“Why don’t I take the kids into the playroom for a bit and let y’all have a minute?” Ellie says, scooting out her chair. At the mention of the wordplayroom, Noah and Emily bounce out of their seats and skip from the room.
Mom furrows her brow and opens her mouth to say something, but Willow beats her to it.
“I’ll come with you.” Willow jumps up to help Ellie clear their plates before following the trail of happy giggles.
“Is everything okay?” Mom clasps her hands below her chin.
For a second, I reconsider saying anything at all because it pains me to upset her. Maybe weshouldall grin and bear it another year.
No. Remember why you’re doing this.
“We’ve been thinking about Christmas,” I begin, keeping my voice casual. Perhaps if I make it sound like this isn’t a big deal, she won’t make it into one. “Now that Noah and Emily are a little older and they’re able to participate in the holiday more, we’d like to start some new traditions.”
“Oh?” Mom’s face draws back as though she’s been slapped. “Like what?”
Ben gives me a nod of encouragement.
“We’d like to have Christmas at Ben and Ellie’s,” I answer. “We want the kids to have some holiday memories in their own home, like we do here.”
Her frown lines deepen. “And you’reallon board with this?”
Lucy’s smile falters.
Mom purses her lips. “But they’ve only ever known Christmashere.We’ve always had it at our house. It was your father’s favorite holiday.”
Her eyes turn glassy, and Lucy shoots me a panicked glance.
“It’s ours too,” I say. “Because of you and Dad. You made every holiday so special. The house was always bursting at the seams with love because of you. We want the chance to create that same magic for the kids ourselves.”
“I don’t understand.” Mom’s voice breaks, sending a hairline fracture down the middle of my heart. “What have I done wrong?”
“You haven’t done anything wrong.” I reach across the table and touch her arm. “You’ve done everythingright. You’ve given us everything. We just want the chance to do the same for them.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to let someone else steer the ship a while, Myra Jean?” Aunt Rose asks. “You’d get to sit back and enjoy all the fun parts of the holiday without any of the hassle.”
That’s apparently thewrongthing to say because Mom’s nostrils flare, and her hands ball into fists.
“I happen to love the ‘hassle,’ as you put it, Rose,” she says. “Thisisfun for me.”
“We know,” I assure her. “And we still want you there for every second. You could stay over so we can all still wake up in the same house. We can drink coffee while Noah and Emily open their presents from Santa. We can still wear matching pajamas if that’s what you want.”
Lucy holds up her hand. “Actually, do we have to?—”
Our mother’s mouth drops open, and I cut my sister off with a stern glare.
“I love the matching pajamas.” Lucy drops her hand and gives a faint smile. “They’re my favorite.”
Mom tosses her napkin on her plate. “You hate them. Just say it. You don’t like the way we celebrate Christmas. You want to change everything.”
Ben sighs. “That’s not what we’re saying at all.”
“We’d just like a chance to try things our way.” I attempt to squeeze her arm, but she yanks it away.
She shakes her head profusely. “This wasourholiday. Your father was the one who insisted on putting the lights up before the first of December.Hewanted to take the annual family photo on the porch in our matching pajamas, and he loved nothing more than sitting by the fire on Christmas Eve watching those damn TV movies we all love.”
Ben opens his mouth to speak, but I kick his shin under the table.
“He pretended to be surprised every time a big city girl inherited an inn or a goat farm or whatever it was before she moved to some small town in Colorado and fell in love on Christmas.” Mom’s hands move emphatically, punctuating her every word. “He did that for all of you, andthisis how you repay him?”
