“Thank you,” Katherine says, tears pricking her eyes.
When they are settled, Mary Wa puts on her reading spectacles and opens her Bible.
“‘At one time,’” she begins, in Mandarin, “‘we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived, and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another.’”
“‘But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared.’” Ken Fan continues, “‘he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.’”
“‘He saved us,’” reads Lynn’s mother, “‘through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life.’”
Katherine wipes her eyes. Returning to the door, she greets the Chens and their son, Corey, the doctor who helped care for Winnie the night before; he’s brought along a plus-one, a young man from Taipei. Next to arrive are the latest newcomers, an architect with his American wife, who smiles at Katherine over the heads of their brown-haired children. Fang and Alice arrive, dressed up as Christmas elves, Alice in a loose-fitting green velvet thrift-store tunic, and Fang in a red-and-green-striped hat.
James darts over to stand near Alice for a moment, then rushes off to fetch her a Sprite with an orange slice and a maraschino cherry.
“Thanks, James,” says Alice. Together, they duck into the hall. Near the office, she kisses him.
“Alice,” James begins, his heart knocking against his apron, “tonight, after the party, do you want to—”
“Ho, ho, ho! Merrrrrrrry Christmas!”
Leo Chao tromps in through the back door, crowned in the Santa Claus hat he has worn every year for as long as everyone can remember. Removing his coat, he’s resplendent in an eye-watering lime-green and scarlet plaid Christmas sweater, decorated with small, obnoxiously jingling bells. Following him are his winter poker buddies, three men in Carhartt jackets smelling of stale sweat and cold. Seeing James with Alice, Leo slaps James, hard, on the back. “Go get it, son!” Then he heads to the bar, where he introduces his buddies to Jerry Stern, and to Jerry’s plus-one, Maud Marcus, a woman running for town council. The poker friends can’t stay for dinner because they have Christmas Eve at home, but they take stools at the bar, laconic and content.
Back in the dining room, Katherine checks her phone. “It’s Ming again,” she tells Mary. Ming has been texting her all afternoon. The blizzard joined to a nor’easter on the previous night, creating a pile-up of flight delays. She’s told everyone the story of Ming’s texts over the last twenty-four hours: how long he sat on the plane, how many times the pilot changed the length of the delay. The number of times the plane circled before diverting to another city. After landing in Hartford, Ming rented a car, and all day he’s been driving back to Wisconsin, driving through the snow. He’s changed his mind; he wants to be in Haven, he wants to see their mother. He wants to attend the party. Mary tells Katherine that the party is going to last late into the night, and Ming might still make it, but they both know he won’t.
Dagou, in a bright red apron, emerges from the kitchen and urges the guests to be seated. He checks each section of the room: the pitcher of water for the readers, who have moved on from Titus to Matthew; the supply of whiskey for the farmers at the bar; and, especially, the door. He’s glaring at the door when it opens to reveal Brenda with a tall, good-looking, dark-haired man. Brenda makes contact with Dagou’s glare. Then she introduces everyone to Eric Braun.
There’s a lull in all conversations, even the reading, as everyone inspects Eric. With his square jaw and penetrating brown eyes, the man is unmistakably a rival to Dagou. Dagou turns and stalks back into the kitchen.
For an hour, there’s nothing to eat but shrimp chips with soda, beer, wine, and liquor of every type procurable in Haven. This is Dagou’s social strategy: to get everybody drunk; and although Leo, Lynn’s father, and the poker friends are the only true drinkers among them, the sheer amount and variety of alcohol inspires everyone to get tipsier than usual. Around six-thirty, the farmers, somewhat reluctantly, return home to their own family celebrations. Leo tends bar. In the kitchen, O-Lan frenetically rolls out pancakes for the duck, and Dagou cooks them in two pans. James sneaks out, searching for Alice. Near the tree, Katherine is encouraging the new half-Asian children, who have been silently watching, to join in with the other children. At last, they put down their Sprites and enter the ruckus. It’s a moment before James spots Alice. She’s sitting with her brother and Lynn and with Brenda and her guest, near the corner. James waves at her, making his way around the guests toward her table. Pink spots come into her cheeks.
As James reaches the table, Alice is asking Lynn how her journalism class is going.
“Horrible.” Lynn shakes her head. She explains she’s not lively or assertive enough to reach out to other human beings. “I wake up filled with dread,” she says, “whenever I’m supposed to conduct an interview, make a deadline, or turn in an article. My parents were right. I’ll never make it as a journalist.”
Fang points at her with a shrimp chip. “It’s impossible to write about the truth from within an institution. You say you can’t do journalism, but in reality you can’t figure out how to get an A.”
“But I have to get an A,” Lynn says. “Getting an A is the first and only step. I’m a terrible grade-grubber.”
“Ice!” Leo yells, signaling to James from the bar. “More ice!”
James leaves Fang, Lynn, and Alice. He makes his way down to the basement, the party tumult dimming, until he reaches the freezer room and there’s only a faint sound of cheering from above.
Entering the freezer, he reaches for the string to the single bulb, and the room jumps brightly into place around him. It’s an ancient unit, and one James himself rarely enters. He hasn’t been inside for almost a year. There are brick walls, and a crumbling brick layer along one side that’s only partially repaired and repainted; there are old metal racks where his father stores the meat, wrapped in variously shaped packages, and miscellaneous frozen foods he doesn’t recognize. There’s the extra ice bin in the corner, and a veritable army of vodka bottles. James shivers, reminded of Dagou’s broadcast. He leaves the door open, and, as he has been taught, he checks for the exit key before going farther into the room. There it is, on its shelf. It’s a large brass key with a square head. He hurries to the bin and seizes two bags of ice, hauls them upstairs to the bar, where Leo welcomes them with a nod.