“Deck the Halls.”
“Frosty the Snowman.”
“Up on the Housetop.”
“Rudolph.”
“Silver Bells.”
“Winter Wonderland.”
“Chestnuts Roasting.”
“Sleigh Ride.”
“The Little Drummer Boy”—this is Ava’s insertion. It would be too religious for Mitzi, but Mitzi isn’t here!
She says to Kelley, “I’ll take one more.” She bows her head and squeezes her eyes shut. Her hands are inadvertently arched over the C chord, which is how “Jingle Bells” starts—although her heart’s greatest desire this Christmas is that tonight will end without her having to play it.
“Jingle Bells,” someone/everyone yells.
Ava plays “Jingle Bells” and even gives it a little extra gusto as she suddenly remembers Claire Frye and her father, Gavin, and Ava’s vow to play the song in Claire’s honor. Besides, she won’t have to play it again for 364 days. Then she segues into “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” signaling the end of the caroling. Her father and Scott are at the piano, arms wrapped around each other.
As soon as the last chord evaporates into the pine-scented air, there is the sound of a spoon chiming against a glass. Ava looks up. This is unusual. Normally now is when people start to file out.
Kevin is standing on top of the Igloo boat cooler. He looks like he has an announcement to make; he is probably trying to take over the reins from their father and thank everyone for coming. This will hasten the exodus even more.
When the room quiets down, Kevin hands the glass and the spoon off to a bystander and says, “Isabelle Beaulieu? Mrs. Claus? Isabelle, where are you?”
Huh? Ava thinks.
Isabelle is now circulating with a tray of hors d’oeuvres, but she turns and gazes up at Kevin.
Kevin pulls a velvet box out of his pocket and says, “Isabelle Beaulieu, will you marry me?”
Kevin and Isabelle—together? As in, lovers? Kevin is proposing?
Then a second thought hits her sideways: Isabelle is pregnant, and THE BABY IS KEVIN’S!
People are shocked, stunned, stupefied! No one more so than Ava. But everyone loves an unexpected proposal, especially at Christmas. The room roars!
Ava sways. Scott materializes at her side. She looks up at him in his Father Christmas hat. She doesn’t know which emotion overwhelms her more—surprise happiness for Kevin and Isabelle, or surprise relief that Scott will not be dating Isabelle. She thinks of Kevin’s reaction when she told him she was setting up Scott and Isabelle—that was why he was so angry.
Together, she and Scott watch as Isabelle—it seems belatedly understanding what is happening—approaches Kevin. She is holding both hands over her mouth, she is trembling and crying—with joy, it seems, unadulterated joy. Watching her, Ava tears up herself. Isabelle and Kevin are in love! She can’t believe it!
She involuntarily compares the expression of Isabelle’s face now—she looks like someone who just won ten million dollars and a dream house in Tahiti—with the expression Norah Vale wore when she was in Kevin’s presence. Which, even on her wedding day, could be most accurately described as somewhere between dour and snarling.
Ava is so happy for Kevin. He deserves this. Even though Ava had hoped to be the one getting engaged tonight, she feels nothing but elation at the turn of events.
Kevin slips the ring on Isabelle’s finger, and the crowd cheers. Scott lets a wolf whistle fly, loud enough to summon every dog in the neighborhood.
Kevin jumps down to kiss Isabelle, and Ava’s father moves for the magnum of champagne. It’s clearly time for the sabering, and now they really have something to celebrate! Kelley pulls his saber out of the umbrella stand, opens the front door, and holds the bottom of the champagne bottle against his belt buckle. In one fluid motion, he slices the top of the bottle off; it flies into the yard. This is a trick he learned one year when he went to Paris with Margaret, supposedly taught to him by the personal sommelier of François Mitterrand. It dazzles every time.
As Kelley pours glasses of the Perrier-Jouët, Ava wonders: Did her father know Kevin and Isabelle were together? Did he know this proposal was in the works? Does he know Isabelle is pregnant?
Scott accepts two flutes of champagne and hands one to Ava. They clink glasses.
“Cheers!” she says. “I can’t believe it.”
“You were trying to set me up with Isabelle,” Scott says, “weren’t you?”
“Oh, hush,” Ava says. “The two of you would have made a cute couple, too.”
“You were jealous,” Scott says. “I saw it on your face.”
“Was not.”
“Yes, you were. When you took the picture of me, Isabelle, and the Holy Terror, you looked angry. Jealous angry.”
Ava barely suppresses a smile. She drinks her champagne. “Shut up.”
“Admit it.”
“I will not admit it,” she says. “But I will give you this.”
“What?”
“You make one hell of a Santa.”