I do a spin and make a show of turning off the lights, then peel the sweater off and toss it at Jack. I fix my T-shirt and shake my head at Jack. “Like I said, Happy Christmas Eve. I’m never wearing it again.”
Mrs. Benson is still laughing. “Oh, you boys certainly keep things entertaining.”
“What did you do to Mom?” Janet asks, walking in with a steaming mug and sitting down.
“Looks like you have to wear it one more time,” Jack says.
I sit down next to him. “Nope.”
Mrs. Benson tries to explain about the ugly sweater but keeps laughing as she does, so Jack holds it up and turns it on. Janet cringes and sips from her mug.
“How’s giving up coffee going?” Jack asks innocently.
Janet breathes in deeply. “I decided my sanity is more important.”
Three hard raps sound on the door, and it opens in the ensuing seconds, Uncle Henry entering singing “Jingle Bells” in a loud voice. Mrs. Benson looks at Janet. “Better brew another pot.”
“No music going, Lilah?” Uncle Henry asks.
She points toward the TV, which shows her Pandora playlist running, and the sound seems to hit his ears.
“Ah. Didn’t hear it.”
“No wonder with you bellowing carols—after inviting yourself in,” Aunt May says.
“We’re family! We’re always invited.”
Mrs. Benson chuckles. “He’s right, May.”
The rest of the family appears, filling the space. Uncle Henry rolls up his shirtsleeves and claps his hands together. “Time to make a holiday feast! Jack, Eli, Janet, Georgia, report to the kitchen!”
“Me too!” Hugh says.
Aunt May crouches next to him. “If you help them you won’t be able to do a craft with Diana.”
His eyes dart from the kitchen to Aunt May, and settle on her. “Craft with Diana.”
“What kind of craft is she doing with two toddlers?” I ask as we troop into the kitchen.
“Probably Christmas cards with markers and stickers,” Jack says. “We’ll help them with gingerbread houses later.”
“You really pull out all the stops at Christmas, huh?”
Jack brushes against my side as we stand at the counter and wait for instructions from his uncle, who’s launched into another verse of “Jingle Bells” in the ten second walk from the living room. Georgia, Jack’s youngest, quietest cousin, joins her father, then Janet. I peek at Jack and add my own voice a heartbeat before he does.
Delight brightens his smile to an incandescent glow.
Jack’s Uncle Henry isthe uncle I wish I had. He’s warm and outgoing and one look shows you how much he cares. His oldest daughter and his sons apparently don’t care to help with the brunch, but we have a great time—and we make sure to clean the mess before Mrs. Benson can see it. We make cinnamon pancakes and eggs and ham steaks, French toast and sliced fruit and, surprisingly, chicken tenders and fries (“it isn’t brunch if wedon’t have something that passes for lunch food,” Uncle Henry says).
We cram in the dining room and eat and talk, and the afternoon is spent making gingerbread houses and watchingTheGrinch. Jack and I steal away for a bit after that, when Hannah, Jared, and Diana go back to their hotel so Diana can nap in peace and the family quiets, the cousins on their phones or outside, the adults talking over late afternoon cups of coffee.
The air is cold and clear and invigorating as Jack and I walk aimlessly. It gives me the courage to say something that’s been my mind all morning.
“I think your cousin Grant is ignoring you because I’m here.”
I’ve noticed him giving Jack looks that border on scowls a few times, though he hasn’t said anything. Jack stops walking. “I haven’t noticed anything different than last year. He’s never had much to do with me. And before you say anything about wanting to leave—”
“I don’t,” I interrupt. He closes his mouth, and I continue. “I just don’t want things to fester and pop later, like with my family at Thanksgiving. I don’t want to cause any trouble for you or your family.”
