says. “I quit my job for her, I left New York for her, I moved to Nantucket for her. I bought this inn—this inn specifically, because she had stayed here—and I restored it to her exact specifications, George, which, by the way, nearly bankrupted me.”
George nods sympathetically, as if he is well acquainted with seeing his personal fortune slowly go down the drain. Kelley realizes he doesn’t know what George does for a living. Is that
possible
after so many years? But the only occupation Kelley can come up with for George is professional Santa Claus. Surely that’s not all he does?
“What’s your line of work, George?” Kelley asks. “If you’ve told me before, I’ve forgotten.”
“I’m a milliner,” George says. “I make hats. Fine hats, for women. I have a shop in Lenox, and a website, which has tripled my business. Two years ago, Oprah picked my straw boater as one of her Favorite Things, and even now, demand far exceeds supply. My problem, quite honestly, is that I’d like to work less rather than more, but I don’t see that happening for quite a while.”
“You’re a
milliner,
” Kelley says. He finds this funny and quaint. He would have predicted that George was a salesman for a drug company or a liquor distributor.
“I learned from my father, who learned from his father,” George says. “But the skill set dies with me, since I never had children.”
Now that George is with Mitzi, he will have some kind of relationship with Bart as well. Kelley tries to imagine Bart learning the skill set of a milliner, and the mere thought puts a smile on Kelley’s face for the first time since he opened the door to room 10 the day before.
“I’ve never known Mitzi to wear hats,” Kelley says.
“She hates hats,” George says.
They sit with that statement in silence. Kelley takes a drink from the flask. George dabs his bloodied handkerchief at his swollen lip. Just outside the door, Kelley can hear the strains of “Angels We Have Heard on High.” Ava must have altered the inn’s playlist since Mitzi’s departure. Mitzi prefers nonreligious carols; she is a big fan of “Silver Bells” and Andy Williams singing “Sleigh Ride.” But Ava thinks religious carols have more musical integrity. Now that Mitzi is gone, she can have her way.
Gloooooooooooooria!
“Thank you for seeing me,” George says. “I feel better.”
“I don’t,” Kelley says. This is a lie. He does feel better, but he isn’t quite ready for the conversation to be over. “Do you think Mitzi leaving me has anything to do with Bart?”
“Of course,” George says. “Her son has flown from the nest. It calls all kinds of other things into question, such as, how much does she like the nest? And, what is she doing in the nest? And, you know, she didn’t want him to go. She saw in her crystals that harm would come to him. Surely she told you that?”
“She told me that,” Kelley says. “Surely
you
don’t believe in…
crystals?
”
“No,” George says. “Not really.”
Kelley takes “not really” to mean “not at all.” He says, “You weren’t born on February twenty-ninth, too, were you?”
“June first,” George says. He clears his throat. “The pointis, Kelley, that
Mitzi
believes in the crystals. She felt like you made Bart go to war anyway.”
“Bart wanted to go,” Kelley says.
“Mitzi feels like you forced the issue.”
“Untrue,” Kelley says. On this, he will stand firm. He did have a come-to-Jesus with Bart after his last run-in with the Nantucket Police. Kelley told his son that he had to do something, go somewhere, try to make something of his life. He could go to Colorado and ski, he could work his way through Europe bartending, he could go to Cape Cod Community College. But he could not stay on Nantucket and sponge off Kelley and Mitzi and continue to get in trouble with the law and desecrate the family name. Bart came up with the Marines himself.
George shrugs like it’s
George nods sympathetically, as if he is well acquainted with seeing his personal fortune slowly go down the drain. Kelley realizes he doesn’t know what George does for a living. Is that
possible
after so many years? But the only occupation Kelley can come up with for George is professional Santa Claus. Surely that’s not all he does?
“What’s your line of work, George?” Kelley asks. “If you’ve told me before, I’ve forgotten.”
“I’m a milliner,” George says. “I make hats. Fine hats, for women. I have a shop in Lenox, and a website, which has tripled my business. Two years ago, Oprah picked my straw boater as one of her Favorite Things, and even now, demand far exceeds supply. My problem, quite honestly, is that I’d like to work less rather than more, but I don’t see that happening for quite a while.”
“You’re a
milliner,
” Kelley says. He finds this funny and quaint. He would have predicted that George was a salesman for a drug company or a liquor distributor.
“I learned from my father, who learned from his father,” George says. “But the skill set dies with me, since I never had children.”
Now that George is with Mitzi, he will have some kind of relationship with Bart as well. Kelley tries to imagine Bart learning the skill set of a milliner, and the mere thought puts a smile on Kelley’s face for the first time since he opened the door to room 10 the day before.
“I’ve never known Mitzi to wear hats,” Kelley says.
“She hates hats,” George says.
They sit with that statement in silence. Kelley takes a drink from the flask. George dabs his bloodied handkerchief at his swollen lip. Just outside the door, Kelley can hear the strains of “Angels We Have Heard on High.” Ava must have altered the inn’s playlist since Mitzi’s departure. Mitzi prefers nonreligious carols; she is a big fan of “Silver Bells” and Andy Williams singing “Sleigh Ride.” But Ava thinks religious carols have more musical integrity. Now that Mitzi is gone, she can have her way.
Gloooooooooooooria!
“Thank you for seeing me,” George says. “I feel better.”
“I don’t,” Kelley says. This is a lie. He does feel better, but he isn’t quite ready for the conversation to be over. “Do you think Mitzi leaving me has anything to do with Bart?”
“Of course,” George says. “Her son has flown from the nest. It calls all kinds of other things into question, such as, how much does she like the nest? And, what is she doing in the nest? And, you know, she didn’t want him to go. She saw in her crystals that harm would come to him. Surely she told you that?”
“She told me that,” Kelley says. “Surely
you
don’t believe in…
crystals?
”
“No,” George says. “Not really.”
Kelley takes “not really” to mean “not at all.” He says, “You weren’t born on February twenty-ninth, too, were you?”
“June first,” George says. He clears his throat. “The pointis, Kelley, that
Mitzi
believes in the crystals. She felt like you made Bart go to war anyway.”
“Bart wanted to go,” Kelley says.
“Mitzi feels like you forced the issue.”
“Untrue,” Kelley says. On this, he will stand firm. He did have a come-to-Jesus with Bart after his last run-in with the Nantucket Police. Kelley told his son that he had to do something, go somewhere, try to make something of his life. He could go to Colorado and ski, he could work his way through Europe bartending, he could go to Cape Cod Community College. But he could not stay on Nantucket and sponge off Kelley and Mitzi and continue to get in trouble with the law and desecrate the family name. Bart came up with the Marines himself.
George shrugs like it’s
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