Page 43 of Wishing for Christmas
Clara knew this was an entirely different situation. She could tell Brent genuinely wanted her to get to know his family. Besides, she supposed it was a necessary step. If this Christmas magic thing was going to work out, they’d be her in-laws before long.
Brent turned to her with a playful grin. “I should warn you, there are a lot of McNallys in there, including some honorary ones. And they are all excited to meet you.”
“Can’t wait,” she said through gritted teeth.
Under normal circumstances, she would be excited to be there. But these were not normal circumstances. She was still getting used to the fact that life had gone on without her for an entire year. Every conversation seemed to serve as a cruel reminder of that. She was tired of constantly feeling as if she was in the dark about everything.
Brent stood beside her, his hand on her back for support. They both wore the gaudiest Christmas clothes they could find. He’d told her that the typical attire for his parents’ annual party was Christmas tacky. They’d had fun shopping online for their outfits together. Clara had picked out a colorful dress with a battery-operated wreath. He chose a sweater with a pom-pom-nosed reindeer on it.
Clara shook off her nerves with a shudder and decided to focus on the positives. This was an exciting moment in their relationship—a huge step forward for them.
“Clara! Brent!” Mrs McNally, Christine, answered the door with a warm smile. She had shoulder-length, sandy blonde hair and a pair of dimples that looked exactly like Brent’s. She wore a Christmas vest with so much festive bling going on that Clara wasn’t sure where to look. “It’s so nice to have you here.” She held the door open for them to enter.
Brent’s dad, Hank, stood just inside the hallway. He was a tall man with a full head of gray hair and a vest to match his wife’s.
They stepped inside. Clara’s mouth popped open, and her eyes brightened. The house smelled incredible, as if someone had been cooking all day. She handed the cake to Brent’s mom, somewhat distracted by the music and laughter coming from the next room.
“It’s so nice to meet you both,” she blurted out before she could even think. She clapped her hand over her mouth, willing the words back in.
She still hadn’t been sure, especially after Lily’s comment. Asking Brent hadn’t been an option. Even with the two-hour car ride out to their house, she couldn’t seem to come up with a way to ask, “So have I met your parents before?” without sounding like a total lunatic. Between the distance and the fact that he’d been gone, Clara figured the odds they had met were pretty low. Judging by the looks on their faces now, she had figured wrong. Her face began to flush as she realized one thing: This wasn’t their first meeting.
Clara felt her shoulders slump. There was that feeling again. It was a combination of frustration, confusion, and shame—an emotion that was becoming way too familiar to her now. She had just arrived, and already she was steeped in humiliation.
She lowered her eyes to the floor, feeling ridiculous as she watched the blinking lights from her dress pulse through her coat. She wished she was wearing an outfit more her style. None of this was her, and she was tempted to shout it out loud for everyone to hear. The dress only made her feel more like a phony than she already did.
“Well, let me take your coats,” Christine said, glossing over her comment. “It’s so nice to see you for some holiday fun, Clara, as opposed to the circumstances last time.”
Clara took off her coat and tugged at her dress. “Yes, I agree,” she said. “So, so much better.” She heard the crack in her voice.
Hank gave her a kind smile and stuck his hands in his pockets.
Clara cleared her throat. “So much better that I feel like this is the first time we’re meeting.” She cringed as soon as she heard the words leave her mouth. She avoided Brent’s eyes. Whatwerethe circumstances last time they met?
Entering the house, Clara was blinded by the tinsel, lights, and loudness of the annual McNally Christmas party. Dozens of friends, relatives, and neighbors had all descended upon the household in their tackiest gear. Everyone seemed to be in a festive mood. Music played, and the drinks flowed.
The large open kitchen appeared to be the hub of the party, and Brent immediately led her over. It was brightly lit and packed with people. Clara squinted through the crowd to peek at everything up close. The countertops were heavy under the weight of some of the most delicious-looking food she had ever laid eyes on. There was a giant veggie tray shaped like a Christmas tree. Dozens of cheese balls sat alongside an array of crackers and nuts. Sweet-smelling loaves of fruitcake were already sliced. There was a baked ham with pineapples on top and side dishes of green bean casserole and candied sweet potatoes. It was so different from the upscale menu of prime rib and beef wellington she’d been serving at the Darlington all month. It was perfect. On the kitchen table sat a punch bowl of eggnog covered in a fat layer of frothy foam.
They each ladled a glass and headed to the living room. A wood-burning fireplace warmed the space, and a Christmas tree glowed brightly from the corner. Clara put a hand to her chest, admiring the idyllic scene. It reminded her of the Christmases growing up in her house, back when her parents would throw a party for all their friends and neighbors every Christmas Eve. She felt a thickness build in her throat as she thought about theChristmases of her childhood. She closed her eyes and took a moment to miss her family. Her eyes prickled.
She drew in a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs before gradually letting it out. She let the feeling give way to an appreciation for being exactly where she was—with Brent and his family. Clara liked the feeling that his family reminded her of her own, and she was happy to be starting new traditions—and memories—with him.
She hadn’t felt it much over the past few days, but here was that feeling again, both welcome and familiar—the simple joy of Christmas.
A handsome, silver-haired man played a piano in the center of the living room. Guests sipped on cocktails and sang along. Clara wondered if she’d met any of these people over the past year. She had no idea how to keep it all straight or how she could possibly know what to say without seeming like an idiot again.
Clara looked over at Brent and watched his dimples deepen. She made a decision to shrug off her worry and instead simply enjoy the evening. She’d follow his lead. She snuggled in close to him as he welcomed her into the living room.
Christine came around with a platter of cookies, and Clara helped herself to one. She grabbed a gingersnap for Brent, remembering this tidbit from the game at the squadron’s party. She loved that she now knew his favorite Christmas dessert. See? Christmas was bringing them closer together already.
They approached the piano, where the charming man played a tune while simultaneously engaged in a boisterous conversation.
“Clara, this is my uncle Pete.” Brent clapped Pete on the back, then he greeted the others gathered around with hugs and handshakes. He introduced Clara to the group.
“Nice to meet you, Clara. Do you have any requests?” Pete asked.
She thought for a second. “Well, I’ve become particularly fond of Elvis these days.” She winked at Brent.
She chalked up the huge smile he threw back at her as a further win. It was another thing she had in common with him—the song “Blue Christmas.” She still didn’t understand why, but that song seemed to be important to him in some way. Maybe she was finally beginning to catch on to some of the shared memories, even if it was from something as dumb as a ringtone. Although Clara had to admit, after the dance they’d shared at the party, she definitely liked that song now too.
