“An irresponsible amount.”
She smiled.
Behind her, Mom said, “Wonderful. So you are staying.”
I stood.
“No.”
Her smile vanished.
“I’ll spend time with everyone. I’ll sleep somewhere else.”
“You are humiliating us.”
That stopped me.
“Who exactly is watching?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t.”
Her voice dropped.
“Your father paid a fortune for this place.”
“I didn’t ask him to.”
“He wanted one perfect Christmas before we moved.”
“Then why wasn’t I included in the perfect part?”
She stared at me.
For a second, something flickered in her face.
Not anger.
Fear.
Then it disappeared.
“You always make things about yourself.”
I felt something inside me go cold.
“Interesting thing to say to the only adult who wasn’t invited to dinner.”
I drove into Galena twenty minutes later.
The hotel was expensive and nearly full.
I booked the last available room.
When I returned to the farmhouse, the atmosphere had shifted.
Lauren was upstairs unpacking.
Chris was outside with the children.
Dad was building a fire.
Mom was standing at the kitchen counter shredding cheese with unnecessary violence.
I carried my suitcase upstairs.
A closed door near the end of the hallway had a handwritten paper taped to it.
**DAD — PLEASE KEEP OUT**
I stared.
“Dad’s office,” Mom called from downstairs.
Something about her timing bothered me.
I turned the knob.
Locked.
I went back down.
“You lock an office in a rental house?”
Dad’s head lifted sharply.
Mom answered first.
“Your father has financial papers in there.”
“What financial papers?”
“Private ones.”
Dad gave me a warning look.
“Leave it, Jenna.”
I did.
At first.
Christmas Eve dinner became a battlefield disguised as appetizers.
Mom canceled the resort reservation after Lauren refused to go without me.
That should have fixed things.
Instead, Mom spent the evening letting everyone know what I had ruined.
“These scallops would have been wonderful.”
“The resort decor is supposed to be beautiful.”
“We lose the deposit, of course.”
Dad finally said, “Enough, Diane.”
That shocked all of us.
Mom stared at him.
He stared into the fire.
The children sensed the tension.
Ava became unusually quiet.
Noah asked twice if Christmas was canceled.
Ben cried because his carrot touched gravy.
So I did what I always did.
I helped.
Not because I had been assigned.
Because I chose to.
I made hot chocolate.
We built a blanket fort.
Chris opened wine.
Lauren cornered me in the pantry.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t make the schedule.”
“I should have questioned it.”
“You thought I volunteered.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“I think Mom has been doing this longer than I realized.”
“What do you mean?”
Lauren glanced toward the kitchen.
“She tells me you offered things.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What things?”
“The urgent care trip.”
“No. You called me.”
She frowned.
“I called because Mom said you’d already told her you were free.”
I stared at her.
“The basement flood?”
“Same.”
“No.”
Her face changed.
“Jen.”
“I had theater tickets that night.”
“You told me you didn’t.”
“Because when you called, you sounded panicked.”
Lauren covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
Memories began rearranging themselves.
Birthdays.
Airport pickups.
School events.
Family lunches.
All the moments I had thought Lauren was assuming too much.
Maybe she had been.
But maybe someone else had been building the assumption first.
“Why?” Lauren whispered.
I looked toward Mom.
“I have no idea.”
Christmas morning began at 5:46.
Ben woke screaming because he couldn’t find the stuffed dinosaur he had thrown behind the bunk bed.
I knew because my hotel phone rang.
Lauren.
“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “He’s asking for you.”
I laughed despite myself.
“Put him on.”
“Aunt Jenna!” Ben sobbed.
“Morning, criminal.”
“My dinosaur is dead.”
“Probably not.”
“He’s gone forever.”
“Check behind the bunk bed.”
Silence.
Then a gasp.
“You’re magic.”
“Correct.”
I drove back to the farmhouse at seven.
The snow had thickened overnight.
Everything looked clean.
Untouched.
False.
Inside, Dad was making pancakes.
Mom wasn’t downstairs.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Dad flipped a pancake.
“Shower.”
He looked exhausted.
I poured coffee.
“Dad.”
He kept cooking.
“Why is that upstairs room locked?”
His hand stopped.
Then continued.
“I told you. Papers.”
“What papers?”
“Jenna.”
“Lauren says Mom has been telling her for years that I volunteer for things I never volunteered for.”
He turned off the burner.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said quietly, “Your mother worries.”
“About what?”
He looked toward the staircase.
“Being needed.”
That answer made no sense.
Before I could ask more, footsteps sounded above us.
Mom appeared.
Fully dressed.
Makeup done.
Pearl earrings.
At seven fifteen in the morning.
“Everyone needs to be ready by eight,” she announced.
Lauren looked up from cutting pancakes for Ben.
“Ready for what?”
“The appointment.”
My skin prickled.
“What appointment?”
Mom froze.
Dad closed his eyes.
Lauren said, “What appointment?”
Mom looked at Dad.
Then at me.
“It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Nobody spoke.
