Gem asked about our day, and we gave her some of the better details. Our recounting of the pantomime spurred her to tell us about the time she worked with Monty Python on a holiday special that the BBC had refused to air … which then became a story about the time Maggie Smith, Angela Lansbury, and Gem had broken into a studio in order to record a ribald version of “You’re the Top” for Richard Burton’s birthday.
“You must understand, he wasn’t with Liz at the time,” Gem assured us.
We nodded as if we understood.
“But enough about me,” Gem said. “We left off at the pantomime. Tell me about the rest of your day.”
I wasn’t sure whether Lily would want to talk about Mrs. Basil E.’s surprise visit and the way she turned into a Tearex upon Lily’s resistance to the collegial path. But Lily told the whole story, using phrases like sneak attack and complete disregard for what I want and they just don’t understand. She finished by sharing Mrs. Basil E.’s final words about going down the wrong path.
“Presumably that’s the path away from Barnard?” Gem asked.
“I think it’s safe to assume that,” Lily replied.
“Okay, then,” Gem said, putting down her wineglass before she’d taken another sip. “I have a question for both of you. I’m asking you because, frankly, nobody ever asked it of me when I was your age. And then I made the same mistake and didn’t ask it of my son when the time came, because I was too angry at him and at the world to notice that it needed to be asked. Lily, I know I’m a stranger to you, and Dash, I know that even though I am less than a stranger to you, we also haven’t truly known each other long enough for me to be invested one way or the other in the answer. So, that said, let me ask… . If I were to ask you what you want to do with your life, going forward—what would your heart answer?”
Lily didn’t hesitate. “I want to work with dogs. Not just because I’m good at it. But because I’m good for them. I love doing it, and I also know it helps in some way.”
“Excellent,” Gem said. “Now, Dash—how about you?”
My answer was I don’t know. But I wasn’t satisfied by that answer. I felt there was another answer underneath. The answer, in Gem’s words, that my heart would give.
“I want to work with books,” I said. “That’s what I want to do. Like Lily wants to work with dogs. I want to work with books. My future is books.”
It felt so presumptuous to say it out loud.
But it also felt right.
Lily and Gem must have sensed this. They were both nodding.
“Good,” Gem said. “Now we know.”
Yes. Now we knew.
Gem surprised me by slapping the table—an American gesture amidst the British settings.
“Of course!” she said. Then she stood up. “I’ll be back in a second. I need to make a phone call.”
“So,” Lily said, reaching across the table for my hand. “Books.”
I took her hand. “Yes, books. And dogs.”
She smiled at me. “Yes, dogs.”
“You’ll apply to that program at FIT.”
“Let ’em try to stop me.”
“They’re just barking at the moon.”
It felt like only a minute later that Gem was back at the table, looking very satisfied.
“Eleven o’clock tomorrow,” she told me, sitting.
“What about it?” I asked.
“You’ll be interviewing with St. John Blakemore.”
“WHAT?!” I inquired. St. John Blakemore was perhaps the most famous literary editor in New York City.
“Blakey’s here in town for the holidays, visiting his parents. I rang up and he said he’ll see you at eleven.”
Blakey?!
“Oh, I took care of him for a spot in the eighties when his parents had to go underground for a bit because of the whole Rushdie thing. I’ve written a few things for him over the years.”
“You have?”
“Oh, yes. Just some ghostwriting on a few memoirs. We who are celebrity-adjacent remember so much more than the celebrities themselves!”
“This is insane! I can’t just have an interview with St. John Blakemore tomorrow.”
“An interview for what?” Lily asked.
“Yeah,” I said, turning to Gem. “An interview for what?”
“Whatever you make of it,” she answered. “I’m sure you’ll make quite an impression.”
I felt like I was about to hyperventilate.
“Okay,” I said. “This is happening.”
“Meanwhile,” Gem continued, “I’m afraid I don’t know anyone commensurate in the canine world.”
“That’s all right,” Lily said. “I think I have it figured out.”
The rest of the meal consisted of me explaining to Lily who St. John Blakemore was, and of Gem skirting around all the nondisclosure agreements she’d signed to hint at whose memoirs she’d written.
Then came the Christmas cake, which was entirely delectable.
“Where have you been all my life?” I asked it.
“I’d love to know the same thing,” Gem said.
“You said this was my great-great-grandmother’s recipe. What was her name? What was she like?”
Gem smiled. “Her name was Anna, and when I was a kid, I called her Granna, because I was always throwing Grandma and Anna together. She loved to bake, but she didn’t particularly love to eat. The joy came from seeing other people eat and enjoy whatever she’d made. We always told her she could open a bakery, but she didn’t like the idea of charging people. She’d much rather show up at friends’ doorways with some cookies she’d made, or a cake just out of the oven.”
“Did my father know her?”
“A little. I’m not sure he’d remember. But she made him cookies in the shape of his favorite truck.”
This made me laugh. “My father had a favorite truck?”
“Oh, yes!” Gem said. “Its name was Paul—Paul was the man at the toy store. Such a nice man! Anyway, Paul—the truck, not the man—is about the size of my hand. Your father was always losing him. I probably spent half his childhood looking between couch cushions or under the bed for where Paul had gone. Your father loved Paul so much. Even when he got older, he kept Paul by the side of his bed. If I ever moved it to a shelf, he’d always put Paul back there. Into high school, this was.”
I found it very hard to imagine my father cherishing a toy truck like this.
“And where’s Paul now?” I asked.
“Oh,” Gem said. “I still have him. Up in my room. I guess he watches over me now.”
Tears came into her eyes then, and her happiness wavered.
“Oh, Gem,” I said, this time reaching over for her hand.
“It’s all right,” she said. “If I had to do it all over again, I’d definitely do it better. But we all say that, don’t we? Or at least we should.”
I looked over to Lily, who was also looking sad now.
“I miss my family,” she said. “Being here with you two is great. But it also makes me miss my family. I wish there was a way to have Christmas in both places.”