1. Odette
1
ODETTE
Present Day
Chicago, Illinois
Standing next to the floor-to-ceiling windows of my apartment, I watch the snow gather in thick, quiet layers on the street below. Fat snowflakes tumble from a steel-gray sky, mocking the festive mood that seems to have infected everyone but me.
It’s December 20th, just five more days until Christmas. For once, I was actually looking forward to it. Aurora and I were supposed to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day together, just the two of us. It’s the first holiday I’d asked her parents for ever since I gave her up for adoption ten years ago. Peyton and Azriel — her adoptive parents — were supposed to be in Aspen on a long-overdue anniversary trip.
I guess that’s not happening this year.
Biting back a bitter laugh, my fingers tighten around the phone as Peyton’s words filter through. My eyes drift to the framed photograph on my desk. It’s of Aurora at her last piano recital, her small fingers poised over the keys, her face a mirror of my own intense concentration. My irritation fades, replaced by a familiar ache that blooms in my chest.
“I really am sorry, Odette,” Peyton says, her tone genuinely remorseful. “We didn’t expect my parents to suddenly change their minds like this.”
I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. “No, I get it. It’s... it’s good that they’re finally coming around. And Paris is Paris. That’s huge for her.”
The words feel like gravel in my mouth, but I know they’re true.
Ten years.
It’s taken Peyton’s parents an entire decade to accept Aurora as their granddaughter.
It’s been thirty-one years, and my own grandparents still won’t acknowledge me. They barely tolerated my existence when Mom was alive and stopped pretending altogether when she died ten years ago. I haven’t seen them since the reading of Mom’s will, and the fact that we live on different continents makes it that much easier for me to pretend they don’t exist either.
“They’ve been so stubborn for so long,” Peyton continues, oblivious to my internal turmoil. “The timing is less than ideal, and a tad suspicious if I’m being honest. It’s been ten years since we adopted Aurora, so when they called last night and said they wanted to meet their granddaughter... well, Azriel and I couldn’t believe it. They’re pushing for a big holiday celebration with the whole family, and with Azriel’s work schedule easing up, we figured we’d take the chance. Either they’re serious about meeting their granddaughter and making up for lost time, or else…”
Their granddaughter.
I can almost see Peyton smiling on the other end of the line as she envisions her family in front of the Eiffel Tower, all wearing coordinated Christmas sweaters or something equally Hallmark-worthy. Meanwhile, I’ll be here, as I am every year, alone in my apartment. It stings a little more this time, though, because this was supposed to be my year with Aurora.
And yet, I can’t be angry. It’s not like I haven’t had time with her over the years. Peyton and Azriel have always been generous about visits, birthdays, and phone calls. They’ve always been transparent with Aurora about who I am to her. She’s theirs legally, but she’s always known that she has three parents who love and cherish her unconditionally.
But this Christmas was going to be different. For once, it would’ve been just Aurora and me, no awkward dinners or pretending to be jolly for the benefit of others.
My eyelids drift closed as I picture the look on Aurora’s face when they tell her tonight. Will she be excited about Paris? Or will she be disappointed about our canceled plans?
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I understand. Really, I do. Besides, Aurora’s never been to Paris. She’ll probably love it.”
“We hope so. You know how she is about the holidays, though. She’s just like you.”
A ghost of a smile tugs at my lips. Aurora inherited my disdain for Christmas, along with my musical talent and unruly auburn curls. She inherited her father’s eyes, though. It’s too bad that I still have no idea who he is, even though I dream about him more often than I care to admit.
“Yeah, well. Maybe the change of scenery will be good for her,” I offer, surprising myself with how much I mean it.
Peyton is quiet for a beat, and then her voice softens. “Odette, I know this hasn’t always been easy. Just as I know you always put Aurora first, even at the expense of your own happiness.”
I swallow hard, fighting back a sudden wave of emotion. “She’s my daughter, even if I’m not?—”
“You are her mother,” Peyton interjects, her voice firm. “You’ve always been her mother in all the ways that matter. Azriel and I have never forgotten that. We will never take that for granted.”
Her words twist something in my chest, and I blink back the tears that threaten to fall. This open adoption has been a delicate dance for all of us, but moments like these remind me why we keep trying. Because, at the end of the day, I want Aurora to have the life I never had. One filled with love, joy, laughter, and acceptance. Even if she is a Christmas Grinch like I am.
“Thank you, Peyton. That means a lot.” And it does, more than I can express.
“Let’s get together and do something special upon our return,” she promises. “Maybe a belated Christmas celebration, just the four of us?”
The thought brings a genuine smile to my face, a small comfort amidst the disappointment. “I’d like that.”
“Aurora should be home from her piano lesson any minute now. I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you about all this. Would it be okay if I have her call you tonight?”
Since when does Peyton ask?
I glance at the clock on my computer screen, and it reads 4:45 P.M.
“She can call or text me anytime. I’ll always answer.” A beat passes, then, “Perhaps you should put a time limit on her phone usage tonight. Chloe will be over tonight, and you know how hard it is to pry those two off the phone.”
Peyton’s amused chuckle filters through. “Thirty minutes it is.”
The Hartley twins — Chloe and Caleb — are my best friends. We were roommates during my senior year at the University of Chicago, and for some reason that unlikely friendship stuck, even though the odds were stacked against us from the get-go. Back then, we lived in off-campus housing. They were in grad school while I was a senior, and I don’t think they were thrilled to have a very pregnant roommate in the beginning. I don’t think they fully understood my decision to give up Aurora or to be as involved as I am in her life, even though hers was an open adoption. But they respected it nonetheless. It was surprising that they did, considering the fact that they are estranged from their own father.
Then again, if there’s one thing this has taught me, it’s that family doesn’t have to be blood-related.
Family is, and always will be, what you make it.
I nod again, even though Peyton cannot see me. “I’ll shave off five minutes on my end, just so we cover all our bases.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” There’s a brief pause, then she adds, “We’ll make sure she calls you before we board the jet tomorrow morning, okay? I promise.” Her voice is soft and apologetic yet full of warmth and gratitude. “I know she was excited about spending time with you, too. And she’ll be worried that you’re spending it alone.”
“I know.” My gaze shifts to the grand piano in the corner, and I swallow hard. The prospect of playing by myself during the holidays is just as depressing. “I’ll figure something else out. And I’ll remind her that it’s our job to worry about her, not the other way around.”
“Yeah, let me know how that goes. Merry Christmas, Odette.”
“Merry Christmas, Peyton.”
I hang up before she can say anything else, and the phone slips from my fingers, landing on the carpet with a dull thud.
Worst holiday ever.