Chapter Seven
OWEN
“I, um, yeah,” Layla says, answering Spencer’s question. She glances between him and me. “I know Owen. He’s friends with a man who lives in the same assisted living home as my nana.”
The bigger question is how Layla knows Spencer. How did they even meet? The year we worked at the firm together, he spent all of his time at the office, and when not there or sleeping, he ran to keep in shape.
“How do you two know each other?” I ask, pointing between Layla and Spencer.
Spencer lays his arm around Layla’s shoulders, an insufferable smirk on his annoying face. “Layla is my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend? The surprise feels like a slap. I spent most of the flight here wondering about her, and she’s dating my cousin? Then why did she go with me to the drive-in last night? Why did she tell me she was spending Christmas with her roommates? Is she a pathological liar? Or maybe a master manipulator? But to what end? To get two dollar fries out of me?
Layla won’t meet my gaze. She’s the first woman I’ve felt a connection to in years, and she’s dating Spencer . Spencer and I have diametrically opposed views on almost everything, especially work and money. We’re not similar in any way, yet we’re drawn to the same woman. Of course we are.
To break the hold Layla’s presence has on me, I glance at Mom. She’s crying as she talks to her siblings. This is the first time she’s seen them in thirty-three years. The injustice of the situation infuriates me, and I can’t understand why she’s not angry like I am.
I pull Brady forward to use him as a distraction. I didn’t want to come, and now that I’m here, I can see that it was a bigger mistake than I anticipated. “Brady, meet your cousin Spencer. This is Spencer’s friend Layla.”
“Girlfriend,” Spencer clarifies.
Brady’s more interested in me. He studies me, then glances at Layla, then back at me. He’s too smart for his own good. Or at least, my good.
Brady raises his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Hi.”
“Hello.” Spencer barely spares Brady a glance. “Owen, I wasn’t sure you’d show up. Last time we spoke, you said you’d see me at my funeral.”
I was twenty-four, bitter, and a bit on the melodramatic side. “I’m here because my mom asked me to come. Not for any other reason. ”
Tori pouts. “You didn’t come to see me? I’m your best friend.”
A grin spreads across my face without permission. I promised Mom and Brady I would make this a great Christmas, but I didn’t expect to find much joy here. I didn’t take into consideration Tori.
When I cut Mom’s family out of my life, Tori wouldn’t let me go. She called me daily until I finally picked up the phone. She would have attended Dad’s funeral, but it was the end of her first year of law school, and she couldn’t get away.
These days, we video chat at least once a week, and I fly out to New York every few months to see her and Sadie. I haven’t been out since October, and it’s good to see her.
“You could always come visit me,” I say. “My house may be small, but I still have a guest bedroom you and Sadie can stay in.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Me in Idaho? Isn’t there cow poop everywhere? I won’t ruin my shoes, not even for my favorite cousin.”
“Hey!” Spencer says. “I gave you that Cartier diamond necklace for your birthday.”
I laugh, something I did not expect to do this week, but otherwise ignore Spencer. “I live in Utah, not Idaho. We’re known for national parks and skiing.” She acts like anything west of Florida is podunkville. “However, my mom lives in Nevada, and they’re known for gold mines and casinos if you’d rather visit me there.”
Her eyes widen with interest. “Tell me more.”
My attention annoyingly goes back to Layla. She’s half- hiding behind Spencer’s shoulder again. They never answered my question about how they met.
“Layla, how do you know Spencer?”
“They met at a New Year’s Eve party a year ago,” Tori says in a sing-song voice. She widens her eyes like she knows this is a lie, but we’re all going along with it because it would be bad manners to call the two of them out as frauds. “Spencer knew from their first kiss that he couldn’t live without her.”
I want to gag. And punch that smirk off of Spencer’s face.
“You know she’s a teacher, right?” I say.
Layla blanches. “What has that got to do with anything?”
Everything as far as this family is concerned, but the dig I intended for Spencer hit Layla, and I open my mouth to apologize. I don’t get the chance.
“This is a lovely sight.”
Everyone turns as one to the door where Grandmother stands. She’s … smaller than the last time I saw her eight years ago. Mom mentioned she’d been sick the last month, but I assumed that meant a cold. Grandmother looks like she’s been battling death. Her dark red blazer fits poorly over her narrow shoulders. There are hollows in her cheeks, and her eyes appear sunken. I fear she might topple over at any second.
“Marianne.” She takes a step in my mom’s direction, and Mom throws herself into Grandmother’s arms, but gently.
They both cry, and then Ellory joins their hug, and she pulls in Dorian. It’s the most emotional I’ve ever seen any of them. Especially Grandmother.
With that one hug, it seems everything is forgiven. I clench my hands into fists. This is what Mom wants, to be back with her family, but I can’t forget how everyone ignored her and Dad for decades. Yes, it was because of Grandfather, but everyone in this room followed along like baby ducklings so they weren’t disinherited as well. If he hadn’t died eight months ago, Mom wouldn’t have been invited to celebrate Christmas with the family, and we all know it.
Grandmother pulls back and comes to me. She lays her hand against my cheek. Her touch is soft, but her fingers are cold. She has too much skin for her bones. No matter how weak she appears, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Her smile no longer hides behind a placid expression. I’m familiar with her speaking quietly, so it seems her voice booms around the room as she speaks now.
“Owen, you are looking well. I’m so glad you came. And this must be Brady. Your mom has told me all about you. She says you love to read fantasy and even started writing your own book. We’re going to have a novelist in the family in a few years. Is that right?”
Brady looks stricken. No one knows about his dream of being an author. Surprisingly, no one laughs. Tori doesn’t even roll her eyes, and eye rolling is her reaction to ninety percent of what she’s told.
“I look forward to reading your first book,” Grandmother continues when Brady gives no response.
She makes her way around the room, hugging and greeting each person. This is more out of character behavior. The grandmother I remember nodded her head and welcomed the family from an emotional distance. From everyone’s surprised expressions, this change in personality is new for them as well.
When she reaches Spencer and Layla, she takes each of their hands. “Spencer, Miles told me you brought your girlfriend. It is lovely to meet you, Layla.”
“You as well, Mrs. Eccleston. Thank you for allowing me to come for Christmas.” Layla stands poised and confident, no longer hiding behind my cousin.
“We’re happy to have you. Please, call me Rheta.”
I don’t think anyone has called Grandmother by her first name since the day she married Grandfather.
Spencer glances at me for one second before he says. “Grandmother, Layla is a teacher. She teaches middle school choir.”
Everyone holds their breaths as we wait for Grandmother’s response. Grandfather disowned my mom when she married a teacher .
“What a noble profession,” Grandmother says. “Dinner is ready. Shall we go into the dining room?”
That’s it?
The family follows her from the room, I stay where I am, too angry to move. I don’t want to be here. The hypocrisy stinks. I should have booked us a hotel in Boston and stayed there for an extra day. Or two. I didn’t get my fill of the city, even though I spent the day showing Mom and Brady all my favorite haunts from when I was a student at Harvard. I even got my hair cut at the barbershop near my old apartment because Mom’s been commenting about the length.
Brady stays back with me as the room empties. “This is weird,” he says.
Mom waits for us at the door, wiping tears from her eyes. “Maybe a little. It’s been a long time since we’ve been a family. ”
“Doesn’t it bother you that they only speak to you now because their inheritances aren’t at stake any longer?” I ask.
She walks to me and pats down my collar. “It makes me happy that we’ve become more inclusive as a family.”
I finish the thought in my mind— now that Grandfather is gone .
She stops messing with my shirt and lays a hand on each of our shoulders. “Come boys, let’s eat.”
We cross the foyer toward the dining room when Miles comes through from outside. He’s the person I’ve missed the most since I stopped visiting, and I shake his hand while throwing my free arm around his shoulder.
“Owen,” he says as he slaps my back. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You, too.” I pull back. “This is my mom Marianne and my brother Brady.”
His smile grows as he looks at my mom. “I know Marianne. How are you?”
How does he know my mom? It gets stranger when they embrace.
“I’m great,” Mom says.
I look between them. “How do you two know each other?”
“You’re not the only one who spent summers in Maine.” Mom looks around at the grandiose foyer. “Though not here. When we visited, we had a cottage further down the shore. Father built this place while I’ve been gone. Miles’ parents worked for us. His mom is an amazing chef.”
“She still is,” Miles says. “They both retired about ten years ago. ”
Mom lays a hand on his arm. “My mother mentioned that your wife passed last year. I was sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. She’d been suffering for a while, so there is comfort in knowing she’s not in pain anymore. I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thank you.”
Something passes between them as they gaze at each other. Are they bonding over the shared grief at the loss of a spouse? It makes me wonder what they were to each other when Mom visited Maine as a teenager.
I clear my throat. Miles tears his eyes away from Mom and waves us toward the dining room. “Everyone is waiting. If you give me your car keys, I can bring in your luggage and have it waiting in your rooms.”
I hand over the keys. “You can’t miss it. It’s a red, fifteen-passenger van.” And not a sleek, shiny one. It’s a box on wheels.
His eyes widen. “A van?”
Mom laughs. “We were lucky enough to get the last rental in the whole airport.”
She takes a moment to explain the mix-up with our car rental reservation, as though hesitant to say goodbye. I glance at Brady to share the bizarreness of this situation, but he’s looking at the painted ceiling. It’s a replica of a circular painting in the church of Saint-Roch in France. As a kid, I was fascinated by the people who look like they’re climbing toward heaven through puffy clouds. Now it hits me as pretentious.
“I thought this was supposed to be a cabin,” he says. “It looks like a palace.”
“It’s called a cabin because it’s a rural location. You should see the other vacation homes. The villa in Italy is amazing.”
Honestly, I’m surprised Grandmother chose Maine for Christmas since she hates the cold. Maybe she assumed Mom couldn’t afford the trip if she chose somewhere international.
Mom finally says goodbye to her pal Miles. When we enter the dining room, everyone is indeed waiting for us. Grandmother sits at her normal seat at the end of the table with Dorian, a redheaded woman, Tori, Spencer, and Layla on one side, and Ellory and Gerald along the other. The table is too large for the small group assembled.
The three remaining seats are on the side nearest the empty end chair where Grandfather always sat. It feels as if he’s about to walk in and my body tenses. I remind myself he’s gone.
Silently, we take our seats. I’m on the end, across from Layla. Not a great seating arrangement.
A moment later, two servers bring in a pureed soup. We wait until Grandmother has her first taste before we eat. It’s delicious and creamy. Not as good as Miles’ mom’s soup when she worked here, but almost.
We eat our soup silently. The servers clear the dishes and serve us salad. In the past, Grandfather directed the conversation during meals. It seems without him, we’re at a loss.
“Layla,” Grandmother says into the silence. “Spencer. Tell me how you two met.”
I watch them gaze at each other as they share their story. If I keep staring at them, I’ll lose my appetite, so I force myself to focus on my plate.
They’ve been dating for a year. I saw Layla for the first time on June twenty-first. I have to wonder what this week would look like if I’d met her before she met Spencer. Except a year ago I spent all my time working to grow my manufacturing company, and we would never have crossed paths.
Even though they weave a believable account of their relationship, their story doesn’t add up with what I’ve gleaned from watching Layla over the past half year. I might not have talked to her, but the residents talked about her. There was never any mention of a boyfriend.
During our main course of chicken Kiev, asparagus, and crispy roasted potatoes, Grandmother keeps up the conversation. She wants to know about Mom’s job as a secretary, Layla’s students, Tori’s daughter, Ellory’s pro bono cases, and Brady’s schooling. She asks me what I’ve been up to, and I tell her I’m a landscaper. It’s barely the truth since I own the business and do little of the actual physical labor. Spencer looks at me with pity.
One thing Grandmother does not bring up is the law, which I appreciate. Under Grandfather, every meal was about the law.
I don’t think I’m the only one who notices Grandmother eats very little. By the time dessert is served, she doesn’t pretend anymore and waves away a plate of strawberry cheesecake, my favorite.
“I am so happy that we are all here,” she says. She motions to a server, and they pull out her chair. She stands, leaning heavily on the table. “It’s been too long since we’ve been together as a family. This year we will have a traditional family Christmas. Schedules for the week are in your rooms. Sleep well. I will see you tomorrow morning at breakfast.”
She leaves, the door closing softly behind her.
“Well,” Ellory says with a sigh. “I think we all know now why we’re here for the week.”
“She wants to see her family,” Mom says.
“Yes,” Ellory agrees. “Because she’s dying.”
“And holding our inheritances over our heads, so we’ll play along with her ‘traditional family Christmas,’” Dorian adds.