Chapter 24
Christmas Morning
I yawned my way down the stairs to the living room, tugging my new boutique sweater over my hips.
Even though nothing—literally not one thing—had gone the way I’d expected this trip, I couldn’t let that infamous sweater purchase be a complete waste.
Besides, it was Christmas! A day worth celebrating.
And, as I was determined to remember, it was not all about me anyway.
“Merry Christmas, Aunt Holly!” Janie jumped up and down by the tree stocked with presents, bouncing so hard and fast I had to look twice to make sure she hadn’t been gifted a pogo stick.
I laughed. “Merry Christmas to you.” Okay, she was making me dizzy. I paused by the back of the couch. “Where is everyone?”
Janie shrugged as she bounced. “Aunt Lydia said something about homemade kringle in the oven.”
Mmm. That sounded amazing and…yep, if I took a deep breath, I could smell the custard baking. I guess Lydia was really trying to up her cooking skills, the one thing that didn’t seem to come naturally to her.
Or at least, the one thing Ryan dared to admit didn’t come naturally to her.
Janie stopped bouncing long enough to focus on me. “Can we open gifts yet?”
“We have to wait for everyone else.” I held up a finger.
“Let me grab some coffee and I’ll be right back.
Some of us don’t have your energy and need caffeine.
” I hadn’t slept great last night, waking up to check my phone every few hours—to my sisters’ sleepy protests—to see if Nick had texted me back.
He hadn’t.
My stomach knotted. He couldn’t ignore me forever, right? There’d be time to talk eventually. Today, though, was about baby Jesus and family—even if my heart ached to make things right with Nick.
Janie sank down to the floor near the brightly wrapped gifts and plopped her head in her hands. “Mom said the same thing about getting coffee ages ago.” She sighed as if mustering all her patience. “But I’ll wait.”
“Good girl.” I then noticed Kat snuggled into the recliner with a mug of what I assumed was decaf, staring at her cell. “Merry Christmas, sis. Need anything else?”
“Devin to answer his phone.” She waved it listlessly in the air. “I’m a few minutes early for our FaceTime, but if I don’t tell him about this baby soon, I’m gonna pop.”
Janie’s eyes bugged as her gaze lowered to Kat’s belly. “Can you do that?”
I left Kat to handle that one and escaped into the kitchen.
Ryan searched for coffee mugs in the cabinet while Lydia, wearing buffalo plaid pajamas that matched Ryan’s, donned mitts and hovered by the oven window.
“According to the recipe, it needs five more minutes.” She clicked on the oven light and peered inside.
“It smells done to me, babe.” Ryan poured coffee into two mugs, then looked up and saw me and grabbed a third. “Hey, Holly Berry. Happy birthday.”
He always remembered. I smiled and took the mug of caffeine he offered, letting the nickname slide. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. “Thanks, bro.” I hip-bumped him before taking a sip. Ahh, caffeine. Then I recognized the black mug as the one I’d used for me and Nick, and my smile slipped.
Did everything have to remind me of him?
“I’m telling you, that kringle is done.” Ryan gestured toward the oven. He’d donned his glasses and had his robe hanging open over his plaid pajamas, making him look more like Dad than he’d probably like to admit.
“Three more minutes.” Lydia crossed her arms as she stubbornly stood guard in front of the oven. “Following a recipe exactly is important in baking.”
“Agreed, but sometimes ovens can vary a bit temp-wise.” Ryan reached for the door but Lydia blocked him.
“Guys, Mom and Dad are up now.” Olivia popped her head around the kitchen doorframe.
I frowned, resting against the counter. Hadn’t Janie said Olivia was already in here getting coffee? She wasn’t even holding a mug.
She impatiently pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Are we ready for gifts? I don’t think I can hold the munchkins off much longer.”
“What about Paul?” Ryan asked. “When is he coming?”
Olivia shrugged a little, lips twisted to the side, and then disappeared around the corner.
“Well, that’s not good.” Ryan’s gaze darted to mine as he pushed up his glasses. “Any word from Nick?”
I took another sip of coffee and shook my head.
Lydia’s face crumpled and she started toward me, oven mitts outstretched. “Ryan told me everything.”
I forced a smile as she hugged me. Great. The girl who had taken both my brother and my mother’s attention and was only a step shy of Mary Poppins—practically perfect in every way—felt sorry for me.
Wait. That was my old way of thinking. I shook my head. I was not going to fall back into old patterns, not on Christmas.
Of course, I couldn’t make any promises about tomorrow, but I had to start somewhere.
Sympathy welled in Lydia’s eyes, the exact look that was the entire reason I’d wanted to avoid coming home in the first place. “I know it’s been a hard year for you. With the IKEA guy and the job loss and now—Hey!”
Ryan darted around her, snatching one of the oven mitts off her hand as he maneuvered toward the oven. Coming to my rescue or attempting to salvage breakfast?
“I’m trying to save Christmas!” He wrenched open the oven door.
Ah. That answered my question.
Lydia jumped on his back and I darted out of the way. The oven door slammed shut again as she wrapped her legs and arms around him like a monkey. “It still has two more minutes!”
“Babe, I can’t see.” Ryan’s glasses had fogged, and he turned a fast circle, Lydia still on him like a blond backpack. She shrieked and gripped his neck, making Ryan cough.
Mason ran in, an oversized jersey thrown over his pajama pants, and pretended to dribble a ball around the kitchen table. “Grandma says everyone has to come open presents right now before me and Janie go feral. Whatever that means.” He fake-dribbled his way back toward the door.
He nearly collided with Axel and Chloe as they entered the kitchen. Axel tried to steal the imaginary ball from Mason, who instinctively whipped around in a tight defensive circle.
“Oh, you’re too good, man. Up top!” Axel raised his hand for a high five, which Mason attempted to jump and hit but was still too short to reach.
“Lydia, I’m begging you.” Ryan dumped Lydia onto the countertop in a heap of blond braids and red and black plaid. The aroma of berries and custard warmed the entire kitchen. “The kringle!”
She pursed her lips. “The timer hasn’t—”
Ding.
Ryan launched toward it, nearly smacking into Chloe, who turned from the coffeepot with a full mug at exactly the wrong moment. “Watch out!”
Hot coffee splashed onto the floor. Chloe jumped back.
“What in the world?” Olivia popped back into the kitchen, one hand on her sweatpants-clad hip. “You guys, hello? We’ve got presents in here.”
Axel rushed toward Chloe. “Are you okay?” Then he slid on the spilled coffee and hit the floor, landing on his knees. Which was a blessing in disguise, as Ryan spun at that exact moment and narrowly missed smacking Axel with the piping hot pan.
Ryan deposited the kringle on the cooling rack atop the island and examined it.
“How is it?” Lydia asked eagerly from her countertop perch.
Ryan frowned as he peered down at the filled pastry. “It’s, um…”
“Crispy?” I offered with a wince at the dark brown—okay, black—crust.
Lydia covered her face with her hands and let out a muffled cry.
Ryan froze.
I did too. Had Lydia finally snapped? Mrs. Perfect…it seemed impossible. But then—
“We can fix it!” I set my coffee down and hurried toward her, as if I had any clue what to do. And to that point, what was I doing? The singular time in history that Lydia failed, and I was trying to help cover it up? But it felt right. It was Christmas after all. Chalk it up to personal growth.
I spun a fast circle, searching the cluttered countertops. “Where’s the icing?”
“It’s hopeless,” Lydia wailed. “Ryan was right. He’s always right.”
Ryan’s eyes grew bigger than the kringle. “I am?” He looked at me, as if seeking permission to celebrate. I quickly shook my head.
“Stupid phone!” Kat barged into the kitchen, barely contained anger etched across her face.
“Does anyone have a charger? My stupid battery is draining from all my failed attempts to connect on stupid FaceTime.” She tossed her cell on the kitchen table and tightened her ponytail so hard I was surprised a chunk of hair didn’t fall out.
“I’ve got one.” Olivia ushered her son toward the door as I finally found the piping bag of premade icing in the refrigerator. “Mason, go make sure your sister isn’t tearing into everything while I help Aunt Kat.”
“But we’re not supposed to say the S -word,” Mason whispered loudly to his mom. “You know… stupid. ” His whisper dropped even lower.
Olivia covered his ears with her hands. “You’re right, we’re not.” She shot Kat a pointed look.
Kat crossed her arms and huffed. “Well, he should try being pregnant.”
Mason’s eyes widened. “I can’t—”
“Living room, now!” Olivia barked at him, then cut her eyes at our sister. “Kat, seriously, can you just—”
Ding-dong.
We all stopped and stared at each other. Icing dripped off the end of the piping bag onto the floor. I watched it land near my feet. Mom and Dad really should consider getting a dog.
But wait. They weren’t going to be living here much longer. My stomach flipped again.
“Who on earth?” Olivia snapped into mom mode and half-shoved Mason toward the living room.
“Go on to your sister. I’ll get the door.
And Chloe—here.” She snatched a kitchen rag off the island and tossed it to Chloe, who remained unmoving in the middle of the spill, as if it were lava instead of lukewarm coffee.
“My shoes!” She remained balanced in one spot on tiptoe. I craned my neck to see, then rolled my eyes at the sight of her white boots standing precariously in the middle of the coffee. Figures she dressed up while everyone else wore pajamas.