Page 20 of Terms and Traditions

With one final scan to triple-check I hadn't forgotten something, I stepped out into the open concept of the cubicles, which were decked in garland and leftover lights from the party last week, ready to embrace the holiday madness. The office was already deserted, and I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty that I hadn’t said goodbye to anyone. They hadn’t made an effort to say goodbye to me either, and the platter of gingerbread men I’d had delivered at lunch would suffice.

My cell vibrated as I started down the hall towards the elevators, and I smiled at the caller ID. It was my sister-in-law, Ivy. “Hey, hey, hey, Ives!”

“It’s Jackson, Auntie Steph!” a young boy’s voice corrected.

I laughed. “Does your mother know you’re calling me?”

“Yes. I only have five minutes, though.”

“You guys already on the road?” I checked my watch. It was just after six.

There was a scuffle in the background, then Jackson replied, “Yup. Dad said we just passed Mesquite. We’re almost in Arizona.”

“Making good time,” I teased. It was a long trek from San Diego to Jackson, Wyoming, with four kids. As much as I loved my nieces and nephews, I didn’t envy Gabe and Ivy those fifteen hours in the car. “What can I do for you, kiddo?”

“Did you see the game last night? It was amazing! Cal Satterfield nailed that goal in the third period. Did you really see him at Thanksgiving?”

I should have expected this. Jackson was obsessed with Idaho’s Caldwell Chargers, a prominent AHL team in the hockey world, particularly with their right defender, Cal Satterfield, who just happened to be the older brother of my best friend, Juliet. Anytime Jackson called me, it was usually related to hockey and to ask if I’d had any new encounters with his hero. Cal was a great guy, no doubt about it, and great role model material. But I was an honorary little sister and thus not obligated to think he hung the moon like most of his fans.

“Yes, I really did. No, I did not sit beside him, but he played Settlers of Catan with the girls and me.” I winced at the deafening screech of excitement.

There was a scuffle and then a different bright voice came over the line—this one decidedly not Jackson. “Hi, Auntie Steph! I just finished my dishcloth! There’s a few holes, but I did what you said and kept going.”

I smiled at my niece Ava’s enthusiasm. The last time I’d seen her, I’d gotten her started on knitting dishcloths. Nice and easy for a beginner. “That’s great, lovey! Did you start something else?”

“Yup, I’m making a scarf with some Christmas yarn Daddy got me.”

That sounded very much like my older brother—big strong Marine but a total softie for his girls—but before I could get another word in, another scuffle crackled the line, and I yanked the phone away from my ear with a wince. It sounded like it was clanging through a rock tumbler.

“Ava, it’s my turn to talk to Auntie Steph!” from a disgruntled Jackson.

“But I needed to tell her about my scarf!”

“Ava, hand the phone back to your brother and ask permission next time.” That no-nonsense mom voice was impossible to mistake for anyone but Ivy.

“Bye, Auntie Steph,” Ava grumbled.

“Bye, sweetie.” Not gonna lie, it was pretty sweet to have them argue over me.

“Sorry,” Jackson apologized, when the phone was back in his possession. “Dad said next time the Chargers play in San Diego he might take me to see them!”

“That’s great, kiddo!” What he didn’t know was that his Christmas gift from me was tickets to one of Cal’s home games in Caldwell right after Christmas. “Listen, I gotta run. Last-minute Christmas stuff is calling. But I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.”

“Love you, Jack-Jack.”

He groaned at the nickname like any ten-year-old boy would but rattled off a goodbye and “love you too” before hanging up.

I pressed the down button on the elevator and waited for it to arrive. Mentally, I sorted through the remainder of my to-do list. Packed? Check. Food? Mostly check. Text Nana about the room? Eh... I’d chickened out about that so far. If I told her right now I had a boyfriend, she’d have questions. Dropping it on her felt more doable. But about the room… There was no way Nash and I were sharing. We were not one-bed troping our way through this fake relationship. No way.

I pulled out my phone before my courage died.

ME

Hey, Nana! I know it’s last minute, but I’m bringing a friend for Christmas, and they need an extra room. Can you swing that?

No three little dots appeared telling me she was typing back. I sighed and slipped the device back into my purse as the elevator chimed, the doors whooshing open.