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Katharine Hepburn's father was a physician, and her mother was a feminist activist. At the turn of the nineteenth to the twentieth century, any family that could afford to raise seven children was inevitably at least moderately well-off.
As a result, aside from their home near Hartford, Connecticut, the Hepburn family also owned a summer villa in the Fenwick area, right on the coast facing Long Island Sound.
During the great hurricane of 1938, the original wooden shingle-style cottage was swept into the sea. They rebuilt on the same site with a brick structure—a house with a very distinctive design, resembling stacked building blocks, or perhaps a row of dominoes.
One section was a single-story building, another had two stories, the largest rose to three stories with an additional attic, followed by yet another two-story section with a broad balcony. The four structures were connected as one, like family members of different ages leaning on and supporting one another.
This was a home Katharine Hepburn would return to between film shoots, and it later became one of the places where she lived in her old age. Her other residence was in New York.
The bay in front of her house was said to be a place where Howard Stark often landed his seaplane. Of course, in Henry's pre-transmigration memories, the male lead in this bit of romantic gossip was Howard Hughes.
Henry brought Charlize Theron here in a rental car from the airport, paying a visit to Ms. Katharine Hepburn.
They arrived in the afternoon. They could have gotten there earlier, but Connecticut had been experiencing snowfall these past few days, and the roads were slick. Henry wasn't about to speed under such conditions.
The snow wasn't heavy enough to require chains, yet the road surface was far more slippery than usual. Driving slowly was only natural for someone like Henry, who prioritized safety above all else.
Even the beach in front of the house was covered with a thin blanket of white snow. Waves rolled ashore, soaking the sand; salt spray mixed with snow, only to be carried back out by the retreating tide. It was a fascinating sight to Henry.
It wasn't that he'd never seen snow before. But in his memories of Alaska, snow by the sea usually meant the water itself was frozen solid. You never saw waves "playing" with the snow like this.
After parking in an open spot, Henry led Charlize Theron to the door and rang the bell.
Before long, an elderly woman opened the door. She wore a floral long dress, warm fleece pants, and a wool sweater draped over her shoulders.
"Katharine, long time no see," Henry greeted warmly, handing over a bouquet of bright red roses.
"Ha, my good boy," the old lady replied just as warmly, taking the flowers and greeting him with a cheek kiss.
But after greeting Henry, Katharine looked at the unfamiliar young woman beside him with a strange expression.
The girl was dressed in a bright red coat matching the roses, trimmed with white fur along the collar and edges. Even her hat matched the style, with a white fur pom-pom dangling from the tip.
This outfit prompted Katharine to blurt out, "And you are… Santa Claus?"
Charlize, who had been smiling nervously and too tense to speak, reacted instinctively and punched the man beside her—who was grinning far too happily at the situation.
The coat was a gift from Henry, given because she didn't have any winter clothing suitable for snowy weather. According to him, it was something extra he had at home, and the style did lean toward the masculine side.
While it was still quite different from the classic Santa Claus outfit, it was hard not to make the association once you saw it…
Not wanting to freeze and end up with a runny nose, Charlize had compromised. Now that it was brought up again, she couldn't help but take another swing at the man next to her.
Remembering where she was, Charlize quickly composed herself and greeted politely,
"Ms. Hepburn, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Charlize Theron. I brought a bottle of champagne—I hope you'll like it."
Katharine Hepburn's face lit up. "Oh, anyone who brings alcohol is a good friend of mine."
Taking the paper bag, she leaned closer to Charlize and whispered conspiratorially, "You should know—my housemates control me far too much. This I'm not allowed to eat, that I'm not allowed to drink. Sometimes I feel like my world is about to collapse."
Henry and Charlize could only smile awkwardly.
"Come in," Katharine said as she slowly led them inside. "It's cold out there. Come warm yourselves by the fire."
The house was very quiet, but the fireplace burned brightly, the crackling flames occasionally popping and snapping.
After entering, the two hung their coats on the rack by the door. Underneath, Charlize wore a tasteful teal-blue dress with white dots—formal enough without being stiff, and polite without feeling overdone.
Henry efficiently found a vase for the roses and arranged them inside. He also helped remove the wire cage from the champagne bottle and loosened the cork slightly.
Katharine eagerly popped the cork herself. The soft pop made her laugh in delight, and she immediately poured three glasses of champagne, taking a large sip from her own.
She wasn't a heavy drinker by nature—it had simply been a long time since she'd tasted something like this. More than liking it, she was savoring the nostalgia.
The three of them sat down together by the fireplace.
Henry glanced around the interior. The house felt very much like a family home, not a place where an elderly person lived alone. Yet today it was unusually quiet.
"Katharine, you mentioned you have housemates. Where are they?"
"That would be my brother Richard and his family. They all went on vacation for Christmas. When I got your call, I decided not to go with them."
"Oh—sorry. Did I interrupt a family trip?"
Katharine waved it off. "Not at all. I prefer being by myself. Normally the house is so noisy, full of little brats running around that my head starts to ache. Now that they finally have a holiday, they still insisted on dragging me along.
"Your call practically saved my life. Besides, the place they're going—why would I care? I'm Katharine Hepburn, after all. Other than heaven and hell, where haven't I been?"
Henry teased, "Oh? Then have you been to the moon with Neil Armstrong and Colonel Aldrin?"
"You brat!" Katharine snapped, flapping her hand in annoyance at the boy who found loopholes in a single sentence.
The three of them gathered around the fireplace, listening as Katharine complained about the children in her brother's family. By generation, they were already her great-grandchildren—the fourth generation.
Though every word sounded like a complaint, there was clear affection beneath it. Otherwise, who would care that a child was bundled up so round they could barely walk, only to actually roll down the stairs—and then laugh heartlessly while the adults panicked?
Or complain about children constantly tugging at her ears, lecturing her on what she could eat and drink, how much she was allowed to have. Even her doctor father hadn't nagged her this much.
Charlize Theron found herself loving this atmosphere, even feeling a sense of longing. Once somewhat reserved, she quickly warmed up and started chatting animatedly with Katharine.
Ironically, Henry—usually the one with endless banter—found himself unable to get a word in between the two women, reduced to a soulless response machine, contributing only the occasional "ah," "oh," or "mm.
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