Page 10 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

“Please, you sound like your father now.” Jane stood, carrying her teacup and dish to the sink, where she rinsed and re-rinsed the china.

“Speaking of Dad . . .” Olivia decided to just bite the bullet. “He invited Malcolm to stay in our guest room tonight. He wanted me to tell you.”

Jane spun around with a dropped jaw. “What—”

“Speak of the devil,” Olivia interrupted. “That sounds like them now.” She eagerly stood and went out to greet them, giving her father a warning glance. “I just told Mom to expect a guest.” She smiled at Malcolm, noticing a bundle under his arm. “I see you brought some overnight things. How about I show you the guest room.” Tugging his elbow, she led him upstairs, trying to ignore the sound of her parents’ voices downstairs. Not that they were loud, but she could hear the sharpness in Mom’s tone and the defensiveness in Dad’s. Thankfully, Malcolm looked oblivious. Or maybe he was just being polite.

“I’ve never been up here before.” Malcolm looked around the immaculate guest room, recently redecorated in shades of creamy white and pale green. “Pretty room.” He set his bundle on a chair.

“Uh-huh.” She nervously pretended to level a pastel floral painting that was already perfectly straight.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem uneasy.”

“Well, you know.” She turned to face him. “My mom . . . she can be . . .”

“A little difficult.” His smile looked slightly stiff. “Believe me, I know, Olivia. Maybe it’s not a good idea for me to be here. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor at my house.”

She felt a surge of fresh resolve. “No, my dad is absolutely right. This is his house, too, and he invited you. And it’s my home.” She smoothed a hand over the creamy white down comforter, knowing her mother always chose the very best. “And I know for a fact this is a very comfortable bed. My mother would never settle for anything less.” Even in her guest room. Not that she practiced much hospitality. Her mom’s obsession over perfection had always scared off visitors. Olivia bit her lip in frustration, imagining all that could go wrong with Malcolm’s overnight visit, and how her mother could scare him off too.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, as if reading her thoughts. “I’ll be on my best behavior.” He pursed his lips. “Although I gotta admit, all these light-colored furnishings and linens do make me a little nervous. I promise not to put my dirty feet on anything.” He chuckled, but she suspected he wasn’t kidding, and as they went downstairs, where her parents were now actually arguing, Malcolm excused himself to go back to his house.

“I promised my siblings that I’d play some new trivia game with them. I used to win at Trivial Pursuit, and apparently my sister Jocelyn wants to challenge me.” He looked at Olivia. “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

Olivia glanced at her mother and, seeing a frown of disapproval, she thanked him and declined, promising to leave the door unlocked for him. But when Malcolm left, she wished she was with him. She would’ve preferred sleeping on a floor over there over the most comfortable bed in her parents’ home.

***

After a restless night’s sleep, Olivia got up early and dressed. But before leaving her old bedroom, she neatly put everything back into place. No point in rocking Mom’s boat any more than necessary. As she made her bed, she tried not to replay last night’s conversation—make that inquisition—with her mom. Dad had wisely retired early, but he’d still been clearly upset by his wife’s unreasonable behavior. Olivia had been too. But she’d tried to reason with her mom, even suggesting she might need professional help. But that just made everything worse, until Olivia had to excuse herself to bed too. She didn’t hear Malcolm sneaking quietly into the house until close to midnight, but after he got safely to his room, she went down to check the door and turn out the lights. Didn’t want to leave anything for Mom to complain about the next day.

The house still seemed quiet as she crept down the stairs, but unless it was hopeful imagining, she smelled coffee coming from the kitchen. And since her mom avoided caffeine, Olivia suspected her dad was up early.

“Good morning,” she said quietly from behind him, making him jump.

“Oh, it’s you.” He smiled. “Thought it was your mom.”

“I kept her up pretty late last night,” she confessed. “Hopefully she’s sleeping in.”

“Hopefully.” His smile faded. “Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, she didn’t sleep too well last night. Tossed and turned into the wee hours.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“This is not your fault, Olivia.” He looked intently into her eyes. “Your mother’s . . . preferences have gotten more and more extreme, and I’m the one who invited Malcolm.”

“I know. But just the fact that I’m dating Malcolm is so hard on her. It’s almost as if she thinks I purposely did this to upset her.”

He nodded. “Uh-huh. Seems par for the course.” He reached for the coffee pot. “Want some high-octane joe?”

“Absolutely.” She went to fridge to look for cream and settled for 2 percent milk. “Mom must still be on her no-fat kick. Doesn’t she know that some fats are good for us?”

“You’re welcome to tell her. But maybe you want to pick your battles.” He handed her a steaming mug and then led her to his den, closing the door behind them.

She sunk into one of his oversized sofas—in her opinion, the only comfortable seating in their home. “Oh, Dad, what am I going to do if this gets even more serious with Malcolm and me?”

“And you’re hoping it will?”

She simply nodded, then sipped her coffee, watching his expression change from concern to what almost looked like hopefulness.

“Well,” he said slowly, “you and Malcolm in a serious relationship . . . it might be just what your mother needs.”