Chapter 25
Lucky
They arrived in waves, each new family bringing enough chaos that I wondered why we’d suggested a big family dinner on the first day everyone was here. I had half a mind to call Sachi and Emily and Mack and warn them not to come.
My parents came first, pulling up the driveway in their sensible rental car just before noon.
I watched from the window as Mom emerged with her rolling suitcase and the tight expression that meant she’d already compiled a mental list of improvements for my life.
Dad followed with a bag of spices from some Denver grocery store, his smile easy and oblivious to the tension I was radiating.
Chitra didn’t look up from her phone until the car had completely stopped, then surveyed the house with the critical eye I’d been dreading.
“Lucky,” my mother said, pulling me into a brief hug that smelled of airplane sanitizer and the jasmine perfume she’d worn since I was a child. “The house is lovely. Whose is it again?”
“It’s Bode’s,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. “My roommate.”
“The snowboarder,” she said, her tone making it clear what she thought of that profession.
My father rescued me with a longer hug, his arms familiar and warm. “I found cardamom! Can you believe it? This little Indian market in Denver. I wasn’t sure they‘d have it at this altitude.” He held up his grocery bag like it contained treasure, which to him, it probably did.
“Dad, it‘s Colorado, not Mars. We have spices.”
“But these small town stores just can’t carry the selection of a good Indian market. Do they have quality?” He winked, already heading for the kitchen to investigate.
My younger sister, Chitra, breezed past me with three oversized bags, completely excessive for a five-day stay, even accounting for snowboard outerwear. “This place is actually nice,” she said, sounding surprised. “Like, actually nice. I thought you were exaggerating.”
“Why would I exaggerate about where I live?”
She shrugged, her gaze moving past me to scan the open-plan living area. “To make us think you’re doing better than you are? I don’t know how your mind works.” She dropped her bags dramatically in the middle of the hallway. “Where am I sleeping?”
“We‘re still working that out,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “There are bedrooms upstairs, but—“
“I‘m not sharing with Mom and Dad,” she cut in, already walking away to explore.
An hour later, the house had doubled in population.
Wade‘s parents arrived in a pickup truck that looked like it had seen every mile between Nebraska and Colorado personally. Carol Kowalski emerged from the passenger side hauling out a cooler that I knew, from Wade’s stories, contained enough food to feed everyone in the house.
“Wade!” she called, her face lighting up as he came down the front steps. She thrust the cooler into his hands and immediately produced a container of pierogies from its depths. “These need to go in the fridge. I made them yesterday.”
Bode perked up at the appearance of food and rushed over to take it to his neatly organized fridge, which was a little short on containers from Fumiko, probably because Fumiko would be here herself in just a few minutes.
Henry Kowalski shook hands with Wade, then with Bode and me in turn. His palm was calloused and warm, his grip firm without being showy. He looked past us to the mountains visible through the back windows and said, “Huh,” with what I was learning was characteristic brevity.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” I said, trying to sound like a normal friend. “Wade’s told us so much about you.”
“Has he?” Carol asked, looking genuinely surprised. She patted Wade’s cheek affectionately. “This one keeps his cards close.”
Bode frowned. “No he doesn’t.”
Carol just laughed and walked away, setting another container of food on the kitchen island. I caught Wade’s eye over his mother’s shoulder and saw him wince slightly. Had he wanted us to introduce ourselves as his romantic partners?
By four o’clock, the final wave hit. Bode’s mother arrived with his grandparents in tow, and I felt my anxiety spike.
Sachi I could handle, she was my boss, after all, and we’d built a good relationship over the months.
But his grandparents were an unknown quantity, and I’d spent enough time with Bode to know how much their opinion meant to him.
Taro, Bode’s grandfather, stepped into the entryway and immediately surveyed the pile of shoes that had accumulated by the door.
He nodded once, making a small sound of approval that I couldn’t quite interpret.
Fumiko kissed Bode’s cheeks in greeting, her movements precise and elegant despite her age.
“Lucky,” Sachi said, spotting me hovering in the kitchen doorway.
“Good to see you outside the office.” Her smile had that knowing quality that made me suspect she’d orchestrated this entire gathering somehow.
She’d been suspiciously accommodating when I’d mentioned needing time off for family visitors.
The kitchen had become command central, with my father claiming the stove for what appeared to be an impromptu dal preparation.
He’d somehow acquired all the necessary ingredients in the two hours since his arrival, which didn’t surprise me.
Rajan Venkataraman could manifest a proper kitchen anywhere through sheer force of will.
Carol had claimed a section of counter and was doing something with her pierogies, her movements confident and purposeful. Fumiko had produced several containers of pre-prepared food from an insulated bag and was arranging them with meticulous care on a serving platter.
My mother had retreated to a corner of the great room with her phone, murmuring something about “just a quick thing for work” that had now stretched to nearly an hour.
Henry had escaped to the deck, nursing a cup of coffee and watching the night skiing lights on the mountain with the patient stillness of a man accustomed to waiting out chaos.
Wade was everywhere at once, refilling drinks, answering questions, offering snacks, making introductions.
He moved through the crowded space with the same easy competence he showed in the ER, anticipating needs before they were voiced.
When he caught my eye across the room, his expression softened into something intimate and private, a look that said I see you and we’ll get through this together.
It made my chest ache with a feeling I still hadn‘t fully named.
Bode looked increasingly overwhelmed as the noise level rose.
I could see it in the tightness around his eyes, the way his fingers tapped against his thigh in that restless rhythm he got when his ADHD brain was processing too much input.
He kept glancing at Wade, then at me, clearly trying to read the room and failing.
I was trying to solve the most immediate problem: where everyone would sleep. My phone displayed a floor plan of the house with colored rectangles representing people, a practical solution to a practical problem. Except people weren’t neat colored rectangles. They were complicated and had opinions.
“There are four bedrooms upstairs,” I explained to the general vicinity of the kitchen for what felt like the tenth time. “My room and Wade’s room are at the end of the hall. The two rooms on the other side are empty. Parents can take those two rooms.”
“And where am I supposed to sleep?” Chitra asked, arms crossed. “The sofa?”
“There’s a pull-out in the office downstairs,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “It’s actually really comfortable.”
“I’m not sleeping on a pull-out while everyone else gets real beds,” she protested.
“Wade,” I called across the room, desperate for backup. “Does Jessie want the other downstairs room, or—“
“Jessie’s not coming,” Wade replied, setting down a tray of drinks. “Just Mom and Dad.”
“Fine, then Chitra can have the downstairs bedroom,” I said, revising my mental diagram.
“I don’t want to be downstairs by myself,” Chitra countered. “Why can’t I have your room if you’re going to be in Wade‘s room half the time anyway?”
I felt my face flush hot as Wade froze mid-motion, a glass of water suspended halfway to the coffee table. “I—what—no, that’s not—“
Bode appeared at my side, his presence solid and reassuring.
“Lucky,” he said quietly, “Wade’s upset.
He’s trying not to show it, but...” He trailed off, clearly unsure how to fix the situation.
I could see in his eyes that he was spiraling too, caught between wanting to help and feeling overwhelmed himself.
The doorbell rang, cutting through the chaos. I opened it to find Emily from Moriko standing there with a pie balanced precariously on one hand, her pink-streaked hair escaping from a messy bun.
“I brought desserts!” she chirped, thrusting the pie toward me. Mack was behind her, with a six pack of beer… not exactly appropriate for the party, but perfectly Mack.
He blinked at the crowd. “Oh wow, there are so many people!”
Emily ignored him and pushed past me into the house, already introducing herself at full volume to the nearest person, who happened to be my mother.
I looked at the pie in my hands and wondered if it was too late to run for the hills.
I saw Bode backing toward the hallway. He caught my eye, and I nodded, encouraging him to get outside and get some air with a wave. But before he could make his escape, the front door swung open without warning.
A tall man with piercing blue eyes and silver-streaked hair stepped in, bringing with him a blast of cold air and mountain presence.
I recognized him instantly from photos, though we’d never met.
Hans Eriksen, Bode’s long-absent father, surveyed the room with casual confidence, seemingly oblivious to the chaos he’d just walked into.