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“Cool,” Nicholas murmurs as Ava says, “That’s a shame you can’t be with your family.”
“It’s not too bad.Mason’s family is getting together at his new place just a short drive from here on Christmas day.They invited me over.I’ll probably go there just so I don’t look too pathetic.”
“Like mom looks every holiday,” Nicholas offers.
Ava’s face practically deflates.“Honey, I’d like to think I don’t lookpathetic.Besides, I like having a little time to myself.”
“You don’t,” he says with that lack of filter that comes with childhood.“You look so sad when we FaceTime.”
Her cheeks pale.“I do?”Then she gives herself a nearly imperceptible shake.“Well, then your spy-in-training senses aren’t working well on the holidays because actually I have a lot of fun.”
I take a long look at her, wondering whether Mason would mind if I brought someone along to their Christmas dinner.The idea of her here by herself just doesn’t seem right.
But then she adds, “Besides, I happen to have plans for Christmas dinner this year, and I’m looking forward to the fact that I don’t even have to cook.How about dessert?That looked like an incredible cake Harris brought.”
I have to agree with her there.I went to a little bakery just over Spa Creek in the Eastport side of Annapolis to pick it up.
When I offered to bring dessert, I thought of the place immediately, my go-to anytime I want baked goods because I can’t make a dessert to save my life.
The five-layer chocolate cake, sprinkled with chopped up candy canes, seems to fit right into a house that looks like a Christmas grenade exploded.
I glance around me as I stand, helping her clear the plates despite her assurances that help isn’t necessary.Around every door and window are thick garlands with a smattering of pinecones and tiny ornaments attached to them.
I spot two stockings hanging from the fireplace mantle in the nearby living room and imagine that one is for Ava.My parents never had stockings for themselves.With three kids in our family, it might have overloaded our mantle.
Their tree is packed with traditional shiny ornaments scattered among a plethora of homemade ones that I’m betting were brought home from Nicholas’s school over the years.
“Do you have a tree in your apartment?”Nicholas asks me when he sees me giving theirs a sidelong glance after I sit back down to take a bite of my dessert.
“No,” I answer.“Seems a waste to get one when you’re just on your own.”
“You should have a tree,” Nicholas replies gravely.“Where do you get gifts if they’re not under your tree?”
I eye him, wondering if he’s still in that Santa stage of life and choose a safe, vague reply.“I somehow manage.”
“You should at least get a small one.They sell them at the grocery store.They even come decorated.”His voice is intent.
“I’ve seen those.But if the government made me travel last-minute, I wouldn’t be around to water it.”
“I’ll water it,” he pipes up.
“Honey, you’re leaving for your dad’s.You won’t be around to water it,” his mom reminds him.
“Then you can water it, Mom.Heneedsa tree.”
Ava frowns.“My apologies for my son.He gets a little stubborn when bedtime is approaching.Which reminds me…” She taps her watch as though her son will immediately pick up on the message.
And apparently, he does.
“Aw, Mom.Can’t I stay up later?”
“Not tonight, honey.It was a busy day for you.Besides, your dad is going to pick you up early tomorrow morning.”
The dad.I make a promise to myself to not be peering out the tiny window of my basement apartment to get a glimpse of this guy.
“Hey, don’t worry, kid,” I say, noting the disappointment in his eyes that he has to go to bed.“I’ll see you next year.”
His face looks shocked.“I won’t see you fora year?”
