“No worries. I’ve got everything under control. McKenzie’s napping too. She still gets tired easily. I sent the boys and Pamela off on a mission to find some heavy cream. I need it to cut the eggnog; Reed made it way too strong. They should be back any minute.”
Rick reached into a nearby bowl of spiced nuts, took a handful, and popped a few into his mouth. “Everything looks great, honey. Even better than it did at the old house. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad we kept all the decorations.”
“It does look nice, doesn’t it?” Hope said, eyeing her surroundings with satisfaction. “Thanks for your help. I would never have managed without you and McKenzie.”
“Well,” he said, tossing the remaining nuts into his mouth. “Seeing as I didn’t have a choice, you’re welcome.” Hope gave him a playful slap on the forearm. “I particularly like this last-minute addition,” Rick said, tilting his head toward the crèche. “Looks really nice there.”
Hope bobbed her head. “It was time.”
Rick took a step closer, wrapped his arms around her.
“Hey, Mrs. Carpenter. Have I told you recently that I think you are the most amazing woman on the face of this earth and that I’d be lost without you?”
Hope narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, pretending to think back.
“Nope. Not recently.”
Rick lowered his head and kissed her long on the lips.
“Hope Carpenter,” he said, his voice low, “I think you are the most amazing woman on the face of the earth. Everybody in this family would be totally lost without you. And me more than anyone.”
“Oh, Rick.”
Hope pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him back, her arms twining around his neck, feeling contented, and stirred, and satisfied all at the same time.
They stood there, kissing and clinging, for quite a while, only breaking apart when Hope heard a soft sound of footfall and looked up to see McKenzie standing on the other side of the room. Her eyes were red. It looked like she’d been crying.
Hope wanted to cross the room and crush her in her arms, tell her she loved her and was proud of her and that everything was going to be okay. If she hadn’t known how much McKenzie would have hated that, she would have. Hope broke away from Rick’s embrace, feeling almost guilty.
“Sorry,” McKenzie mumbled, looking down at her shoes. “I didn’t mean to . . . I heard car doors slamming and looked out the window. I think people are starting to arrive.”
“Right. I’ll go open the champagne,” Rick said. “You want me to take those little cracker things out of the refrigerator?”
“The salmon canapés,” Hope corrected. “Yes, please. I wish the boys would get back with the cream. Well, we’ll just stick with champagne and soft drinks until they get back.”
Rick headed toward the kitchen. Hope went to McKenzie and put an arm over her shoulders.
“You okay, Kenz?”
“I’m fine. Allergies,” she said, pointing to her eyes, even though they both knew there was no pollen in December. “You need help? I can slice up the cheese if you want me to.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go and lie back down for a while? Dad and I can handle everything if you need some time alone.”
“No, I’m good. What can I do to help?”
Hope couldn’t help but admire the taut and definitive way McKenzie brushed off her concern, the stalwart determination to keep busy and not wallow in despair. Perhaps they were more alike than Hope had realized. When it was all too much and the tears finally came, did McKenzie set her watch for ten minutes too?
“Well,” Hope said, searching her brain for tasks that still needed doing, wishing she’d been a little less efficient in her preparations, “yes. You can help me slice that cheese for starters. Oh, I know! As soon as your brothers get back with the cream, would you mind whipping some for the pies?”
“Right away?” McKenzie said doubtfully. “Shouldn’t it sit in the refrigerator for a bit? If it’s not cold enough, it won’t hold up as well, will it?”
“Not quite as well,” she admitted. “But I’d like to have it made in advance so everything’s ready when it’s time to serve dessert.”
How did McKenzie know about pre-chilling cream before whipping it? Growing up, she’d always made such a point of making it clear that she couldn’t be less interested in her mother’s tips on the finer points of domestic science. Could it be that she actually had been paying attention to the things Hope said over the years?
Hope moved her arm lower down McKenzie’s back, shepherding her in the direction of the kitchen.
“Kenz? I just had the most fabulous idea. Come on. I’ll tell you about it.”
Chapter 28
McKenzie wasn’t stupid. When Hope pulled her aside to share her great idea, McKenzie understood exactly what her mother was up to and why. Hope worried too much. And it wasn’t like Christmas had been a total disaster.
For one thing, McKenzie had gotten some nice presents. In addition to the maternity clothes her mom had made for her, she’d gotten a couple of interesting-looking novels from her dad. Normally, he gave her nonfiction titles, but maybe he knew that a literary escape was just what she needed right now.
Her soon-to-be-ex in-laws, Ted and Wanda, had sent several presents: a gift certificate for a prenatal massage, a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, and two sets of newborn-sized footie pajamas. The message there was clear; divorce or no divorce, they were excited about being grandparents and wanted to be involved in the baby’s life. Which was fair enough. McKenzie wanted that too. Even if she hadn’t liked Ted and Wanda as much as she did, she still would have wanted them to be involved. Just because Zach sucked at monogamy was no reason to deny her child access to a set of doting grandparents. That was a no-brainer. When it came to Zach, though, it was trickier. At the moment, she felt like she could go the rest of her life without ever seeing him again. If it was just her, she wouldn’t have had to. But they were going to be parents and so, like it or not, they would be connected for the rest of their lives. For the sake of the baby, they had to find a way to navigate that relationship.
That was why McKenzie decided to buy Zach a Christmas present, a twenty-five-dollar Starbucks gift card, the most generic present she could imagine, a gift that said: I don’t care about you enough to put much thought into this, but let’s just try to get along. The day after she tucked it into a Christmas card and put it in the mail, McKenzie received an iTunes gift card from Zach in exactly the same amount.
So, at least everybody was on the same page. Christmas could have been a lot worse. McKenzie had to keep reminding herself of that, but it was true.
Even though it felt kind of weird to celebrate the holiday in her parents’ sleek, modern condominium instead of the big, drafty, always-being-renovated house she’d grown up in, enough of the familiar traditions were in place so that it still felt like a proper Carpenter Christmas.
Her mother’s roast turkey and secret recipe for stuffing were unchanged and just as delicious as ever. It must be. She’d had three helpings. But, then again, she had three helpings of a lot of things these days. Was it the baby who made her so hungry? Or was she using food to silence the confusion and ache of loneliness she felt in the wake of Zach’s betrayal? Whatever the reason, she’d already gained twelve pounds.
But it had been nice, especially with everything else about her life so upended, to smell those Christmas smells she’d grown up with, to line up Hope’s collection of snowmen, shortest to tallest, the way she always had when she was little, to enjoy her father’s homemade coffeecake, still warm from the oven, while they opened the presents, to play Monopoly afterward, just like they always had, and then to actually win the game.
That was a first. Rory, the most competitive of them and an adherent to what he called full-contact Monopoly, which meant buying up as much property as he could, as quickly as he could, usually won. But this year he’d hung back, pa
ssing up an opportunity to purchase a third railroad. Did he feel sorry for her? Had he let her win? Maybe.
But it was good to see him, good to see all of them. With her brothers spread far and wide, pursuing lives and careers that were far more glamorous than hers—doctor, professor, filmmaker—it was getting harder and harder to bring everybody together at the same time. She liked them more now that they were grown up.
Reed and Rory—being the oldest and smartest and boys, not to mention having that twin thing going on, where they could practically read each other’s thoughts and often finished each other’s sentences—had always made her feel like an outsider when she was a kid. And Liam . . . Well, Liam had been the baby, spoiled, indulged, her mother’s favorite. Hope always said she didn’t have a favorite, but come on. Who did she think she was kidding?
Looking down at her bulging belly, which seemed to get bigger by the day, McKenzie wondered if she would have a favorite child. If she did, it would probably be this one. She couldn’t imagine ever getting married again. Not that this necessarily precluded her from ever having another child, but a second go-round as a single mother was definitely not part of her plan. Not that it ever had been. And maybe life was easier for only children?
But having grown-up siblings wasn’t so bad. Liam was still Liam, the best at telling stories and getting noticed, which was probably what made him a good filmmaker. He had recently taken to wearing bow ties, an affectation she found irritating, but he was calmer now, less flamboyant, and a much better listener.
They’d had a long, quiet conversation about the symbolism in Pan’s Labyrinth, one of her favorite movies, that was really interesting. Also, Liam was really excited about being an uncle. He’d even bought the baby a Star Wars onesie for Christmas, which was kind of sweet.
Considering the circumstances, it really wasn’t a bad Christmas, or wouldn’t have been, if every second person she met hadn’t been quite so in love.
She was happy for Reed. How could she not be? Pamela was awesome. If she and Pamela had met at the office, they’d definitely have become friends. Reed was head over heels for her and it was clear that the feeling was mutual. An engagement couldn’t be far off. She was surprised that it hadn’t happened during Christmas. Also grateful. An announcement and toasts to the bride and groom would have been more than she could have handled just then.
Then there was Aunt Hazel and her mother’s boss from the prison, David Hernandez. They weren’t as giddy as Reed and Pamela, but there was definitely something there. Hazel and David moved off into a corner to talk as soon as dinner was over and David raised his arm and leaned against the wall while they chatted. It was an unconscious gesture but a clear signal that he was trying to keep Hazel to himself, effectively fencing her off from everybody else, especially any men who might compete for her attentions.
Men were so obvious and so primal. Zach had been just the same when they were dating. And McKenzie wasn’t the only one who noticed David’s instinctive attempts to corral Hazel. McKenzie saw the way her mother, who had been standing at the kitchen island, chatting with Kate and Nancy, kept shifting her eyes toward the corner. When Hazel laughed at something David said and then reached up and picked imaginary lint off his shirt—more primal behavior—McKenzie saw the way her mother quickly extricated herself from the conversation and made a beeline for Hazel and David, plying them with offers of a second piece of pie.
It was weird, the way her mother was trying to get between those two. David didn’t seem like a bad guy. McKenzie thought his haircut was kind of unfortunate—way too short—and he’d seemed a little tense when she’d first met him, overly formal. But he’d definitely loosened up around Hazel, so maybe they were good for each other. Why should her mother have any objections to him? It didn’t make sense.
Then again, when it came to not making sense about the love lives of other people, McKenzie couldn’t exactly go around throwing stones. Of all the displays of affection that got under her skin during the holidays, none bothered her quite as much as that of her mother and father.
Which was stupid. Really, really stupid. And selfish.
What was wrong with her? What kind of daughter wasn’t happy that her parents, whose relationship she had so recently feared might be on the rocks, and which in order to save it she had skulked around after her father like some kind of 1970s, made-for-TV-movie private investigator, were, once again, so clearly in love?
She should be happy for them! And she was.
Except when she wasn’t. Like at Christmas.
She hated herself for feeling that way, so much so that she’d actually said something to Liam. It was just an offhand comment, a joke really, about the stomach-clenching experience that ensued when you walked into a room and found your parents making out under the mistletoe.
But Liam, who was way more insightful than she recalled, wasn’t fooled.
“It’s a perfectly understandable reaction,” he said, picking a toothpick out of his drink and sliding the first of three olives into his mouth.
He’d recently taken to drinking very dry vodka martinis with extra olives, which was also irritating. She got that he was searching for a persona, trying to stand out among a group of hungry and perhaps equally promising young filmmakers. But couldn’t he just try being himself? Did he have to be Truman Capote?
“You and Dad have always been close,” Liam said. “You’re clearly his favorite.”
“What are you talking about?” she scoffed. “I am not.”
Liam tossed back a mouthful of martini.
“Oh, please. Yes, you are. You’re his little princess. Always were.”
“Okay, fine. So what if I am? You were always Mom’s favorite.”
He shook his head and swallowed. “Not really. Just her last chance to get it right. She really is crazy about all of us. Have you seen her today? You could light up Burbank with that smile, she’s so happy. All her chicks back in the nest, it doesn’t get better for her. Anyway, you’re missing the point. What I’m trying to say is that, whether you knew it or not, you and Mom were always in competition for Dad’s attention.”
“That’s not true.”
Liam lifted his brows and gave her a look, as if he wasn’t even going to waste his breath arguing over such an utterly inaccurate denial.
“Even so,” Liam continued evenly, “in the wake of your lousy husband’s infidelity, your sympathies swung toward Mom. Which makes perfect sense. I mean, you’re both women and wives. In a few more months, you’ll also be a mother. Of course you took her side. How could you not?” He picked up his toothpick and pointed it in her direction. “You guys play for the same team. And it only makes sense that you’d project the angst about your own crumbling marriage onto the situation you saw shaping up between Mom and Dad.”
McKenzie opened her mouth, wanting to argue against his logic. When she couldn’t, she snagged the second olive from his toothpick and ate it. Liam frowned momentarily in the wake of her theft and then went on.
“Then it turned out that Dad was not, in fact, cheating on Mom. The climax of the marital crisis that had been brewing between them since Dad lost his job didn’t destroy their relationship. If anything, it made their love stronger,” he said, looking across the room toward their parents, who were talking to John and Nancy. Rick had his hand on Hope’s back and kept moving it up and down, as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching her.
“Which was great for Mom and Dad but not so terrific for you. Not only did you lose your husband; you lost first position in Dad’s affections. The princess usurped by the queen.”
“I wasn’t ever first,” she said softly, knowing it was true. “I just wanted to be.”
McKenzie took the last olive, dipped the end of it into Liam’s glass, then put it into her mouth. Liam moved the martini glass toward her, signaling that she could have a sip if she wanted, but McKenzie shook her head.
“Am I really that terrible?” she asked.
“Kenz,” Liam said, “we’re all that terrible.”
Were they? The fact that it might be true shouldn’t make her feel better; she knew that. But she couldn’t help it. She was so tired of feeling like the only one.
“I love you, Liam.”
“Love you too, Kenz.”
“But,” she said with a sigh, shaking her head as she stared at the scrap of red and green silk around his neck, “I really, really, really hate that tie.”
* * *
So, there it was. Everybody saw through her. Including her mother.
Even though McKenzie had tried as hard as she could to be brave and not let her troubles spoil Christmas for the rest of the family, she knew that her mother knew that she was sad, and depressed, and fat, and ugly, and abandoned, and jealous of everyone who wasn’t as alone as she was and probably always would be.
Liam was incredibly insightful, especially for someone his age. But even he had failed to notice that behind the smile that could have lit up Burbank, their mother was worried about her daughter’s happiness, racking her brain for something she could do or say to cheer her up.
That was the real impetus behind Hope’s sudden urge to throw a baby shower in January, months before the baby would arrive. No matter how grown-up your kids were, no matter how illogical the timing, the compulsive maternal desire to kiss the boo-boos, wipe the tears, and erase the pain never faded. McKenzie knew this because, if it had been her daughter, she’d have felt the same way.
Maybe she and her mom were on the same side.
Chapter 29
When Hope tossed out the idea of a baby shower, McKenzie initially said no.
For one thing, it was too soon. Most expectant mothers didn’t have showers until the final month or two of the pregnancy. Also, with several pressing projects at work and the upcoming move into a new apartment, not to mention ongoing, stressful, and quite expensive consultations with her divorce lawyer, she was just too busy. But more than anything else, she just wasn’t in the mood for a party.
Hope on the Inside Page 20
