Page 71 of Mistletoe Misses
“A smile.” His laughter erupts, making Cooper and Dad turn from their posts by the fireplace to stare.
I catch Opal chewing on her bottom lip to hide her amusement. “Don’t encourage him.”
“Come on, you have to admit it’s weird,” Aaron says when he stops laughing at me long enough to speak. “You and Cooper are the only grumpy Hendersons. If you jump ship, I worry Cooper will be lonely.” He holds a grin, proud of his joke, until Mom pops him on the back of the head. “What was that for?” he asks, glaring up at her.
“You know. Don’t ask stupid questions.” She waves a hand for him to join her, and he flinches, instincts to protect him from another potential punishment kicking in. “You can make it up to your brother by helping bring the ornaments from the basement.”
“How is that helping Maddox?”
“When you all were little, getting the boxes was his job. Today, it’s yours.”
He grumbles on his way out with Oliver on his heels but knows better than to argue with her.
“I’ll help,” Kendall announces, probably to save the evening by ensuring he doesn’t screw anything up. He seems to have tuned out all the lessons on organization and situational awareness we got during our childhoods and lives more haphazardly than the rest of us. And she knows this better than anyone.
“Thanks, dear.” Mom clasps her hands together and breathes deep. “Archie, can you grab the new boxes of lights from the kitchen? This year, we’re going all out.”
“On it.”
“What can Cooper and I do, Mom?” I ask, not wanting to be idle.
“You can sit back and enjoy yourselves.”
“That’s not in our DNA.”
“How about humoring me just this once? You’ll get first honors with the decorations when—”
“Oh, no.” Cooper’s hands fly up, making Opal snicker. She shared a room with our sister until she went to college and knows what’s about to come out of Cooper’s mouth. “I refuse to take that from Kendall and have to hear about all next year.”
“What do you mean?” Mom asks.
“As the baby … no disrespect O,” he says to Opal sweetly, and she smiles up at him like he’s her favorite. Jealousy pinches at my ribs, and I make a note to step up my big brother game. “Kendall always goes first. We accepted that long ago.”
“Ditto,” I chime in. We’re both traumatized from her toddler years and beyond when she had to prove she could do everything her brothers could and do it better. She had to go first and set the standard for everything. It’s not entirely her fault. We played into it, wanting to ensure our girl’s happiness. “We’ll go last.”
“Not this year,” Mom protests. “You’ve both missed too much.” Tears coat her pretty brown eyes, and we both immediately relent.
“Okay, Mom. Whatever you want.”
“Ditto,” Cooper echoes with a crooked grin.
“Marilyn,” Dad says, gliding into the room with the boxes of lights and a wrapped gift perched on top. Kendall and Aaron flank him with containers of Christmas ornaments. “We want you to open one of your presents now.”
“I will do no such thing. It’s not Christmas,” she complains.
“You’ll want to open this one. I promise.”
“Do it, Momma,” Kendall urges, setting down the plastic container she carries.
“Alright.”
Dad hands her the gift, and she carefully removes the red and gold wrapping like it’s as precious as the gift inside. She peeks into the open end and bursts into sobs.
We all move in and place a hand on her, giving her our support while she lets her emotions flow.
“What is it?” I mouth to Cooper, wondering what could touch her so profoundly.
He mouths something back, but I can’t make it out.
