Page 86 of Grace & Henry's Holiday Movie Marathon
“Thanks. Oh, and I like your glasses, too. I didn’t say that before. They’re really cool.”
She thanks him, then tracks her driver on her phone as she scratches the dog’s left ear.
“Is it okay if I pause the movie?” Bella asks.
“Sure,” I say. “You good?”
Bella taps the remote and heads for the stairs. “Yeah, I just gotta go to the bathroom.”
Ian is working on the top of the image now, and he’s nailing the subtle differences between the “real” decorations and their distorted reflections below. I match his brushstrokes on my canvas, basically just copying him. He’s better at this than I imagined he’d be.
Meredith stands, shoos Harry Styles to the floor. “Three minutes out,” she says.
“Oh, okay, cool,” I say.
I prepare to apologize again, but then Bella shouts from the bathroom. “Henry! Hennnnnryyyyy!”
I go to the bottom of the stairs. “What’s up, Bella?”
“Can you come up here?”
“Um.”
Ian looks up from his canvas. “She needs you to help her wipe.”
“She what?”
“Mom or Miss Nadine always does it, but…”
I look at Meredith, who’s putting on her coat. I hijacked our evening and made her watch half ofHome Aloneat a virtual stranger’s house while I painted with a kid. I think asking her to go upstairs now and help a little girl in the bathroom is perhaps a bridge too far. I don’t have to ask, though, because Meredith is a kind person.
“I’ll be right back,” she says.
As Meredith climbs the stairs, Ian says, “Do you think Bella would be mad if I started the movie again?”
“Yeah, maybe hold off on that for a sec, buddy.”
Upstairs, I hear Meredith talking to Bella through the bathroom door. I can’t make out exactly what she’s saying, but her voice is gentle, and the bathroom door opens and closes. A moment later, it opens again, and she and Bella return. Bella sits back in her spot and hits Play.
Meredith zips her coat and puts her hat on, checks her phone again. “It was nice meeting you guys,” she tells the kids.
“You, too,” they say.
She wishes Ian good luck with his painting, then I follow her outthe door, catching her on the stone walk. It’s not flurrying anymore, but it’s colder now than before. “Meredith, I’m really sorry.”
She stops at the door of a Ford Explorer. “I know you are, Henry,” she says.
The driver rolls the window down, asks if Meredith is Meredith.
“I’ll make it up to you, okay?” I say. “The Bluebird. Maybe tomorrow? They do this drink called a Reindeer Sled every hol—”
“Listen,” she says, stopping me. Her glasses have gone foggy again, so she takes them off and puts them in her coat pocket. “You’re a sweet guy, Henry. The fact that we’re here in the first place demonstrates that, I guess. But you clearly don’t fully grasp what’s going on. Either that or maybe you’re just stupid.”
She looks back at Grace’s house, so I do, too. Harry Styles watches us from the front window. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you and this Grace woman, exactly, or who she is to you. But, seeing you tonight in that house, with those kids…and that little dog. Whether you like it or not, Henry, you’re part of that family.”
I start to say something but I’m not even sure what.
