CHAPTER FIVE
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"I demand PROOF that Santa Claus never had freckles!"
Boris and Annabelle were playing a Christmas trivia game. That question had cost Annabelle the game, and she was laughingly protesting! But it felt good to be talking – and laughing – after their rather serious discussion earlier in the afternoon.
"Ha! Look around you, Annabelle! Do you see freckles upon the faces of ANY of the Santa figurines in this room?!"
"Oh, TBHTTTTT! That doesn't mean anything! The REAL Santa Claus could have freckles?!"
"The real Santa Claus?!"
"Yes, Boris, the REAL Santa Claus!"
They were about to start another game, when the library door opened, and in walked Olga.
Even in her advanced years, she was still a beautiful woman – tall and slender, with silver white hair. She walked with a cane, but her carriage was still regal. It was easy to see where Boris got his patrician good looks.
Ever the gentleman, Boris stood and kissed his grandmother on both cheeks. "Would you care for a glass of sherry, Oma?"
"Ja, danke!" Olga sat down on the couch beside Annabelle. Boris brought her sherry, and sat down on the other couch.
"So. . .how was your visit with your friend?"
"It was quite lovely, Annabelle; thank you for asking!" Olga had spent the afternoon with her longtime friend, Hedy. Hedy had come to the Hamptons as a German war bride in 1946, and she and Olga had been friends ever since. "Hedy is a good friend, but she has been very lonely of late! She seldom sees her family; they have very little time for her!" Olga took a sip of sherry, and looked pointedly at Annabelle. "You would like my friend Hedy, Annabelle; she has lived an interesting life! I know you have a penchant for the World War II era; Hedy could tell you many fascinating stories!"
"Well, perhaps I could interview her sometime?"
"Sehr gut! Hedy has invited me for tea next Wednesday; you will accompany me!"
"Ah. . .I. . .?!" Annabelle started to object, then chuckled. "Well played, Olga! I would love to have tea with you and Hedy!"
"Danke schön, Annabelle!" She took another sip of her sherry. "Now, tell me, Annabelle, have you made your New Year's resolutions?"
Annabelle shook her head, rather vigorously. "Oh, no; I don't make resolutions anymore!"
"Why ever not, child?! Making resolutions, having goals. . .it is such a positive way to begin the new year!"
"It is! But I have no follow-through!"
"Follow. . .through? I am not sure I understand?!"
"I start things; I don't finish them! I used to make New Year's resolutions. I would compile an impressive list of things I wanted to accomplish – clean out my closets, read a book every week, start doing yoga, learn to speak Italian, take cooking lessons. . .stop communicating with hand gestures when somebody cuts me off in traffic?! And I would start some of them. . .but I would never finish any of them! I got tired of feeling like a bloody failure. . .so. . .I just stopped making the bloody resolutions!"
"Ah. . .I see! No. . .follow-through!"
"Exactly!"
"Well, then, Annabelle. . .that must be your resolution!"
"I. . .wait. . .what now?!"
A hint of a smile appeared. "Child, your New Year's resolution must be. . .to follow through! If you start something, make every attempt to finish it, no matter how large or how small the task!"
"Hmpf?! Well. . .?!" Annabelle looked – and sounded – skeptical. "I never thought about it quite like that before?!"
"Sehr gut! Now, Boris, what about you? Have you made any New Year's resolutions?"
"Hmpf?!" Boris took a sip of Scotch before answering his grandmother. "Well. . .it was recently pointed out to me that, on occasion, I, perhaps, am not as open-minded as I could be?!" Boris took another sip of Scotch. "I suppose that I could address that particular character flaw in the new year!"
Annabelle lifted her mug of eggnog in mock salute. "Well done, my love!"
Another surly "Hmpf!" was his only reply, so Annabelle turned her attention to Olga. "So, Olga. . .what about you?! Have you made any New Year's resolutions?"
"Indeed, I have!" Olga sipped her sherry, a Mona Lisa smile on her face.
"Annabelle does not like to be kept in suspense, Olga! Bitte, tell her your resolution, before she succumbs to a fit of apoplexy?!"
"I am going to write a book!"
Annabelle clapped and whooped, "Jolly good!", while Boris choked on his Scotch!
"You are going to write a book?! Have you just. . .I. . .have you. . .?!" Trying to keep his temper in check, Boris set his crystal tumbler of Scotch down on the glass-topped table with a sharp clink, then took a deep breath. "So. . .you are going to write a book. And WHAT, pray tell, will be the subject of this. . .tome?!"
"Oh. . .this house. . .Shadow Pond! I knew, last night, at the masquerade ball. Boris, this house has such a storied history! There have been other masquerade balls, and dinner parties, teas, picnics, and birthday parties – each with their own story! I think I would like to share those stories?!" Olga turned from Boris to Annabelle. "Why, I remember one birthday party – Boris was, I believe, five? The mayor attended; he brought Boris a new car for one of his train sets. And there were circus animals; Boris rode on an elephant! Meine kleine Prinz! 'Page Six' published pictures!" Olga leaned towards Annabelle and patted her hand. "Perhaps. . .you and Boris could assist me?!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Annabelle saw Boris lean forward, ready to attack, and she decided to cut him off before he could launch into an angry tirade. "You know, Boris, a book about Shadow Pond, written by someone who actually lived at Shadow Pond, could be quite interesting! Shadow Pond is still the second-largest private home ever built in the United States; it has historical value. You've told me time and again you have hundreds of photographs archived. I think, between the photos, and Olga's stories, we could create a magnificent coffee table book! It might be fun!"
Boris opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. It was two against one. . .and Olga and Annabelle were both formidable opponents! Shaking his head, he threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Well! You two ladies seem quite determined to move forward with this. . .project, ja?!
"Ja, absolut!" Olga nodded emphatically. She was not about to let Boris stop her!
"Annabelle?" Boris shifted his gaze to her; she seemed equally determined!
"Boris, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think Olga's idea is intriguing! I certainly think that it merits further discussion! What harm can it do?!"
Boris sighed deeply. "I see, as you have so often told me, Annabelle, that any resistance on my part is futile!" He could see her trying to hide her smile. "So, we shall discuss this. . .project – but today is really not the day for that discussion!"
Annabelle looked over at Olga. When she nodded, Annabelle turned back to face Boris. "Fair enough, Boris!"
"Boris. . .you will keep an open mind, ja?!"
Boris raised his glass in a mock salute to his grandmother. "Ja, ja. . .I will keep an open mind! That is, after all, my New Year's resolution!"
Smiling, Olga raised her glass in turn, and Annabelle, quite pleased with herself, applauded. Suddenly, Annabelle's stomach growled, quite loudly! Annabelle could feel herself starting to blush. "Well. . .THAT was awkward!" Annabelle looked from Boris, to Olga, and then back to Boris; they were both struggling to contain their laughter. "I'm sorry – but I'm starving!"
Boris opened his mouth to comment, then, reconsidering, closed his mouth without speaking.
"What time are we eating?"
"Dinner will be served at 6:30, Prinzessin. So, I am sorry, but you must starve for a little while longer!"
"Hmph?! And if I starve to death, Boris, it will be on your head! And THAT would certainly be an inauspicious start to the new year!" Annabelle could see that she was getting no sympathy from Boris. "Well. . .dinner certainly smells delicious!"
Olga leaned toward Annabelle and patted her hand. "Pork and sauerkraut! A traditional German New Year's dinner." Olga turned to look at Boris. "So! We must distract Annabelle! What shall we do until dinner is served?!"
Boris shrugged, and shook his head, but he had no suggestions.
Olga glanced at the game pieces, still scattered on the glass coffee table. "Perhaps. . .we could play a game?!"
Surprised, Annabelle looked at Olga. "Do you like to play games, Olga?"
Olga nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, ja, I do!" She smiled at Boris, her expression softening. "When he was a little boy, Boris would beg me to play Monopoly with him; we would sit right here, in this library, and play for hours on end! Do you remember, Boris?"
"Ja, I do!"
Olga gave Annabelle a conspiratorial glance. "When he was very young, Boris liked to play for peanut butter cookies."
Annabelle could barely contain her laughter. "Well, that's good to know! I'll remember that, the next time we play Trivial Pursuit!"
"Hmpf!" That was the only answer that Annabelle was going to get.
"So! How do we play this game?" Olga gestured toward the game pieces.
"Oh, it's easy, Olga! You answer questions about Christmas; you get a letter for every correct answer. The first person to spell out 'Christmas' is the winner."
"Well, that certainly sounds simple enough!" Olga gave Boris a speculative glance, then shifted her attention to Annabelle. "Perhaps. . .we could play the men against the women?"
Before Annabelle could come to Olga's defense, Boris pounced. "Just a moment, bitte! Perhaps you have not noticed; there are two of you, and only one of me!"
Annabelle could barely contain herself. "Boris – are you afraid that the two of us will beat you?!"
Boris looked offended. "Do not be ridiculous, Prinzessin! I am afraid of no such thing! I just. . . ."
"Yes?" Annabelle knew she was enjoying herself a little too much.
"I. . .you. . . ."
"Fish or cut bait, Boris! Yes or no. . .you against Olga and me?!"
"Fine!" Boris threw his hands in the air, knowing he had no other option but to surrender. "Olga, roll the dice!"
Olga reached for the dice, and Annabelle raised her mug in the air. "Ladies and gentlemen. . .welcome to the Thunderdome!"
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So. . .Where do I go next?!
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