Part of me wants to ask Fred to pass along a message from us, but I’ve never met Dean. That would be weird, wouldn’t it? I’m not sure, so I just end up saying, “Have a great time with your family,” when he drops me off at my house.
“Will do,” Fred says, lips curving up.
Jack squeezes my knee before I hop out of the truck. “Talk to you later.”
I agree and let them go, not wanting to make Fred feel more nervous about timing than he already does. Jack has a dentist appointment in an hour. I could go to his house and just hang out there while he’s gone, but I could really use the evening to myself. I need to keep working on his gift, but also? I’m expecting a phone call from my parents.
I go inside and grab a snack, then head straight to my piano to warm up. Uncle Remington appears in the doorway when I play one of the traditional pieces he loves. I feel him watching me, but he doesn’t say anything until I’ve finished the song.
“It’s difficult to stay away when you play like that,” he says.
“I didn’t know you were listening.”
He doesn’t move from the doorway. “As I said, hard not to when you play decent music. Easier when you switch to modern garbage.”
I stay like that, glancing at him over my shoulder until he realizes I won’t play more with him standing there. He clearshis throat and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Not a bad interaction, overall.
I don’t let it bother me, play another piece to warm myself up, and continue where I left off on Saturday with my project for Jack. Before I know it I’m almost done with the main melody. And a few hours have passed.
Mom had asked if we could reschedule our phone call from last Friday to today, but I’m still surprised when it rings at six o’clock and shows her caller ID. I thought it would be Jack first.
“Elliot?”
“Hi, Mom.”
I can’t hear any background noise on her end. Maybe this is the one night a week she and my dad stay in. More likely she’s stepped away somewhere.
“Hi sweetheart. I’m sorry I had to push our call back a few days.”
“It’s fine. I know it’s a busy time of year.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
My heart constricts, just a fraction. I’ve been expecting this. It still hurts. “You’re not coming for Christmas.”
“No, I’m not. But I’m hoping you’ll come spend Christmas with us.”
I suck in a breath. “What?”
“We’re still in New York City,” Mom says. “We’re staying here through New Year's, and we thought you might fly out to spend your break with us.”
My voice fails me. If I’d gotten this offer last year, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. Now . . . part of me is tempted, but not all. Going means giving up my week with Jack, and Seth and Fred. Not meeting Jack’s cousins. Missing Mrs. Benson’s Christmas feast.
Going means seeing my parents, but not really seeing them. If they can’t come, my mom has a party or something tophotograph. Probably a week’s worth of events. We might eat a few meals together, but I doubt I’ll spend real time with them.
“Sorry, Mom,” I say when I get my voice working. “I have plans with Jack and his family.”
She’s silent for several seconds that feel twice as long as they are.
“I’m glad you asked, though,” I say, slightly quieter. “It means a lot.”
She breathes out sharply. “I promised I would try to do better. I know I’m already falling short, but—”
“Mom,” I interrupt. I close my eyes. “I love you.”
She sighs. “I love you too, Elliot. So does your father. We’ll talk to you over Christmas, okay?”
“That’ll be great.”
