Christmas day, 1940
━━━I AWOKE IN THE BEDROOM OF
my childhood home. Seabrook, New York. That's where I grew up. The seafront of Long Island; the very center of my heart.
I sat up in bed, stretching my arms up as I gazed out of the big Palladian window by my bedside. It was no longer snowing, but the morning was white and brisk. With snow-covered tree tops and red poinsettias blooming in the garden, it was undeniably Christmas morning.
My silk sheets kept me warm from the terrific cold outside, and my pink nightie was soft and flowing. I swept my blonde curls from my face and tucked them behind my ear. I smiled to myself, turning to see a vase of white Vandella roses and the framed photo of me in a tutu on my bedside table. I was a ballerina until I moved to Manhattan at nineteen, and I've missed it ever since.
I switched the radio on, and 'Little White Lies' by Ella Fitzgerald began to play.
I heard a knock at my door, and before I could answer the door was pushed forward and I was greeted by a warm grin.
"Good morning, Miss Swanson. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Constance." I smiled sleepily.
Constance would always wake me up on weekdays when I was only a little girl. I was reminded of the Christmases before as George, our butler, rolled in carts of decadent pastries and cakes. I rolled out of bed and greeted them both with a warm embrace.
"Your mother and father are awake," Constance started. "I hear there's a surprise for you."
I smiled at her with gratuity as I practically spun out the door.
The golden-lit tree in the grand foyer stood taller than the vast staircases surrounding it. I sped down the stairs, my silk nightie flowing behind me. I felt like a little kid, all excited on Christmas morning. It felt like home.
My mother appeared in the foyer, her blue eyes sparkling under the light of the chandelier.
"Merry Christmas, Darling." She beamed, standing at the bottom of the staircase.
My mother was truly my dearest friend. Always has been, always will be. We'd go shopping down Fifth Avenue together often, never deciding on a dress or a hat without hearing the other person's input first. She was born in Cape Cod; brought up to be a beautiful ballerina, just like me. She moved to New York and attended Sarah Lawrence. She'd met my father in the city. "It was love at first sight," She'd said.
"Merry Christmas, Mother." I embraced her.
"There she is," My father beamed, standing beneath the archway that led to the dining room. "The princess is finally awake."
"Merry Christmas, Daddy." I made my way to him and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Daddy always said I had the voice of an angel. I sang like his mother once did before she had children. He believed that I was destined to be a star. Daddy was born in Charleston, South Carolina. The Swansons have been wealthy for generations upon generations. He lived there until he moved to New York, becoming the Chief Executive Officer of his grandfather's business. He had always encouraged me to be great. From when I was a little ballerina to a singing socialite, in his eyes, I was the epitome of success.
"Come on now, there's a surprise waiting for you." Daddy smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Daddy, I know! Santa came! Doesn't he always--" I stopped in my tracks.
"Porter!" I almost squealed, running over to him.
"Hiya, Rosie." He grinned wholeheartedly.
Porter, my older brother. He's called me 'Rosie' since we were little kids. He's quite overprotective, I must say, but it's always been that way. He's five years older than me, so he's been bossing me around since we were little kids. Porter and I were put on a pedestal from an early age, and we were strongly encouraged to be perfect, but it seems as though the whole world already believes that we are.
I hugged him from behind his chair, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. I took the seat next to him.
"How's the city been treating you, kid?"
"Oh, alright..." I crossed my ankles, trying to hide my smile. "I've got a small little gig tonight."
"Oh yeah? Where at?" He reached forward to place his drink on the table.
I looked up at him. "The Radio City Music Hall."
His eyes widened with eagerness. "Are you kidding?! That's amazing!" He lifted me from my seat and spun me around.
"It's her fifth one this month," My father added.
"Mother? Father? You knew about this?" He said with a wide grin. He put me down.
"I wanted to tell you; I thought you might've been too busy."
"Never," He looked down at me. "Well, I guess you must be nervous." He exhaled.
"Never." I stuck my tongue out at him.
He merely rolled his eyes, tussling my hair as he left the dining room.
"Come on, now. It's time for presents." Mother called.
I practically twirled my way to the parlor where gifts adorned in red and gold crowded around the glowing Christmas tree. I propped myself on the floor next to my big brother, the both of us smiling giddily like children. My mother, hand over heart, sighed with a smile at the sight of us as Daddy merely chuckled as he sat back in his chair.
"Molly, Dear, open this one first." Mother said, handing me a small velvet box.
I took it from her gladly, snapping it open. Inside lay a lovely golden bracelet, my beloved childhood nickname engraved on the pendant.
I placed my hand over my heart, my mouth hung open in awe. "Oh, Mother, it's beautiful."
"I'm glad you like it, Rosie." She pressed a kiss into my hairline.
꧁ 💌 ꧂
We strolled around town for a while after exchanging gifts. Something we hardly ever got to do, Daddy being so busy and all. The sidewalks filled with smiling folks just returning from Christmas Mass and Caroling in the snow.
We huddled together by a lamppost as the annual Seabrook Christmas Parade commenced. Hues of red and green appeared at every street corner as Benny Goodman and His Orchestra played symphonies of Jingle Bells over the loudspeaker.
꧁ 💌 ꧂
The Radio City Music Hall was bustling with joyful banter and rosy-cheeked people awaiting the grand finale of all Christmas Spectacular shows.
I walked arm and arm through the grand foyer with my mother, pointing out all the familiar faces I saw.
"He's a photographer for the New York Times," I whispered close to her ear.
"Awfully handsome is what he is. Why don't you go over there and talk to him?"
"Mother!" I giggled.
She was always trying to find men for me yet anytime I even mentioned a fellow she'd flip! Both she and Daddy are quite overprotective, not to mention Porter...
"Oh, Mr. Rockefeller!" I called out.
Mr. Rockefeller, my boss, stood beneath a grand staircase adorned in red velvet when I spotted him.
"There she is!" He turned to me, kissing my hand.
"Molly Rose, you look darling tonight."
We embraced briefly amongst the chaos.
"Merry Christmas, my dear."
"Merry Christmas." I smiled.
"Mr. Rockefeller, I'd like you to meet my brother,"
The two exchanged smiles and shook hands. Daddy took the mink shawl off from around my shoulders as I was led swiftly backstage.
"Good luck." He mouthed as glanced back.
Dancing Rockettes and musicians greeted me with smiles and they recited their routines once more. The stage manager, his hand on the small of my back, rushed me to the opposing side of the stage. I was the opening act.
I was rushed to the vanity where a stagehand, Julie, retouched my makeup and teased up my hair a little in the back. I briefly wondered how her hand remained so steady amid all the chaos.
"Miss Swanson, your cue is in two minutes," A stage director called to me.
Julie and I looked at each other through the mirror.
"Break a leg!" She grinned giddily before her smile fell suddenly. "You look absolutely lovely."
"Thank you, darling." I turned to face her.
"30 seconds Miss Swanson," Another stage director had me at the shoulders and pulled me behind the curtain. I took one last breath; relaxing my shoulders, trying not to let the pitch slip my mind.
Just as I opened my eyes, I heard Mr. Rockefeller's voice.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that I introduce: The lovely Molly Rose Swanson!"
The audience roared with excitement as I stepped out onto the stage, accoutred in a golden floor-length gown, my smile bordered by a bold red lip.
I held my arm out graciously as I tread my way down the stage, whistles and applause heard from all over. The stage lights shone down on me, illuminating my every feature. I reached the microphone at center stage, and with a brief exhale I began,
"♫ I'll be home for Christmas ♪..."
꧁ 💌 ꧂
'Little White Lies' - Ella Fitzgerald, 1939