Winter had come early to New Jersey.  I stared out my office window and watched the snowflakes fall on the campus grounds.  It was mid-December, not yet officially winter, and we were having our second snow squalor.  It was only 3 o’clock, yet the campus was deserted.  Most of the students had already headed home for the holiday break, and many of my fellow professors had done the same.

There was no real reason for me to be there.  I could easily read my students’ papers from the comfort of my own home, but home was too quiet and lonely, especially at holiday time.  The signs of Christmas made me long for my husband and toddler son who had died in a car accident.  No matter how much time passed, I still ached for them.  The holidays were the worst, and I dreaded each and every one with their reminders of family togetherness.  The only holiday in the past years that had been tolerable had been this past Thanksgiving, only a few weeks ago.  I had some students and friends over for brunch, which had turned out surprisingly well.  Actually, the whole event had been surprising – planned on the spur of the moment and attended, amazingly, by two of the three surviving Beatles.  Who would ever think that an English Professor from a small university in New Jersey would end up being friends with the McCartneys and Harrisons?

The phone rang, pulling me out of my dreaming.  “Jennifer Lyndon’s office.”

“Jennifer, what are you still doing there?  There’s nearly an inch of snow on the ground already.”

I smiled at the sound of his voice.  “How would you know, Bob?  Just because it’s coming down in New York doesn’t mean that it’s snowing here in New Jersey.”

“I’m not in the city, I happen to be at my sister’s house, less than a mile from your office.  Would you like me to come pick you up?”

Bob Anderson was ever the gentleman.  We met just two weekends ago, at a party hosted by his sister, who just happened to be the wife of the University President.  As the gathering was predominantly for employees at the University, I could smell a set up.  But Bob, twice divorced and currently the Vice President of East Coast Sales for a large software corporation, was a nice guy.  We had gone out to dinner once and had plans to see a play in the city this Friday evening.  I enjoyed his company, yet still felt a bit uncomfortable “dating”.

“No, but thank you for the offer.  I just have a few things to finish up and then I was heading home anyway.”

“You’re sure?  It wouldn’t be any problem.”

“I’m sure.  I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Right, I’ll pick you up at six.”

“There’s no need for you to come all the way out here.  I could just meet you in the city.”

“No, no, I’ll pick you up.”

“Are you sure?  It seems silly to have you drive in from the city to get me and then drive back when I could easily hop on the train and meet you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I’ll pick you up at six.  Now, finish up whatever it is you have to do and go home.”

“All right.  I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

“Six sharp.”

“Right.  Good-bye, Bob.”  I hung up the phone before he had a chance to say good-bye.  

***

Bob rang my doorbell at exactly 6 PM.  Though this was only our second “date,” I already knew that he was compulsively punctual. 

“You look lovely, “ he said as I opened the door.

“Thank you.”

“Get your coat, we don’t want to be late.”

“Of course not.”  I got my coat from the hall closet, and Bob, being trained as a gentleman, helped me into it.  He held open the door for me and took my arm as we walked to his Mercedes.  Again, he opened the car door for me, and then shut it once I was seated.

We did not talk much on the ride in, but instead listened to the classical radio station.  Traffic was heavy, but he must have expected that, and we pulled into a parking garage not far from the theatre by 7:30.  As we walked a short block to the theatre, he once again took my arm.  I felt a little uncomfortable, but said nothing.

“I thought,” he said after we were seated in the theatre, “that after the show we might have a late supper.  I know a marvelous place just around the corner.”

“That sounds fine.”

We didn’t speak again for several minutes.  The silence was uncomfortable. 

“So, will you be spending the holiday with your sister and her family?” I asked.  It was the only topic I could think of.

“I’m not certain.  She hasn’t officially asked yet.  I may just fly to the Caymans for a week or so.  I have a place there, you know.”

“I didn’t.  A tropical Christmas sounds nice after the snow we’ve had already.”

“Very.  It’s far enough away that I can ignore the office when I want to, yet still have access if I need it.”

“Do you go there often?”

“As often as I can,” he said.  He eagerly spoke of his apartment and the extolled the virtues of the islands until the theatre darkened and the play began.

The show was a drama with no intermission.  While I found it drawn out and dull, Bob seemed enraptured by it.  I found myself sneaking peeks at my watch and hoping that it would be over soon.  Thankfully, it was only ninety minutes long, but they were long minutes, and I had never been so happy to see a curtain go down and the house lights go up.

“Fascinating, wasn’t it?” he commented as we stood.

“It was very interesting.”  I was reluctant to voice my true opinion when he seemed to have liked it so much.  “So, where is this restaurant?”

“Not far,” he said, once again helping me on with my coat and taking my arm as we walked out of the theatre.  He guided me down the street and into a nondescript little place.  It wasn’t too crowded, despite being a Friday night, and we didn’t have to wait for a table.

We ordered drinks and studied the menus while waiting for them. 

“Jennifer?”

I looked up to see James McCartney standing beside the table.  With him was a student and friend of mine, Linda Kelly.  I had introduced the two the previous month and they had been dating ever since.

“James, I didn’t know you were back.”

“Just here for a few days.”

Bob cleared his throat, and I realized that I hadn’t introduced everyone.  “Oh, how silly of me.  Bob Anderson, this is James McCartney and Linda Kelly.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Bob said, standing to shake both their hands.  I had a distinct feeling that he disapproved of James’ long hair.

“You too, sir,” James said very respectfully.

“Nice to meet you,” Linda said softly

“Why don’t you two join us?” I asked.

“We were just leaving,” James replied.  “But one of the reasons I’m back in town, besides wanting to see Linda again, of course, is that Dad is going to be on Saturday Night Live tomorrow.  Why don’t you come?  Both of you.”

“That sounds wonderful.  I had no idea he was going to be the musical guest.”

“Are you sure you can get tickets at such a late date?” Bob asked skeptically.

“It’s not a problem,” James assured him.

“Well, I’d love it,” I said.  “I’ve never been in an SNL audience.  I’m sure it will be fun.”

“What time would we have to meet you?” Bob asked.

“We could meet just outside the studio around quarter to eleven.”

“That’s two late nights in the city in a row,” Bob observed.

“I’m game,” I said.  “Are you?”

“Sure,” he said, but I still felt there was a bit of reluctance in his voice.

“Great, the two of us will see you there tomorrow night.”  James bent over and gave me a peck on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “Dad’s going to do ‘And I Love Her’ and I’m going to help him out.  It’s a surprise for Linda.”

“Good night,” Bob said, somewhat forcefully.

“Good night,” Linda echoed softly, and I wondered if Bob’s demeanor had put her off.

“So how do you know those two?” Bob asked, once they had left our table and headed for the restaurant door.

“Well, Linda was a student of mine, and James and his family are friends.”

“And his father is an actor or something?”

I bit down on my lip so as not to laugh.  “His father is a musician.”

“Ummm…rock and roll, I suppose.”

I nodded, still trying not to laugh.

“Well, it should be interesting.  Should I pick you up around quarter to ten?”

“You really don’t have to.  I can get into the city by…”

“What kind of man would I be if I had my date taking public transportation?  Now, I was thinking of the pan seared tuna for dinner.  How about you?”

***

With Bob’s punctuality, we were at Rockefeller Plaza by 10:40.  James and Linda were already there, waiting for us.  The four of us went into the studio.  I was fascinated by the whole experience.  The atmosphere was chaotic, but electrifying and I was enraptured from the moment we stepped inside.   I had been a fan of the show since its inception in 1975, although I had not watched the show on a regular basis over the past several years.

While Bob sat somewhat stiffly in his seat, I was quickly caught up in the show.  At the first commercial break, James excused himself, and I turned to Bob.  “Isn’t this wonderful?”

“Wonderful isn’t exactly the word I’d use.  Aren’t we a little mature for this crowd?”

“I suppose we are a little older than their demographic, but it really is fun.”

“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use either.”

I bit my tongue to keep from telling him to loosen up and was happy that the commercial break ended.  Host Alec Baldwin came back on stage and simply said, “Ladies & gentlemen, Paul McCartney.”

The applause was deafening.  There were two stools on the stage, on which Paul and James sat.  Behind them, were three members of the house band to handle percussion.  They began the opening strains to “And I Love Her” and Linda gave a little gasp. I couldn’t help but smile and watch her, as well as Paul and James, as her face turned red.  It was a beautiful acoustic performance and when the song finished, once again the applause was overwhelming as Paul wrapped his arm around his son with a big smile. 

Once again the show went to commercial and Paul and James quickly left the stage.

“I had no idea he was going to do that,” Linda, who was on my right whispered to me.

“Why was he staring at you?” Bob asked.

“It was a very sweet,” I answered Linda before turning to Bob.  “What do you mean?”

“He was staring at you during the song.”

“Both James and Paul were looking this way because the song was for Linda.”

“He wasn’t looking at her.  He was looking at you!”

People were beginning to look our way since Bob had raised his voice. 

“Shhh…don’t be silly”

“I’m not being silly.  And I don’t like…”

“Shh…” I tried again.  “The show is about to start again.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” he whispered back to me.

I was unnerved by his behavior, but tried to shrug it off.  I was enjoying the SNL experience more than I had even expected.  However, I couldn’t help but notice that Bob did not laugh at all during the sketches and he sat there sullenly with his arms crossed when Paul took the stage again to sing “Wonderful Christmastime.”  The whole audience was singing along, but Bob just sat there frowning.  I actually hesitated in joining in with the rest of the crowd singing, but decided if Bob wanted to be in a snit, he could be.  I was not going to let him ruin the experience for me.

The song led into another commercial break with the band still playing and the audience still singing along, at which point Bob turned to me.  “I’d like to leave now.”

“But the show’s not over yet.”

“I’ve had quite enough.”

Paul was still sitting on the stage with the band although the song had ended. I hardly noticed that he began playing the guitar and singing.  “La, la, la, la, la, la, lovely Lin-da. With the lovely flowers in her hair…”

“What has gotten into you, Bob?”  I was exasperated by his attitude.

“La, la, la, la, la, la lovely Jen-ny.  With the lovely flowers in her hai-r.”

“THAT’S IT!”

It seemed like everyone in the theatre turned to stare at us and I wanted to melt down into the floor.

“I’m leaving.  Are you coming with me, Jennifer, or are you not?”

My face was red with embarrassment and anger.  “I’m staying.”

“I’m disappointed, Jennifer.  I really am.  I never expected you to be like this.  And I certainly never thought you would humiliate me in such a way.”

“Humiliate you?  I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me, sir,” A security guard had come up behind him.  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m going.  Good bye, Jennifer.”  He turned on his heel and stormed off.  And I tired to sink down in my seat as the show started again.

“What was that all about?” Linda whispered in my ear.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back.  “I hope we didn’t ruin your evening.  I know James wanted to make it special for you.”

“It was.  He told me that this show was a Christmas present to me.  You don’t suppose he was mad because Paul sang to you.”

“Paul wasn’t singing to me.  He and James were singing to you.”

“Not that.  When Paul just sang that song about lovely Linda.”

“He wrote that about his wife.  James probably asked him to do it for you.”

“But what about the lovely Jenny part?”

“What lovely Jenny part?”  My voice rose a bit and the people in front of us turned around to glare once more.

“He sang Lovely Linda and then the second time around he sang Lovely Jenny.”

“Are you sure?” I asked in the quietest voice I could manage.

“It was during that last break.  Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said as the show came back for the final sketch and closing moments.  In my mind, I knew that Paul was only teasing me, but I could see how it might be misconstrued by Bob.  While I was friends with all of the McCartney family, my friendship with Paul had been a bit volatile.  His singing to me was just his way of saying we’re friends.

The show ended and I wondered how late the trains ran back to New Jersey.   Getting a car service at this hour was bound to be expensive, but it might be my only choice.

“I’m supposed to meet James,” Linda said.  “I have a backstage pass.  You’ll come with me, won’t you?”

“It’s late, Linda.  I really need to head over to Penn Station and try to catch a train home.”

“It’s much too late to catch a train.  We could take you back.”

“I’m really kind of tired and…”

“We won’t be staying long.  I promise.  I just want to meet Alec Baldwin. “

So I let her drag me to the backstage area, where, true to his word, James was anxiously waiting.  She ran over to him and kissed him.  I uncomfortably looked around.  Not knowing anyone in the area, I felt very out of place and wondered if there was any way I could sneak away without being too rude.

“Jennifer!  Good to see you.”  It was Paul McCartney to the rescue.  He gave me a big bear hug. 

“Hi, Paul.”

“So where’s your date?”

“Bob?  He had to leave.”

“That’s too bad.  So what did you think of the show?”

“It was great.  You and James did a great job with ‘And I Love Her.’”

“Thanks.  I think he’s gone a little bit overboard on her, but…”

“You’re going to stay out of it, right?” I chided him.

“Right.”

Perhaps hearing us, Linda broke away from James.  “Oh Mr. McCartney, thank you so much.  It was wonderful.”

Paul beamed at her praise.  “It was all his doing.  You should be thanking him.  Oh, wait, I can see you have been.  James, you’ve got lipstick on you.”

James turned bright red and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, which only spread the lipstick around.  I couldn’t help but giggle, which made James turn an even deeper shade of red and Linda look mortified.  I dug around in my purse and pulled out a crumpled tissue.  Going over to him, I took his face in my hands and carefully wiped any signs of lipstick away.  “Next time,” I advised Linda, “try one of those brands that promises not to rub off anywhere.”

“Or better yet,” Paul chimed in, “none at all.  You don’t need it.  You’re a lovely young lady.”

Now both Linda and James were equally red with embarrassment. 

“So where is Alec Baldwin?” I asked. 

“He was in his dressing room,” Paul said.  “Did you want to meet him?”

“Linda does.  And then she and James are going to give me a ride home.”

“Your date left you stranded?” Paul asked incredulously.

“Unintentionally,” I said in a defensive voice.  Though why I was defending him, I didn’t know.

“Why don’t you two go along to the party and I’ll take Jennifer home.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“Honestly,” Paul said, “I’m really not up for it.  Go on you two.”

Linda and James needed no further encouragement.  Arms around each other they headed off without so much as a good-bye.

“You really don’t have to do this, Paul.”

“Nonsense.  There’s a car just outside.  C’mon.”  He took my hand and led me down a maze of corridors and out into the street, where a car was indeed waiting.  There were a group of diehard fans still gathered outside the building, but Paul quickly opened the car door and motioned for me to get inside.  I did so as quickly as I could and he followed, shutting and locking the door behind him.  “Small change of plans,” he said to the driver.  “We’re heading out to New Jersey first.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. McCartney.”

“Now, where are we heading, Jen?”

“21 Prospect Street in Maplewood.  I can give you directions once we get into New Jersey.”

“No need, ma’am.  I’ll have you there within the hour.”

“Sit back and relax, Jen,” Paul encouraged.

So I did.  Paul was silent and so was I.  I closed my eyes for just a minute.

***

“Jenny.”  A soft voice was calling my name.  I snuggled closer to him.  “Jenny.”  A kiss on the cheek.  I waved him away. 

“Five more minutes,” I moaned.

“Jenny.”  The voice was more forceful this time.  “Jenny, we’re here.”

“Where?”  Reluctantly my eyes started to open.

“Home.  Your home.  Wake up now Jenny.”

My eyes flew open as I suddenly realized that I had been asleep.  And that the body I had been snuggled up against was not my husband’s, but Paul’s!  I sat up quickly, wrenching my neck in the process.   “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that.”

“Not a problem.  I drifted off myself.  And it was kind of nice to have someone to cuddle up with again.”

I rubbed my neck, trying to get the kinks out.  “Well…thank you for the ride.  I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Let me walk you to the door, like a proper gentleman.”  He opened the car door and got out.  Turning, he held his hand out to me to help me out.

I took it and slid out.  He kept a hold of my hand as we walked up to the front door.  I fumbled around in my purse to get my keys.  Finally finding them, I slipped the key in the lock and opened the door.  “Thank you again, Paul.  You were fantastic tonight, and I really do appreciate you getting me home like this.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“Well,” I began feeling awkward.  “Good night…oh, and have a Merry Christmas.”

“You too, Jen.”

I started to head inside, but he caught me by the shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Jen.”  He pulled me close to him and kissed me.

Suddenly I felt like a teenager again, and I didn’t know what to do.  It was as if I had never been kissed before.  I just let myself sink into him, but was too nervous, or afraid to wrap my arms around him.  We stood there, on my front porch, for what seemed like an eternity as my head spun.

“Good night, Jen,” he said softly as we parted.

“Good night, Paul,” I replied, dashing inside and quickly closing the door behind me.

My head was spinning.  Deserted by Bob, kissed by Paul -- the evening had certainly taken an unexpected twist.  It was too much for me to ponder.  I headed upstairs, took a quick shower and two Tylenol PM and climbed into bed.

***

There were only two days left to the term before the official holiday break.  They usually would be quiet with few people on campus.  This year was no exception.  I had thought I might hear from Bob before the holidays, but obviously he was still annoyed with me.  Perhaps it was for the best. 

I was just packing up my things on Tuesday when the phone rang.

“Jennifer, it’s Tess.”  The voice of the Bob’s sister and the wife of the University President was rushed.  “My brother is so angry at you.  And I really have to say that I’m surprised at your actions.”

“Tess, Bob is overreacting.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Paul McCartney?”

“I’m not seeing Paul McCartney,” I protested, although my mind ran back to the front door kiss.  “We’re just friends.”

“Right.  You know I had a hard time believing that he had been at your house for Thanksgiving, but then when Bob told me how he sang to you…”

“He didn’t sing to me.”

“That’s not what Bob told me.”

I sighed.  “Honestly Tess, it’s nothing.  I swear.”

“But Bob…”

“Listen, Tess,” I said, gritting my teeth, “I was just on my way out.  For the last time, there is nothing between Paul McCartney and myself.  And if you’re brother chooses not to believe that, well that’s his right.  Now, I really do have to run.  I hope you have a wonderful holiday.  Bye.”  And I hung up the phone.

***

The holidays were as bad as I expected.  Christmas Eve, Christmas day – they were meant for family – and I had none.  I did have a few invitations from friends, but I turned them down.  The holidays always put me in a black mood.  And perhaps, secretly, I was hoping for a phone call from Paul.  But no call ever came.

Over and over in my mind I replayed the kiss on the front steps.  It didn’t mean anything, I told myself.  Paul was tired.  It was the holiday spirit.  It was just a silly spur of the moment thing.  It didn’t mean anything.  If it meant anything surely he would call.

But he didn’t.

The phone, and the house, remained quiet on December 24^th and 25^th. 

I convinced myself that I was tired and spent as much time sleeping as possible.  Even if I had to have a couple of glasses of wine and a few Tylenol PMs to doze off.  I refused to focus on the holiday.  I kept the television off and only played classical or jazz CDs while poring through a pile of books that I had been meaning to read for months.  The only time I went out was to shovel on the morning of the 26^th.

While I was out was when the phone rang.  I was coming inside and I could hear a woman’s voice leaving a message on my answering machine.  I ran to grab the phone, dripping snow from my boots and coat onto the floor.

“Hello?”  I answered, somewhat out of breath from the mad dash I had made.

“Jennifer?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Olivia Harrison.  I thought I’d missed you.”

“No, I was just outside shoveling.  We’ve had a bit snow here.  I can’t believe it’s only the fifth day of winter and already I’m tired of the season.”

“Well, then I’m glad I caught you.  And maybe I can help you too.”

“Help me?”

“We’re going to be in Hawaii for the New Year.  We’re leaving tomorrow, and I thought you might like to join us for a few days.  To ring in the New Year with some tropical weather instead of the cold.”

The thought of warm beaches was irresistible.  But also irresponsible.  And incredibly costly.

“I can think of nothing better than spending a few days in the sun, but…”

“I haven’t finished.  We usually have a few friends over to celebrate.  This year one of our friends, other than you, happens to be in the New York area.  He’s going to be flying out here on the 29^th.  He uses a private jet and he’d love to have you join him.”

“Please tell me you aren’t talking about Paul McCartney.”

She laughed.  “Sorry.  Not Paul McCartney. Or maybe I shouldn’t be sorry.  The two of you seem to be like oil and vinegar.”

“It really is a wonderful offer, but…”

“Free flight, free room and board, it’s simple.  And George and I would love to see you.”

“And this friend?”

“The flight is scheduled to leave Teterboro airport at noon on the 29^th.  I can say no more.”

“I just don’t know…”

“Please, Jennifer.  George would really like to see you.  And so would I.”

It was incredibly impulsive, but maybe it was time that I acted impulsively.  Sitting around at home doing nothing was just making me miserable.

“I can’t imagine anything better than spending a few days with you, George, and this mysterious friend in a warm climate.  I’m in.”

“Wonderful!  Do you have a pen?  Here are some more details…”

As I jotted down the information, I felt myself lighten up inside.  It was time for a change.  It was time for me.  It was going to be a wonderful New Year.  

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