Bailey: Well, our Christmas tree is officially dead. Apparently, there’s a finite number of decorations one tiny tree can withstand. I think we’ll have to go get a new one. Poor guy sort of split in two.
Then she sends a picture of Josie leaning over the tree, frowning, and doing a thumbs-down.
I wonder if Bailey ever just has a normal, boring day. Somehow, I doubt it.
That evening, we drive to a tree farm and luck out when we see that all the trees are on sale.
“Duh!” Josie says from the back seat. “It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow!”
I hadn’t even realized. Crap. I should have called my mom back days ago, but it completely slipped my mind. She’s probably given up my spot at the Christmas dinner table, or if not, she’ll have ordered a cutout version of me to place there. It’d probably be as jovial as I tend to be during the holidays.
I leave Bailey and Josie to browse through the trees and tell them to find a good one, and then I head back toward my car to dial my mom.
“Well, if it isn’t a Christmas miracle,” she teases as soon as she picks up.
I smile. “Hey. Sorry, it’s been a crazy few days.”
“Aren’t they always? Let me guess, you’re up at the office now, working even though you should be enjoying the holidays?”
I rub the scruff of my neck and turn in time to see Josie point to the back of the lot, where they keep the behemoths, and then I hear her tell the attendant, “We’re looking for something bigger!”
Oh lord.
“Actually, I’m at a tree farm with Bailey and her sister.”
“Bailey…” She says the name like she’s trying to jog her memory.
“The woman I’m seeing,” I clarify at the same moment she exclaims, “Your surgical assistant?! The woman Cooper brought as his date to Molly’s wedding?”
I watch as Josie points to what I swear is the biggest, widest tree in the whole damn lot and then asks the attendant to wrap it up. Bailey turns back to me and holds up her hands like, What are we going to do?
I laugh and shake my head. There is a 110% chance I’ll be driving home with that tree attached to the roof of my Prius.
My mom makes a funny, well-isn’t-that-interesting noise. “So she got you out of the office, huh?”
I sigh. “Seems so.”
“I’ll be damned. Are you going to spend Christmas Day with her as well?”
Bailey made it clear I was welcome to. Well, technically, Josie was the first to insist upon it. “You have to! Bailey makes the best cinnamon rolls in the world! It’s a Christmas tradition!”
“I might.”
“Well, you’re welcome to bring them over to the house. It’ll just be a few of us. Your Uncle Pat and his wife are coming, and Molly and Thomas are back from their honeymoon so they’ll be there too. Cooper’s staying up in Cincinnati.”
“Okay, let me run it by Bailey and I’ll let you know.”
I expect Bailey to flinch at the idea of spending Christmas with my family, and I don’t even work up the courage to suggest it until we’re halfway home from the tree farm. It’s taking longer than usual because with the tree on my roof, I can barely see out the windshield.
“Really?! I’d love to go to your parents’ house on Christmas!” she says, smiling. “Honestly, the holidays can get a little lonely with just Josie and me, and it’s a hassle making all that food for only two people. We usually just skip right to dessert.” She turns toward the back seat. “What do you think, Jos? Do you want to go?”
Josie leans forward and props her hand on my headrest. “What kind of food are we talking? Your standard turkey and stuffing?”
“And ham too, probably.”
Her eyes narrow in serious contemplation. “Will there be sweet potato casserole?”
“Always.”
“Green bean casserole?”
My grin widens. “Definitely.”
“How many dessert options, give or take?”
“Josie,” Bailey cuts in, eyes wide in warning.
“At least half a dozen,” I brag.
“Fresh-baked rolls?”
I smirk, knowing full well I’ve got her. “My mom uses an old family recipe. Word is she uses half a stick of butter for each one.”
She grins and taps my headrest twice. “All right then. I’ll wear my stretchiest pants.”
Chapter 29
BAILEY
I’m so jolly on Christmas morning I might as well be Mrs. Claus. I wake up before the sun and am careful not to wake Matt as I sneak out of bed. For the record, he’s a cuddler, and I have to simultaneously pull my body out from beneath his arm and slide a big fluffy pillow into its place. It works like a charm.
I’m a little elf doing Santa’s bidding as I tiptoe around the living room. I lay stockings out on the coffee table for Matt and Josie. Matt’s is homemade (Josie had some fun yesterday with felt letters and a hot glue gun), and sure, it’s a little wonky—she made M-A-T so big she had to put the last T on the back—but it’s the thought that counts. I fill both stockings with candy: cherry cordials for Josie and the darkest dark chocolate I could find for Matt. Josie and I both groaned in protest when he told us that was his favorite treat.
Once that’s done, I light the tree and put out Josie’s “gift from Santa”. It’s tradition. I always wrap a few things for her, but the real present—the big kahuna, if you will—always sits unwrapped in front of the tree, waiting for her to run out and see it and squeal with delight. Last year, it was a Kindle. This year, I scrimped and saved and got her tickets to see Harry Potter and the Cursed Child on Broadway. We’ll take a train into the city and make a whole day of it. I’m giddy just thinking about it. She’s definitely going to scream, maybe even cry. I should set up my phone to record the whole thing.
After everything is arranged in the living room, I head into the kitchen, AKA where the real magic happens on Christmas morning.
I flip the light on and the quiet, empty room sends a pang straight to my heart. I’m careful around the holidays. After so many years without my parents, I’ve learned it’s a slippery slope to dwell on their absence too much this time of year. The first years without them, Josie was so young, to her it didn’t matter so much that our parents weren’t with us as long as there were presents waiting for her under the tree. Dollar store trinkets lit up her eyes and a frozen turkey dinner was as good as any. Meanwhile, all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cease to exist, but with Josie relying on me, I pulled myself together and cranked up the holiday spirit.
In the years since, we’ve slowly started to incorporate my parents into the festivities more and more. It doesn’t scare me as much as it used to. Now we hang my mom’s vintage ornaments on the tree, and every time Feliz Navidad comes on the radio, we sing along at the top of our lungs just like my dad used to do. My favorite tradition is baking on Christmas morning. It’s something my mom and I used to do together. She and I would wake up first and take care to be extra quiet as we padded into the kitchen so we wouldn’t wake up my dad and Josie.
Her maple-glazed cinnamon rolls were out of this world. To this day, Josie talks about them every day of December, discussing ad nauseum every little detail that makes them so dang delicious. The thought makes me smile as I pull the recipe card out of a tin box and run my finger pad across it. I know I shouldn’t. My mother’s instructions are written in pencil and they’re already fading, but I just can’t help myself. Being in here now makes me feel closer to her, as if she and I are still doing this together.
God, I miss her.
“Ugh, I could have sworn I already smelled cinnamon rolls, but I must have been dreaming.”
I jump out of my skin and whip around to see Josie standing at the kitchen door, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her blonde hair is sticking up in every direction and there’s a little drool dried on her chin. Her sleeping shirt says, All I want for Christmas is you food.
“Oh no. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
She wraps her arms around herself to keep warm and shakes her head. “No. I was just too excited to sleep.”
Then she sends a picture of Josie leaning over the tree, frowning, and doing a thumbs-down.
I wonder if Bailey ever just has a normal, boring day. Somehow, I doubt it.
That evening, we drive to a tree farm and luck out when we see that all the trees are on sale.
“Duh!” Josie says from the back seat. “It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow!”
I hadn’t even realized. Crap. I should have called my mom back days ago, but it completely slipped my mind. She’s probably given up my spot at the Christmas dinner table, or if not, she’ll have ordered a cutout version of me to place there. It’d probably be as jovial as I tend to be during the holidays.
I leave Bailey and Josie to browse through the trees and tell them to find a good one, and then I head back toward my car to dial my mom.
“Well, if it isn’t a Christmas miracle,” she teases as soon as she picks up.
I smile. “Hey. Sorry, it’s been a crazy few days.”
“Aren’t they always? Let me guess, you’re up at the office now, working even though you should be enjoying the holidays?”
I rub the scruff of my neck and turn in time to see Josie point to the back of the lot, where they keep the behemoths, and then I hear her tell the attendant, “We’re looking for something bigger!”
Oh lord.
“Actually, I’m at a tree farm with Bailey and her sister.”
“Bailey…” She says the name like she’s trying to jog her memory.
“The woman I’m seeing,” I clarify at the same moment she exclaims, “Your surgical assistant?! The woman Cooper brought as his date to Molly’s wedding?”
I watch as Josie points to what I swear is the biggest, widest tree in the whole damn lot and then asks the attendant to wrap it up. Bailey turns back to me and holds up her hands like, What are we going to do?
I laugh and shake my head. There is a 110% chance I’ll be driving home with that tree attached to the roof of my Prius.
My mom makes a funny, well-isn’t-that-interesting noise. “So she got you out of the office, huh?”
I sigh. “Seems so.”
“I’ll be damned. Are you going to spend Christmas Day with her as well?”
Bailey made it clear I was welcome to. Well, technically, Josie was the first to insist upon it. “You have to! Bailey makes the best cinnamon rolls in the world! It’s a Christmas tradition!”
“I might.”
“Well, you’re welcome to bring them over to the house. It’ll just be a few of us. Your Uncle Pat and his wife are coming, and Molly and Thomas are back from their honeymoon so they’ll be there too. Cooper’s staying up in Cincinnati.”
“Okay, let me run it by Bailey and I’ll let you know.”
I expect Bailey to flinch at the idea of spending Christmas with my family, and I don’t even work up the courage to suggest it until we’re halfway home from the tree farm. It’s taking longer than usual because with the tree on my roof, I can barely see out the windshield.
“Really?! I’d love to go to your parents’ house on Christmas!” she says, smiling. “Honestly, the holidays can get a little lonely with just Josie and me, and it’s a hassle making all that food for only two people. We usually just skip right to dessert.” She turns toward the back seat. “What do you think, Jos? Do you want to go?”
Josie leans forward and props her hand on my headrest. “What kind of food are we talking? Your standard turkey and stuffing?”
“And ham too, probably.”
Her eyes narrow in serious contemplation. “Will there be sweet potato casserole?”
“Always.”
“Green bean casserole?”
My grin widens. “Definitely.”
“How many dessert options, give or take?”
“Josie,” Bailey cuts in, eyes wide in warning.
“At least half a dozen,” I brag.
“Fresh-baked rolls?”
I smirk, knowing full well I’ve got her. “My mom uses an old family recipe. Word is she uses half a stick of butter for each one.”
She grins and taps my headrest twice. “All right then. I’ll wear my stretchiest pants.”
Chapter 29
BAILEY
I’m so jolly on Christmas morning I might as well be Mrs. Claus. I wake up before the sun and am careful not to wake Matt as I sneak out of bed. For the record, he’s a cuddler, and I have to simultaneously pull my body out from beneath his arm and slide a big fluffy pillow into its place. It works like a charm.
I’m a little elf doing Santa’s bidding as I tiptoe around the living room. I lay stockings out on the coffee table for Matt and Josie. Matt’s is homemade (Josie had some fun yesterday with felt letters and a hot glue gun), and sure, it’s a little wonky—she made M-A-T so big she had to put the last T on the back—but it’s the thought that counts. I fill both stockings with candy: cherry cordials for Josie and the darkest dark chocolate I could find for Matt. Josie and I both groaned in protest when he told us that was his favorite treat.
Once that’s done, I light the tree and put out Josie’s “gift from Santa”. It’s tradition. I always wrap a few things for her, but the real present—the big kahuna, if you will—always sits unwrapped in front of the tree, waiting for her to run out and see it and squeal with delight. Last year, it was a Kindle. This year, I scrimped and saved and got her tickets to see Harry Potter and the Cursed Child on Broadway. We’ll take a train into the city and make a whole day of it. I’m giddy just thinking about it. She’s definitely going to scream, maybe even cry. I should set up my phone to record the whole thing.
After everything is arranged in the living room, I head into the kitchen, AKA where the real magic happens on Christmas morning.
I flip the light on and the quiet, empty room sends a pang straight to my heart. I’m careful around the holidays. After so many years without my parents, I’ve learned it’s a slippery slope to dwell on their absence too much this time of year. The first years without them, Josie was so young, to her it didn’t matter so much that our parents weren’t with us as long as there were presents waiting for her under the tree. Dollar store trinkets lit up her eyes and a frozen turkey dinner was as good as any. Meanwhile, all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cease to exist, but with Josie relying on me, I pulled myself together and cranked up the holiday spirit.
In the years since, we’ve slowly started to incorporate my parents into the festivities more and more. It doesn’t scare me as much as it used to. Now we hang my mom’s vintage ornaments on the tree, and every time Feliz Navidad comes on the radio, we sing along at the top of our lungs just like my dad used to do. My favorite tradition is baking on Christmas morning. It’s something my mom and I used to do together. She and I would wake up first and take care to be extra quiet as we padded into the kitchen so we wouldn’t wake up my dad and Josie.
Her maple-glazed cinnamon rolls were out of this world. To this day, Josie talks about them every day of December, discussing ad nauseum every little detail that makes them so dang delicious. The thought makes me smile as I pull the recipe card out of a tin box and run my finger pad across it. I know I shouldn’t. My mother’s instructions are written in pencil and they’re already fading, but I just can’t help myself. Being in here now makes me feel closer to her, as if she and I are still doing this together.
God, I miss her.
“Ugh, I could have sworn I already smelled cinnamon rolls, but I must have been dreaming.”
I jump out of my skin and whip around to see Josie standing at the kitchen door, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her blonde hair is sticking up in every direction and there’s a little drool dried on her chin. Her sleeping shirt says, All I want for Christmas is you food.
“Oh no. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
She wraps her arms around herself to keep warm and shakes her head. “No. I was just too excited to sleep.”
