Page 73 of The Clause in Christmas
As soon as Cassie completed her thought, Donna rummaged through her purse, withdrawing a mini bottle of rum. She immediately twisted off the cap and took a swig.
“Mom, let me make us some coffee.” Cassie stepped quickly toward the kitchen, but Donna waved her hand in dismissal.
“So,daughter…” she slurred, emphasizing the word in a way that concerned Cassie. Had her Christmas card inadvertently provoked her mother’s binge? “Have you sold this dump yet?”
Wincing, Cassie drew in a deep, calming breath. “I haven’t. I don’t technically own it yet.”
Donna’s green eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“There was… a clause in the will.” Cassie hesitated, uncertain how much she should share. Her mother wasn’t exactly rational under the best of circumstances. The last thing Cassie needed was one of Donna’s famous outbursts.
“What kind of clause?” Donna gulped more of the amber liquid.
Cassie swallowed, her gaze darting to the Christmas Calendar lying on the coffee table beside Luke’s present.
Donna followed her gaze, her eyes widening as they fell on the gold lettering.
With a sigh, Cassie opened her mouth to explain. “That’s—”
“The Christmas Calendar,” Donna murmured, scooping it into her arms.
“Yes. But how did you know?”
Suddenly somber, Donna brushed her palm against the plaid binding, her gaze soft and glistening. “My dad made this the year he got sick.”
Cassie held her breath, afraid to even blink for fear she’d hinder her mother from sharing further.
Donna pressed it to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut. “He wanted to savor every moment of his last Christmas.” Her words carried like a mournful gust of wind, bringing Cassie close to tears.
“That must have been a special Christmas together,” Cassie said softly.
Donna’s eyes flew open and flashed with anger. And as though the fabric had burned her fingertips, Donna flung the Calendar onto the floor. “He died Christmas Eve.”
Dread filled Cassie’s chest as Donna downed the rest of the rum, tossing the empty bottle into the fireplace along with the other one. Once again, the flames erupted as the sound of broken glass clashed with the tranquil melody of Christmas music.
Cassie jerked her head away, unable to watch her mother spiral out of control. “I’m going to make us some coffee.” Turning sharply, she hurried into the kitchen and set a kettle of water on the stove.
Not wanting to leave her mother alone, Cassie prepared the coffee as swiftly as possible, pulling the kettle off the stove before the water had even boiled. After allowing the grinds to steep for two minutes, rather than four, she poured the steaming coffee over three teaspoons of sugar. The spoon shook in her hand as she gave the mixture a quick stir.
Rushing back into the living room with two brimming mugs, Cassie froze.
Donna lay passed out, facedown on the carpet, a puddle of liquid a few inches from her face.
Bleak acceptance filled Cassie’s heart, as it had so many times before. Setting the mugs on the coffee table, she checked her mother’s breathing. Slow and steady.
In case she threw up again, Cassie left Donna lying facedown, and draped a blanket over her sprawled body. Cassie knew her mother would feel better once she slept it off.
Quietly, Cassie cleaned up the mess on the carpet and set to work tidying the rest of the room. As she picked up scraps of wrapping paper and ribbon, a strange uneasiness stirred in the pit of her stomach.
Where was the Christmas Calendar?
The fire crackled and sparked, startling Cassie and drawing her attention.
Her hand flew to her throat.
Singed fragments of plaid fabric and blackened bits of paper wafted up the chimney in a cloud of smoke.
Along with Cassie’s hopes for the future.
