Page 29 of Her Counterfeit Christmas
She makes her way around the room, hugging and greeting each person. This is more out of character behavior. The grandmother I remember nodded her head and welcomed the family from an emotional distance. From everyone’s surprised expressions, this change in personality is new for them as well.
When she reaches Spencer and Layla, she takes each oftheir hands. “Spencer, Miles told me you brought your girlfriend. It is lovely to meet you, Layla.”
“You as well, Mrs. Eccleston. Thank you for allowing me to come for Christmas.” Layla stands poised and confident, no longer hiding behind my cousin.
“We’re happy to have you. Please, call me Rheta.”
I don’t think anyone has called Grandmother by her first name since the day she married Grandfather.
Spencer glances at me for one second before he says. “Grandmother, Layla is a teacher. She teaches middle school choir.”
Everyone holds their breaths as we wait for Grandmother’s response. Grandfather disowned my mom when she married ateacher.
“What a noble profession,” Grandmother says. “Dinner is ready. Shall we go into the dining room?”
That’s it?
The family follows her from the room, I stay where I am, too angry to move. I don’t want to be here. The hypocrisy stinks. I should have booked us a hotel in Boston and stayed there for an extra day. Or two. I didn’t get my fill of the city, even though I spent the day showing Mom and Brady all my favorite haunts from when I was a student at Harvard. I even got my hair cut at the barbershop near my old apartment because Mom’s been commenting about the length.
Brady stays back with me as the room empties. “This is weird,” he says.
Mom waits for us at the door, wiping tears from her eyes. “Maybe a little. It’s been a long time since we’ve been a family.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that they only speak to you now because their inheritances aren’t at stake any longer?” I ask.
She walks to me and pats down my collar. “It makes me happy that we’ve become more inclusive as a family.”
I finish the thought in my mind—now that Grandfather is gone.
She stops messing with my shirt and lays a hand on each of our shoulders. “Come boys, let’s eat.”
We cross the foyer toward the dining room when Miles comes through from outside. He’s the person I’ve missed the most since I stopped visiting, and I shake his hand while throwing my free arm around his shoulder.
“Owen,” he says as he slaps my back. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You, too.” I pull back. “This is my mom Marianne and my brother Brady.”
His smile grows as he looks at my mom. “I know Marianne. How are you?”
How does he know my mom? It gets stranger when they embrace.
“I’m great,” Mom says.
I look between them. “How do you two know each other?”
“You’re not the only one who spent summers in Maine.” Mom looks around at the grandiose foyer. “Though not here. When we visited, we had a cottage further down the shore. Father built this place while I’ve been gone. Miles’ parents worked for us. His mom is an amazing chef.”
“She still is,” Miles says. “They both retired about ten years ago.”
Mom lays a hand on his arm. “My mother mentioned that your wife passed last year. I was sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. She’d been suffering for a while, so there is comfort in knowing she’s not in pain anymore. I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thank you.”
Something passes between them as they gaze at each other. Are they bonding over the shared grief at the loss of a spouse? It makes me wonder what they were to each other when Mom visited Maine as a teenager.
I clear my throat. Miles tears his eyes away from Mom and waves us toward the dining room. “Everyone is waiting. If you give me your car keys, I can bring in your luggage and have it waiting in your rooms.”
