“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I say. “Did she mention anything to you last night about needing to go somewhere this morning?”
She shakes her head.
“Where could she have gone?” Lucy asks, pressing her fingers to her lips.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to go look for—” Before I can finish my sentence, the front door clicks shut and we race to the foyer to find my mother hanging her coat in the closet.
“Where were you?” I demand, equal parts relieved and annoyed. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” she answers, as though that was the silliest question she’s ever heard.
“We tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail,” Ben adds.
Mom digs in her purse for her phone. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Looks like I forgot to turn it on.”
“You had us scared to death,” Ben says. “Where on earth did you go this early in the morning? And on Christmas, no less.”
Ellie touches his back. “The important thing is, she's okay.”
“This is entirely too much excitement this early in the morning,” Rose mutters.
“Where were you?” I ask again as she starts toward the kitchen with all of us on her heels.
“I just needed to run a quick errand,” she says.
Our voices collide in an accusatory chorus. “On Christmas?”
She drops her purse on the counter and her travel mug in the sink before grabbing one of the festive Christmas tree mugs out of the cabinet and filling it from the carafe.
“Yes,” she says, blowing a puff of air through her lips. “I went to see your father.”
Any frustration we’ve been feeling dissipates in an instant.
“Oh.” I frown, my heart sinking into my stomach. “I’m sorry, Mom. Are you okay?”
She nods and smiles, a peaceful expression smoothing the lines in her skin.
“I really am,” she says. “I feel great.”
Before we can press her any further, tiny footsteps come bounding down the steps.
“Mom!” Noah shouts as he and Emily barrel into the kitchen. “Dad! It’s Christmas!”
Emily flies into my brother’s leg. “Presents!”
“Not yet, Em. You know Grandma likes for us to have breakfast first,” he says. “Mom, do you mind if I put the French toast casserole in the oven?”
“Actually, I didn’t make one.” Mom clasps her hands together in front of her mouth, a playful glint in her eyes.
Lucy taps her forehead. “Am I dreaming? Are we in the twilight zone?”
“Very funny,” Mom says, wagging her finger. “I was thinking we’d do something different this year.”
The room is so quiet, I can hear myself blink.
“Mom, are you sure you’re okay?” Ben asks. “Do you need to lie down?”
“No, I don’t need to lie down,” she answers with a laugh. “I was thinking maybe we could make breakfast together as a family.”
