“Got other plans?” Grant asks, walking around me.
“Never mind,” Georgia tells him. “It’s none of your business.”
I send her an appreciative look and turn and walk back toward the fountain, my finger already on the call button.
“Merry Christmas, Elliot!” Mom says right when the call connects. Her voice is cheery. “How has your day been, sweetheart?”
I stroll around the park and tell her the highlights. An inkling of guilt drops down my spine as I realize it might sound like I don’t need them, and I trail off and say, “It would be a perfect holiday if I could see you guys, too, but I got to talk to you. I’m really glad you called today, like you said you would.”
Mom’s voice is unsteady. “Next year we’ll be home for Christmas.”
I stop walking. “I wasn’t trying to make you say that.”
“You’re not making me say anything I didn’t already plan. Next year, I’m not taking any jobs over Christmas. We’ll be home with you. I promise.”
I don’t know if I can trust it. That she called today is definitely a step in the right direction, though, and the part of me that desperately wants to trust it gains a bit of confidence. “That sounds good.” I start walking again and ask what she’s been up to, and hear about the dinners and receptions and parties she’s been attending all week and capturing with her photography.
“We’re ordering in for dinner tonight,” my father says. I blink, taken aback. I didn’t realize he was listening all this time, or that he was in the same room as my mother. “We’re in our suite now.” He sighs. “What I mean is, if you need anything, or want to talk again . . . we’re available the rest of tonight, no interruptions. We leave for Belize on New Year's Day.”
An open invitation to talk more, if I want to. I nudge a bit of snow with the toe of my boot. “Thanks.”
“If we don’t talk again today,” he says, awkwardness plain in his tone, “enjoy the rest of your holiday with the Bensons.”
“Tell them Merry Christmas from us,” Mom says.
“I can do that.”
“Love you, my darling boy,” Mom says.
“Goodbye, Elliot,” my father says.
“Love you too. Bye.”
I slide my phone into my back pocket and continue walking aimlessly while my thoughts churn over the conversation I just had. I shake my head when I realize I’m missing precious time with a different family that’s actually here, and set my course back to the Benson house.
My step is lighter than it was on the way to the park, impossible as that seems.
My parents called.
It’s small.
It’s ridiculous.
I know I have a hint of a smile anyway. I walk in and Jack’s eyes find me right away, scrutinizing me. He sees that upturn to my lips and the rigidity that had snapped his posture when he saw me, that fierce readiness to protect me if I needed it, floods out of him. Relief takes its place, and my smile grows. My loyal sunshine.
Whatever conversations had been taking place trickle into silence, most eyes flicking to me.
“My parents say Merry Christmas,” I announce.
Mrs. Benson lifts the almost empty container of cookies toward me and dips her head, reminding me of softening steel. Jack must have told her I was talking to them. I feel her approval from across the room, alongside her frustration with my parents, as she says, “Good.”
The Christmas feast Mrs.Benson prepares is so good I barely have room for dessert, but I power through, and I’m glad I do. I’d have missed out completely on her chocolate peppermint bundt cake if I hadn’t. Uncle Henry eats the sliver that’s left after everyone’s had some.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Eli,” he says when they’re about to leave that night. Their flight is early in the morning, so they’re saying goodbye to everyone now. “Keep making them smile, okay?”
He extends his hand, and I shake it warmly. “I’ll do my best.”
He laughs. “That’s all any of us can do.”
