Page 24 of Almost Christmas in Paradise

I smile when I see it, but when I look up to thank him, he’s looking away.

“Just put it on,” is all he says. “Don’t make it weird.”

I manage to find space at the far end of the counter where I grab a bowl and arrange the ingredients to make the homemade ranch dressing.

“When we were over at your townhouse a few weeks ago, I noticed the unit next to yours is for sale,” I say to Nia’s parents.

Ray is plating food on the other side of me, and Nia is in the dining room setting the table.

“Yeah,” Mrs. Nash says, “they’re moving to South Carolina to get away from the cold.”

“You guys should buy it, knock down the wall, and combine them. You’ll also have twice the yard space too. And you can expand the kitchen since you like to entertain so much. I know we tend to come here for most of the holidays because this kitchen is bigger." I start cutting the dill for the salad when I notice that the kitchen has gone silent. “Why is everyone so quiet?” I ask.

“Jesus,” Mr. Nash says, “I’ll get right on that. I’ll go to my safety deposit box, get my gold bars, and buy that house in cash.” He rolls his eyes.

“Well, you have to admit it was a good idea,” I say, not really seeing the problem.

“It’s the stupidest idea I ever heard,” Mr. Nash says.

“Oh, Nathanial, stop.” Mrs. Nash approaches me and puts a hand on my back. “It’s a great idea, and that unit is gorgeous, but we got this place so we can downsize. But I would love to have a bigger kitchen, and we do need more space for the grandchildren. They’re only going to get bigger. And who knows? We might get more of them. But it would need a lot of work. We’d have to redo the floors because theirs is a different color. It would be much more than just knocking down a wall.”

“You see what you’ve started?” Mr. Nash says. “You’ve put that idea in my wife’s head.”

“What is the issue? Give your wife a bigger house. I might know a builder who can help,” I shrug and he scowls. “I might know an architect too.” While he grumbles in the corner, my phone vibrates. I pull it out, and it’s Wyatt. I put the phone on the counter and put him on speaker.

“Remind me to never have another holiday with my dad,” he says before I say hello.

“I did. I reminded you about the fist fight he got into with his neighbor over Labor Day.”

“At least he grilled that day. He made a frozen pizza today. I refused to eat it and left. Now, I’m starving.”

“Is that Uncle Wyatt?” Mason says as he comes running into the kitchen. “Hi, Uncle Wyatt. Can you come over? I want to talk about the flying cockroaches again.”

“Forget about the flying cockroaches, Mase,” Wyatt says. “I’m going to teach you boys all about the tongue-eating louse. I’ve been researching it for the past two weeks.”

“Will it eat my tongue, Uncle Wyatt?” Carter asks. He sticks his tongue out for good measure.

“Only if you turn into a fish. You boys will lose your mind when you see the videos I saved for you.” Mr. Nash frowns at the phone while all three boys bounce with excitement. “We’re going to be talking about flesh-eating bacteria all night.”

Mr. Nash looks like he’s ready to vomit, and his wife puts a hand to her throat.

“Can Uncle Wyatt come over, Papa?” Mason asks. “You said family is always welcome here, and he’s our uncle.”

“Except he’s not really,” Nia’s dad says. “He’s just a fool.”

“No, he’s not,” Kyle says. “He’s fun and helped me with my spelling words.”

“That’s me. Helpful Uncle Wyatt who also happens to be an above-average speller. Is Audrey there?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

“She’s coming,” Mason says. “Can he come, Grandma?” Mason asks his grandmother this time. “Please.”

“Of course, he can, baby,” Mrs. Nash says. “But he better not come in here talking about those disgusting bugs at my table. Do you hear me, fool?” she asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Wyatt says, and I already know he’s lying. He’s going to get the boys riled up, and it’s always over something disgusting.

The boys all cheer and even Wyatt screams in glee. “Come open the door. I’m here. Ask your grandma if she made those little crab puff things she made last time I was there.”

Mrs. Nash rolls her eyes, but I can see her smile. “Maybe,” is all she says, and Wyatt says yay like a little kid. “And how are you here already?”

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