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She kissed Elizabeths cheek. "Hi, Mom. You look tired. Wheres Dad?"
Elizabeth laughed. "Thanks, honey. Your dad had to stay behind for a day. Some big story. "
"Gee, what a shock. " Jamie barely paused for a breath and started talking again. "Could they put more seats in that plane? I mean, really. When the guy in front of me leaned back, my tray dropped down and almost snapped my jaw off. And you have to be Calista Flockhart to get out of your seat. "
Jamie was still talking when they pulled up to the house.
Daddy and Anita must have heard the car drive up (theyd probably been standing at the window for the last thirty minutes, waiting impatiently); they were already on the porch, holding hands, grinning.
Jamie bounded out of the car, hair flying, arms outstretched. She launched into her grandfathers open arms.
Elizabeth and Stephanie gathered the bags together and followed her.
"Stephie," Anita said, teary-eyed, taking her granddaughter in her arms.
After a quick round of hello-we-missed-you-how-was-your-flight? they all went inside.
The house smelled like Christmas; fresh-cut evergreen boughs draped the mantel and corkscrewed up the banisters; the cinnamony scent of newly baked pumpkin pies lingered in the air. On every table, vanilla-scented candles burned in cut crystal votive containers. There were artifacts of the girls childhoods everywhere--clay Christmas trees that leaned like the Tower of Pisa, papier-mache snowmen covered in glitter and acrylic paint, egg cartons cut into nativity sets.
They spent the rest of the day talking and playing cards, wrapping presents and shaking the packages already under the tree. By midafternoon, Stephanie and Anita had disappeared into the kitchen to make homemade dressing and a bake-ahead vegetable casserole.
Elizabeth stayed in the living room, playing poker for toothpicks with Jamie and Daddy.
"So, missy," Daddy said, puffing on his pipe as he studied his cards. "Howre things at Georgetown?"
Jamie shrugged. "Hard. "
That surprised Elizabeth. Jamie never admitted that anything was difficult, not this child who wanted to climb Everest and publish haiku and swim in the Olympics.
"Jamie?" she said, frowning. "Whats wrong at school?"
"Dont lapse into melodrama, Mom. Its just a tough quarter, thats all. "
"Hows Eric?"
"That is so over. I dumped him two weeks ago. "
"Oh. " Elizabeth felt oddly adrift suddenly, unconnected. Once shed known every nuance in her daughters lives; now boyfriends appeared and disappeared without warning. In the other room, the phone rang and was answered. "Are you seeing anyone else?"
"Hells bells, Birdie. Who gives a rats hindquarters about boys? Hows the swimming, thats what matters. Are we gonna get seats to see you at the next Olympics?"
Jamie had vowed to win Olympic Gold when she was eleven years old. The day shed won her first race at the Ray Ember Memorial Pool.
"Of course," she answered, smiling brightly.
But there was something wrong with that smile, something off. Before Elizabeth could say anything, Anita walked into the room, heels clacking on the floor. She was holding the cordless phone to her ample breast.
"Birdie, honey, its Jack. "
Elizabeth knew instantly: bad news.
Elizabeth hadnt slept well. All night, shed tossed and turned on h
er side of the bed. Finally, at about five a. m. , she gave up, got dressed, and went downstairs.
Jack hadnt been able to get away yesterday.
Of course he hadnt. Something important had come up. The video, honey, its first rate, but blah, blah, blah. Ill be there tomorrow night. I promise.
