“There are going to be lots of young widows with children after the war. That will change things. And the baby will be legitimate, they were married.” For five months. An illegitimate child would have been much harder for a new man to accept, or even impossible in their social world.
“I suppose so,” Gwyneth said, looking out the window with a sad expression, thinking about Josiah. “How’s your book?”
“Slow.” Sybil smiled.
But, much more exciting than her book, Blake’s business was going extremely well. They had a new influx of money from a group of venture capitalists, and they were broadening their goals, since the model was working well. It was liable to be a huge hit, with enormous profits for them all.
Blake discussed it with Bert again that night, who warned him about the risks. “Don’t be too greedy,” he said seriously. “Don’t stretch farther than you should.”
“It’s hard to resist,” Blake said sincerely, but he knew Bert was right. They talked about it for a while, and Bert expressed his opinion as best he could, based on his understanding of their plans, which he said were foreign to him. But it always surprised Blake that many of the principles and the dangers were the same, no matter the century.
—
The two families spent Thanksgiving together, and Angus came down the grand staircase before dinner, playing the bagpipes, with Rupert following him, howling. It was hard to decide which sound was worse. The entire group sat waiting for him, and he walked around the table three times, with ear-shattering results. Violet, Augusta’s pug, jumped into her lap and buried her head in Augusta’s arms to avoid the noise. It was a blessed relief when he stopped.
“Wonderful, Angus, thank you,” Augusta praised her brother, and Phillips walked in with an enormous turkey on a silver platter. There was stuffing, sweet and mashed potatoes, half a dozen different vegetables, popovers, cranberry jelly, and all the trimmings, and excellent wine from Bert’s cellar.
It was the Gregorys’ first Thanksgiving with the Butterfields. They were going to spend Christmas together too, and then the Gregorys were planning to go to Aspen between Christmas and New Year’s. They had rented a house there. And Andrew was coming home for three weeks. They were all looking forward to it. Angus had sent him a list of his favorite pubs around the campus, with no understanding that they might not still be there seventy years later in his own time, not to mention a century later for Andy.
The food was delicious and everyone was in good spirits, despite the heavy losses they had suffered that year. Bert led them in prayer before they began eating, and they still found things to be grateful for, especially their close friendship. Bettina was beginning to look a little healthier as her pregnancy came to an end. She had five weeks left. Gwyneth was frantically knitting little sweaters and caps, while Augusta embroidered tiny nightgowns with white rosebuds on them that would work for either sex. They would put the baby in dresses for the first few months whether she had a girl or a boy.
Caroline and Lucy were excited about the baby, and so was Sybil. Magnus and Charlie showed no interest in it at all.
“I suppose it will keep us all up yowling at night,” Angus commented. “I’ll play the bagpipes for it to calm down,” he promised.
“Please don’t,” Augusta said firmly, as they all winced at the thought. Bert still hadn’t made peace with the idea of his daughter having the grandchild of an immigrant fish-restaurant owner who wanted nothing to do with his daughter, for fear it would cost them something. And they had never gotten over the slight of the Butterfields thinking them unsuitable, and were taking it out on Bettina as revenge, and punishing her. Bert wondered if they’d feel differently if she had a boy, and he suspected that would be the case. It made him think of Josiah, and he wished they had a child of his now, but there had been none. It made them regret he hadn’t married, although he was young.
Their Thanksgiving meal was a long one, with warm feelings of friendship among them, and at the end of the evening, they all hugged one another, and Augusta even embraced Sybil, although most of the time she ignored her or complained about what she wore, which was never right according to Augusta. She always said that Caroline looked like a dancer on a music box with the outfits she had on at dinner.
Bettina could hardly move when she got up from the meal. Her belly was huge now, in a red velvet dress Gwyneth had had made for her, although she wore black most of the time, suited to her being a widow. Gwyneth had worn black for Josiah since he died. She had done the same for Magnus for a year when he’d died twelve years before.
They said good night to each other, heavily sated by the meal and good wine. Bert and Blake clapped each other on the back, and Sybil and Gwyneth hugged, and then they quietly left the room and vanished, as the Gregorys wandered up the stairs, groaning about how full they were.
“I feel like Bettina,” Sybil said, laughing, and Blake said nostalgically that he wished it were them having a baby, and she looked surprised. He had always wanted a fourth child, although he hadn’t said it for a while. But Sybil felt that three was enough.
“One more would be nice,” he said wistfully. “A little girl.” But at nearly forty, she didn’t want to do it again. “It would keep us young.”
“Speak for yourself,” she said, as they walked into their bedroom, after a really wonderful evening with their friends.
They lay in bed a little while later, talking about nothing in particular, and feeling close to each other. And then he mentioned Bettina again.
“I feel sorry for her, having that baby alone. It won’t be easy.”
“I don’t think she’s happy about it,” Sybil said thoughtfully. “I think she realizes she made a mistake and acted in haste to defy her parents, and she regrets it. But it’s too late now. Maybe the baby will cheer her up.”
“Her father thinks no one will want her now, with a child,” Blake said, thinking about it.
“Gwyneth says the same thing, but we know that’s not true. And there will be lots of young widows with children after the war. This war will change things for everyone. It will even make it all right for women to work, if the breadwinners are gone.”
“You’re beginning to sound like them,” he said, and she laughed.
They fell asleep and woke up late the next morning, and had a relaxing weekend with their children. The Butterfields did the same. It was a perfect Thanksgiving for them all.
—