Page 36 of Decking the Halls
“It’s Christmas—”
“And you’re not welcome if you can’t be civil.” Dad’s tone leaves no room for argument. “Your sister’s found happiness. Either accept that or leave.”
Nick looks between us all, his expression slipping between anger and disbelief. “Fine. Choose her. But when this burns out in a week…”
“It won’t,” I say. “Because I know what I have.”
“Besides,” my mother interrupts, “so what if it does? I’d rather have my kids feel passion in their dang lives and make mistakes that way instead of curating a freakin’ experience for some silly career!”
He mutters something, grabs his coat, and storms out. The front door slams hard enough to shake the ornaments on the wreath hanging on the front.
For a long moment, no one speaks. Then, Mom sighs, tugging her apron straighter. “Well,” she says, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Who wants some eggnog?”
She heads into the kitchen before anyone can respond. When my mom decides it’s time for alcohol, by God, we’re drinking.
The rest of brunch feels… different. Still cautious, but lighter somehow. Dad asks about my shop, really listens this time, and even nods when I mention expanding into custom restorations. Mom and Edie talk about baking, swapping recipes, and laughing as they’ve done for years. Only now there’s this recognition in my mom’s expression. It’s like she no longer sees Edie as some high-schooler who has a hobby in baking, but a grown woman who will help carry on the family legacy one day. Who knows? We might even inherit this house, you know?
The sound fills the room. We’re warm and united, almost enough to drown out the early afternoon wind outside.
When we finally stand to leave, Mom pulls me aside near the front door. The faint smell of her Christmas candy perfume takes me out for a second before my nose adjusts.
“She really loves you?” she asks.
“She really does.”
“And you love her?”
“More than I ever thought I could.”
She nods, lips pressed together and shoulders squared. “Then don’t fuck it up.”
“Language, Mom.”
Laughing, she says, “Sometimes the situation calls for some swearing. Remember what I always said when you were a potty-mouthed sailor in this house?You have to mean it.Save those swears for when they truly add to the meaning of your words.” She maintains her grin even after the laughter dies down. “Be happy, Wren. That’s what every mother wants. To see her children happy and thriving.”
“Even Nick?
The corners of her mouth twitch. “Oh, sweetie, yes. I want that for your brother, too. I worry about him.”
The way she references him hits me in the gut. Right. He’s still as young as me, isn’t he? “I guess he’s doing his best. The way he understands the most.”
“He’ll figure it out. But now you both are adults. Your father and I can only do so much to guide you in the direction we think best now. And, as time goes by…” Finally, her shoulders sag. “It gets harder to know what’s best for your children. Maybe you’ll understand one day. I hear Edie loves kids, being a kindergarten teacher and all.”
Yes, I catch the giddy purse of my mom’s lips as she thinks about babies. “Maybe one day. I think Edie and I will just spend the next few years figuring that stuff out for ourselves.”
“Of course. Can’t ask for a little happy accident with two gals, now can we?”
“Mom. Accidents. Really?”
“What do you think you and your brother were? Do you think your father and I were planning ontwins?”
“I’m the youngest, so that makes me the accident.”
“No, for all I know, you developed first, sweetie.”
“Is that how it even works?”
“Would you get a move on?” She hurries me out the door, shooing me against the butt. I’m totally caught off guard as her hand smacks my jeans and her hair swishes in the humid air once we’re outside. “Show Edie the best Christmas she’s had since she was a little girl!”
