“We’ll be jet-lagged,” Sierra protested.
“We won’t be jet-lagged all day.”
“Maybe later in the week. I need to spend some time with Mark.”
Sophie pressed her lips into a tight line.
Sierra turned her head, pretending to look around at their fellow travelers, and took a surreptitious swipe at the corners of her eyes. Poor kid. Trevor hoped she’d be able to work out her problems with her husband.
“Gosh, I hate waiting for planes,” she said after a moment, turning back to him. “I imagine you two will have to take a Horizon Air to Portland after we land,” she said. “That’ll make a long day for you, won’t it?” So, chin up and subject rerouted from the husband to air travel.
“It will for Kurt and his class,” Trevor said. “I’ve got my car waiting.”
“That sounds more exhausting than being on a plane.”
“But that’s the price you pay for being a jet-setter, right?”
“Yeah, that’s you, Mr. Workaholic,” teased his brother.
“You’re looking at a new me,” Trevor told him. He could easily picture himself seeing more of the world with Sophie.
“I wouldn’t mind being a jet-setter,” Sierra said. “Maybe I’ll see Paris next year if...” She cut herself off.
“If you can get the time off,” her sister supplied. “I’ll go with you.”
“You so will not,” Sierra said firmly. “You should wait and go with someone special,” she said, and managed a smile for Trevor.
Yep, a class act. Trevor liked Sierra.
But he was crazy about Sophie. Looked like he’d be making a lot of weekend trips to Seattle in the new year.
Kurt had just left for the bathroom when Harriet plopped onto his vacated seat next to Trevor. Déjà vu all over again.
“Have you got any chocolate left?” she asked.
“Afraid not. It’s all gone.”
“That sucks,” she said. “Your chocolate’s better than anything we had on the cruise.” She looked to his other side where Sophie sat talking with her sister. “But your taste in women is so trite.”
Yep, that was him, trite. “What can I say, Harriet? I’m under the influence of propinquity.” And he intended to be under the influence a whole lot more in the new year.
17
Emptiness greeted Catherine when she walked back into her house, dragging her suitcase and carry-on. She felt as if she’d stepped into a museum as a dispassionate observer of someone else’s life.
The living room was filled with artifacts from Christmases past. The tree was decked out with ornaments she had collected over the years. Some the kids had made, either with her supervision or in school.
Framed holiday photos sat on top of the entertainment cabinet. One was of her with Santa when she was pregnant with William and beaming like a woman waiting to receive a special award. Another was of both the kids with Santa when they were small. And there was her favorite family portrait, one Bill had taken of all of them in front of the tree when the kids were in grade school. It had been a lighthearted moment. He’d barely made it back into the picture before the timer on the camera went off, tripping over a present on his way. The camera had caught all of them in midlaugh.
She’d arranged some flicker candles and fake greens along the fireplace mantel but the only stockings hanging there were hers and Bill’s, the ones she’d made from red felt the first year they were married. The kids had taken their stockings when they moved out and seeing those two stockings was depressing. Bill was gone and she was the lone survivor here in the Pine residence.
She sighed and towed her suitcases into the bedroom. Then she pulled back the bedspread, flopped on the bed and fell asleep. Jet lag had its benefits. It saved a woman from thinking of all the good times that had ended.
She woke up at eleven to a very silent night. These were the times when being alone always hit her hardest, late at night, when she had no daytime activities to distract her.
She knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep so she got up, showered and put on the flannel pajamas her daughter had given her for Christmas the year before. Then she went to the kitchen and made herself some hot chocolate. It made her think of the little beverage bar on the ship.
She pulled the carry-on where she’d stored all the presents she’d purchased in Germany back into the living room and opened it. It was a holiday treasure trove and she began sorting out her various purchases, spending some time reminiscing over each one. She already had some presents under the tree for the kids and grandchildren. What she’d gotten at the various Christmas markets would be bonuses.
The last thing she found was the ornament from the ship’s tree, bundled up in a scarf. Signed and dated. If only she and Rudy had met at a different time, under different circumstances.
She padded out to the living room and hung the little blue globe on the tree, another artifact to add to the others.
Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.
Such wise advice. Smiles were so much more satisfying than tears.
She dug out wrapping paper and ribbons and got busy wrapping presents. By the time she was finished she had the gifts all neatly stacked under the tree, ready for her children to come pick up. She wished she could see everyone’s faces as they opened their gifts.
Knowing that she wouldn’t be with any of her family made her want to throw a nice, big pity party for herself. She could invite the Grinch.
Actually, no. Even he’d reformed. He wouldn’t want any part of her misery.
She didn’t, either. She was going to have a fine Christmas with Denise and her daughter and children. They were like second family, and second family was better than no family, right?
She finally went back to bed around three in the morning and managed to crawl into a fitful sleep. She was actually dreaming herself back on the cruise ship when her ringing phone awakened her at nine. Seeing the name on the caller ID cheered her up. It was Lila.
“How was the cruise?” her daughter wanted to know.
“It was lovely.”
“Good. I want to hear all about it. I thought I’d come by this morning and pick up presents. I assume you’ll be around.”
“I will. I was thinking about making some frosted sugar cookies.” Lila loved those cookies and they’d often baked them together when she was still living at home. Not so much once she moved out, but maybe she’d like to revive the tradition. “Want to help?”
“I can’t. I’ve got so much to do before the kids are out of school and we leave.”
She probably did, but Catherine still felt a little hurt. “Oh, well. It was just a thought.”
“It was a great thought. Sorry I can’t do it.”
“That’s okay,” Catherine said. “When were you planning on stopping by?”
“In about an hour or so.”
“All right. I’ll have the espresso machine ready.”
“Great,” Lila said, and ended the call. She didn’t have time to bake cookies, but enjoying one of her mother’s homemade lattes was another thing altogether.
Oh, well. When you had grown children you took what you could get. Catherine hurried out of bed and into the shower. Then she threw together a coffee cake because you couldn’t have lattes with nothing to go with them.
An hour later she had just taken the coffee cake out of the oven when Lila’s voice came to her from the front hall. “I’m here. Where are you?”
“In the kitchen,” Catherine called.
In breezed her daughter, looking Christmassy in red plaid leggings under a black top and a red coat, the cap Catherine had knitted for her two Christmases ago perched over her carefully straightened hair. Lila had been slender as a teenager and as a bride, but she’d inherited her mother’s sweet tooth, and her addiction to cake, cookies
and doughnuts had plumped her up. She still thought a little extra weight looked good on Lila. She was a pretty woman, much prettier than her mom, with an easy smile. Always fun to be around. And yes, maybe a little self-centered, but when it came down to it wasn’t everyone?
“Something smells good,” Lila said, pulling off her hat. “Is that your streusel coffee cake?”
“It is. I just took it out of the oven. Do you have time for a piece?”
“I can stay long enough for that.” Lila shed her coat and dropped her purse next to a chair. “Eggnog lattes?”
“I haven’t had time to get to the store and pick up any eggnog,” Catherine said.
“Darn.”
“How about your usual caramel?”
“Sure. Why not?” She got plates out of the cupboard while Catherine made her latte. “So, tell me about the cruise. I can’t believe you went on one without me.”
“You were too busy.” Did that sound a little accusative? Was it meant to? Maybe. “Anyway, there was only room for one more in Denise’s room,” Catherine hurried to add.
“I suppose she picked up a man,” Lila sneered.
“She had fun.”
“You had to feel like a third wheel. What a drag.”
Lila cut herself a hefty piece of coffee cake and one for Catherine, as well, and set them on the table. Fork in hand, she sat down and dug in, not bothering to wait for Catherine.
“I met some nice people.” Catherine decided not to go into details, especially about Rudy. What was the point?
She set a mug in front of Lila and she picked it up and sampled the latte, nodded approvingly. “I’m glad you had fun. What all did you get?”
“Oh, all kinds of things,” Catherine said, sitting down opposite her.
Lila grinned. “Are some of the all kinds of things in those boxes under the tree?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Sweet,” Lila said, and took another sip of her latte.
“And I bought a cuckoo clock.”
“Who’d you buy that for?”
“Myself.”
Lila nodded. “I guess you can’t go on a trip like that and not come back with something for yourself. Speaking of something for yourself.” She bent over and pulled a large envelope out of her purse. “Open it now.”
“If I do I won’t have anything under the tree.”
“Yes, you will,” Lila assured her. “I stuck something under there. Come on. Open it.”
Catherine opened the envelope and found a gift card for the Fifth Avenue Theater, a beautiful, old downtown theater loved by Seattle residents for their musicals. “Oh, how sweet!” Bill would have been proud of her daughter’s unselfishness.
“I thought we could go together,” Lila said around a mouthful of coffee cake.
That was her girl. Always thinking of others...and herself.
“I’d like that,” said Catherine.
“Great.” Lila took another bite of coffee cake and downed a healthy slug of her latte, then said, “I’ve got to get going. I still have to buy ski pants for Carissa and I’m supposed to be helping in Joey’s classroom today. Then tomorrow I have to deliver cupcakes for Carissa’s class party. Like I have time for that. I don’t know what I was thinking when I let myself get suckered into all this stuff.”
She’d barely been there and now she was leaving. Catherine sighed inwardly. “We’d better get your presents gathered up, then,” she said.
She grabbed a couple of paper shopping bags from under the sink and followed her daughter out to the living room.
“This is going to be a lot to pack,” Lila said. “Maybe we’ll open some before we leave.”
For a moment Catherine entertained the hope that her daughter would suggest she come over and watch them, but she didn’t. They’d probably open the gifts on the fly and then move on to the next adventure. She’d thought her life had been busy when the kids were growing up but it couldn’t compare to Lila’s frenetic pace.
Someday the top will stop spinning so fast, she thought, and you’ll find yourself wondering when it began to slow and how you missed that. And you’ll wish someone would sit with you and watch it do its final dance.
“Thanks, Mom,” Lila said, leaning over and giving Catherine a quick kiss on the cheek. Then she started for the door.
“Have fun,” Catherine said, trailing her.
“We will. The kids are really excited.” She opened the door and breezed out, calling over her shoulder, “See you in the new year.”
And that was that. Catherine went back into the living room, feeling let down. She’d hoped her daughter would have a little more time for her. The tree, with all the ornaments dangling from its branches, seemed to mock her. Memories, that’s all you’re going to have to keep you company this Christmas.
Well, there was a cheery thought. She frowned, disgusted with herself. Life was what you made it. So was Christmas, darn it all. She’d take her holiday cake to Denise’s, drink eggnog and listen to Denise’s granddaughters sing “Santa Baby.” There would be games and probably a holiday movie to watch. She could have fun without her children. She was a big girl.
To distract herself, she picked up her iPad and checked her email. She found a short one from Sophie.
I already miss everybody! Sophie enthused. I hope we can get together in the new year. Meanwhile, have a great Christmas. By the way, I’m going to Portland to tour the Cupid’s Chocolates factory. Bet you can’t guess who will be my guide.
Sierra had also written. Her email started out happy enough—so glad they’d met, was Catherine busy getting ready for Christmas? etc., etc. Then she came to the real meat of the message.
Mark and I are splitting. Now I know why he couldn’t take off work to go on the cruise with me. He’s been having an affair with his boss. Is that even allowed in the workplace? Stupid question. Affairs shouldn’t be allowed anywhere.
I should have seen this coming. I knew we were growing apart. We both want more out of life. Our definitions of more just happen to have stopped matching up. I should be glad I found out now that this marriage isn’t going to work, but all I want to do is cry. How do you go into the holidays feeling like this?
Good question.
It’s not easy, Catherine responded. We always think that because this is such a happy holiday what’s happening in our lives should match up. But it doesn’t always, does it?
There was an understatement. Nothing had matched up for her the year before. She’d gone into the holidays miserable and had left them behind feeling the same way.
This year she was not going to do that. Was not. She refused.
She turned her attention back to Sierra’s email. What to tell her?
This won’t be the happiest holiday ever for you and I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry you and your husband aren’t able to reconcile. Who would want to under those circumstances? But I know you have people in your life who love you and they’ll be there for you. Trust me, you will get through this.
Catherine read what she’d written, deleted her last sentence and retyped the words in upper case, bold letters. Then she added, Anytime you need to talk, I’m here.
She was smiling when she shut down the iPad. Even if her own children couldn’t make time for her there were still people who wanted to share their lives with her and who appreciated her input. She may have been sitting in her living room by herself but she wasn’t alone.
She decided to bake those sugar cookies. Her Christmas may not have been what she’d have liked the year before and it wasn’t going to be what she wished for this year, either, but it didn’t have to be miserable. She’d bake brownies and snowball cookies and maybe even some gumdrop cookies. So what if her children and grandchildren weren’t going to be around to eat Christmas cookies? The neighbors would appreciate some.
>
Two hours later her kitchen table was covered with baked treats and she was exhausted. She went into the living room, turned on the TV and flopped on the couch. Found a holiday movie on Hallmark and promptly fell asleep.
She didn’t wake up until her doorbell rang at seven. Who on earth?
She made her groggy way to the front door and opened it to find her son standing on the doorstep. He was holding a little white dog with button brown eyes and floppy ears.
“Hi, Mom,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t call first but Lila said you were home so I figured it was okay to come over.”
“Of course,” Catherine said, stepping aside to let him in. “What have you got here? Is this a new member of your family?” And did he want her to watch it while he was gone?
“No, actually, it’s a new member of yours.” He set the dog down and it gave a little bark and tried to climb his leg. “No, not me,” he said to it. “You want her.”
No, not her, either. “William...” she began.
The little dog barked at her and wagged its tail.
“She likes you,” he said.
“What is this about?” she demanded.
“Uh, it’s your Christmas present?”
“A dog? What makes you think I need a dog?” Or want one.
“Let’s go in the living room,” he suggested. “Come on, Cookie.” He started for the living room and the dog fell in line, prancing along behind him.
“Gabby and I thought you might like the company,” he said.
As if an animal could substitute for a person? Not in her book. Thank you, Gabrielle.
“I’m not looking for a dog,” she said, her irritation bleeding into her voice. There were some presents people shouldn’t buy for you and pets fell in that category.
“She’s already housebroken,” he said. “She’s a mix, part Maltese and something else. The woman at PAWS thought maybe a spaniel because of the ears. She said both breeds are really good with seniors.”
“William, I don’t want a dog.” Catherine didn’t care how sweet the dog was. He could just take her back to PAWS. “And I’m not that old,” she added, and plopped on the couch.
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