“Of course, sweet pea.” I swallow the lump in my throat and slip out from beneath the blankets, following him toward the hall. When I pass my dresser, I run my hand over the top and sweep the broken angel wings into the trash.
“Mr. Napkins says he loves you,” Bug whispers when I climb into his bed.
“Tell Mr. Napkins I love him, too.”
Bug pulls my arm across his chest and scoots closer, and I bury my face against his soft blond hair, both of us finally drifting off to sleep.
I didn’t hear Mom come home last night, but when I hit the kitchen in the morning on a critical caffeine run, there she is, kneeling in her yellow bathrobe, the dusty bottoms of her slippers sticking out as she tucks two presents under the tree. In the light of the window, she looks young and untroubled, hair falling gently around her shoulders as she hums “The Little Drummer Boy.” When she sees me, the smile takes up her whole face, and she’s beautiful. It’s like the last few years haven’t happened yet—like I’m stuck in a dream with my own Ghost of Christmas Past, one last chance to see her and remember how things looked before everything changed.
She waves me over and pulls me into a hug, gray-blond hair clean and soft on my cheek. “Look in the tree outside. Do you see it?”
I follow the line of her finger out the window, across the tiny backyard. The snow is thick and unbroken, dazzling white, and from the branches of a sycamore, a red cardinal watches us, silent and majestic.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Mom wraps me in another hug, longer and tighter this time. For a moment I forget everything but what’s here, right now. The smell of her just-washed grapefruit hair. The red bird, keeping watch as the snow falls. The quiet of Christmas morning, our lives clean and crisp in the new dawn.
From the kitchen counter, Mom’s purse warbles suddenly, shattering the fragile peace. She practically trips over me to get to her purse, dumps the whole thing on the counter, locates her cell under a pile of makeup and receipts and loose change, and answers breathlessly as if she’d been waiting on that call her entire life.
While Mom chatters on, I sit beside the Charlie Brown tree and sip my coffee, staring out the window until my eyes water from the bright white intensity.
The cardinal is gone.
“Good news!” Mom clicks her phone shut and refills her coffee, joining me again on the living room floor. “That was Nat. Turns out her sister-in-law works for the Watonka Chamber of Commerce now. You know how they do that big New Year’s to-do for local business owners?”
I nod, still watching the snow fall.
“Nat scored me an invitation! Isn’t that great?”
“Totally.” I smile. “Especially if you like eating food on toothpicks and standing around with a bunch of old people in black clothes.”
Mom laughs and swats me with the tie from her bathrobe. “You don’t go for the food, hon. It’s a good opportunity to chat up the business, especially if they get news coverage. Channel Seven was there last year.”
I tug on an old Snoopy ornament dangling from one of the tree’s lower branches. Poor dog’s missing an ear. “Sounds fancy.”
“It is. Ooh, can I borrow that black dress? The one with the spaghetti straps?”
“The dress is no problem. But Bug might be.” I head to the kitchen for a coffee refill. “I already have plans for New Year’s.”
Mom follows me. “I thought Dani was going to Toronto.”
“For your information, I have a life outside Dani.”
Mom raises an eyebrow.
“I have a date. With a boy.”
“What boy?”
“A guy from my school. He asked me to dinner and a party.”
Mom sips her coffee, eyes darkening. “Hudson, we can’t find a sitter on such short notice. Not without paying a fortune.”
“What about Mrs. Ferris?”
“She’s got her grandson this week, and I don’t want to impose on her any more than we already do.”
“But you never go out on New Year’s, Ma.”
“This is important. Not just for me, but for the diner. For all of us.”
I slump into a kitchen chair. “That’s your excuse for everything.”
She sets her mug on the counter and pours herself a warm-up, draining the pot. “Who is he? That Josh boy from the diner? You didn’t even introduce him.”
My cheeks burn, but I don’t feel like explaining about Will and Josh and Abby, so I just nod. “I’ll introduce you next time. But we need to figure out what to do with Bug, because—”
“What to do with me?” Bug shuffles into the kitchen in his camouflage footie pajamas, his morning face all scrunched up and disoriented. His hair is completely flat on one side, totally spazzing out on the other, and his forehead is creased with diagonal sheet marks. Equally disheveled, Mr. Napkins rolls alongside him, fur dotted with hay, his plastic hamster ball bumping into the kitchen table at least three times before he disappears under a chair. “What to do with me for what?”
“What to do with you … for breakfast!” I grab Bug into a spinning hug, pretending to bite his neck. “Bug omelet special, today only! Nom nom nom!”
Mom joins in on the munching, and Bug squeals and giggles and finally squirms out of my arms.
He ducks behind the kitchen curtain and peeks out the window, the light illuminating his shape under the fabric.
“Holy tortellini, you guys,” he whispers. “I just remembered something important.”
“What’s that, buddy?” I ask.
“It’s Christmas!” He bursts out from behind the curtain and holds out his arms for a group hug, and Mom and I move in for the crush. Mom looks at me over the top of Bug’s fuzzy head and smiles, her eyes shiny with fresh tears. Behind his back, I lace my fingers through hers and squeeze.
And dear Mr. Napkins, as if he senses the weight of the moment, rolls out from under the chair and crashes into my leg.
“Merry Christmas,” I say. “Now let’s find a way to make this breakfast thing happen.”
“No Bug omelets,” my brother says.
“No. I’m cooking something special for you two.” Mom stands and dusts her hands together. “And after we eat, we’ll go outside and make a snowman.”
Bug cheers, and I dig out the marshmallows for hot chocolate, and even though Mom’s smiling and this is pretty much the best Christmas morning we’ve had since my father left, I can’t ignore the burn in my stomach when I think of New Year’s, the way my mother always expects me to be there whenever she needs me, whenever Bug needs me, no questions asked.
I set the bag of marshmallows on the counter and rinse out our coffee mugs, my heart sinking as I picture another night on the couch with Dick Clark, everyone else laughing and dancing and ringing in the New Year together at Amir’s.
Missing out on dinner with Will is one thing. But I have to find a way to get to that party.
Chapter Fourteen
Cupcakes with Benefits
Vanilla cupcakes topped with whipped peanut butter cream cheese icing, milk chocolate chips, crushed pretzels, and a drizzle of warm caramel
“But youhaveto find a way to come to Toronto,” Dani says. “My parents finally caved and said I could bring you. We’ll have a suite overlooking the city and everything.”
“Don’t rub it in.” I flip the mixer on high and dump in a pile of shaved chocolate, batter churning into a clumpy mess. First time in history I get not one, but two invites for New Year’s, and Mom decides it’s the perfect night to pimp herself out to the local business community. “I’m rockin’ the couch with Bug and Dick Clark.”
Dani pouts and stamps her foot, kindergarten-style. “What about Mrs. Ferris?”