Morwenna looked at her mother. “What else? What can I get? What can I do?”
“Drinks,” her mother said, setting the bowl with the linguini on the table. “Take a tally. Kids, are you having juice? What would you like?”
They were all startled when Genevieve answered with a little sniff. “I would like Mommy to be here,” she said.
The adults froze. Connor placed his arm around his sister. “She’s on a trip. We’ll see her again soon,” he said.
Morwenna dived in quickly, not wanting Shayne to say anything. She knew he couldn’t understand what had happened to his marriage, and that he didn’t intend to hurt the kids. He also couldn’t help but be bitter.
“I’ll bet she’ll come back with great and wonderful gifts!” Morwenna said, walking around to hug Genevieve. “So, until then, what will you have to drink?”
“Can we have soda, Dad?” Connor asked.
“It’s Christmas Eve, why not?” Shayne told his son. Morwenna caught her brother’s eyes. He smiled at her; he was not going to make a disparaging remark about his ex-wife. Something about him seemed to have changed, just since he’d gotten to the house. Maybe he’d had a long talk with Bobby upstairs.
“Two sodas … Bobby? Soda, beer, wine?”
“Hey, it’s my first ‘legal’ Christmas. Please serve me a lovely glass of Cabernet,” Bobby said. “And Dad can’t even get arrested, or call the cops himself, because I am legal these days!”
“I’d have myself arrested?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, I think you would, Dad. In the name of justice for all!” He laughed. “My dad may be the best assistant D.A. in the country. I think he would have himself arrested under the innkeeper law,” he told Gabe.
Mike groaned. “You were underage—you and your friends. It’s illegal for an adult to aid a young person in securing alcoholic beverages. Now you are twenty-one. Go for it.”
“Tough to grow up in such a household,” Shayne told Gabe.
“Not so bad. We just decided to smoke pot, since everything was illegal for us,” Bobby said cheerfully.
Mike looked as if he would explode.
“Chill, Dad, chill, just kidding!” Bobby said.
“An honest man. Rare to find,” Gabe said. He had a curious expression. “I think I’d like a beer, if I may. Sounds intriguing—um, good, sorry. Sounds good.”
The seeds of mistrust settled more deeply into Morwenna’s soul. Intriguing? Beer? Where the hell had this guy been? Locked up somewhere?
“Mom, Dad, Shayne?” Morwenna asked.
In the end, she had two caffeine-free sodas, four glasses of wine and two bottles of beer. She moved into the kitchen to get the drinks, and found herself pausing to look around.
And feel guilty.
Stacy even cleaned while she cooked. With all that she had prepared, her mother had kept up with pots and other utensils as well. She had done so much; every year she did so much. She’d always been an at-home mom. Morwenna wondered if she had ever had her own set of dreams, and if their father’s career had changed Stacy’s life. She’d always cooked breakfast, made lunches, driven the children to Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts and Little League, sewn costumes, bought the candy, gone trick-or-treating and done everything imaginable.
Stacy followed her into the kitchen. “I’ll get the sodas,” she said. “If you pour the wine.”
“Mom, why don’t you just sit, and let me do this.”
“Are you kidding? I’m in my element, sweetheart. And we don’t get days like these often anymore—you know, when I have all of you!”
Morwenna walked to the counter where her mother was pouring the sodas. She slipped her arms around her waist. “Mom, did you ever want to really do anything? I mean, you know, have a career—do something else besides wait on Dad and all of us?”
Stacy turned to stare at her, her eyes wide. “Morwenna, this is my career, my life.”
“But, did Dad stop you from having any other dreams? Now would be the time to fulfill a dream. It’s never too late, you know.”
She was surprised; she was trying to stand up for her mother, and her mother was angry. “You get it out of your head that your father stopped me from doing anything. Because of your father, I could live my dream, I could have this career.”
“But we’re gone now, Mom. We’re all gone, out of the house, grown up.”
“And that means you’re not my children anymore?”
“But Dad pushed me so hard to make sure that I had a career—” Morwenna began.
Stacy quickly cut her off. “Your father pushed you, yes, because you needed more. And because the world is changing. Now two people have to work sometimes in order to afford to raise a family. I guess you don’t understand. You have all your sleek, chic clothing, designer briefcases and all-important meetings. And I concentrate on making sure a roast is edible. But, Morwenna, don’t try to fix me. I like what I am, and I like what I do, and there are ups and downs in life all the time, but I’m happy. Maybe your ex-sister-in-law is the only one who really knows that, since she made sure that the kids came here for Christmas. The only one who appreciates family, it seems, is the one no longer in the family!”
Morwenna didn’t have a chance to respond; Stacy expertly balanced the four wineglasses and seemed to sail out of the kitchen, her head held regally high.
“I wanted to draw!” she said, aware that her mother couldn’t hear her. “I wanted to draw, and paint, and create things!”
She hesitated, aware that, supposedly, the job she had taken would allow her to do just that. But she had become a stereotype of corporate America instead.
“I like my clothes!” she told the swinging door.
She tucked two bottles of beer under her arm, picked up the sodas and followed Stacy back to the dinner table.
“Ah, Morwenna is here now. We can say grace,” Stacy said.
Mike stood and looked around the table. “Thank you, Lord, for the food we are about to eat. Thank you for the safety and lives of our family. Amen.”
“Nice,” Gabe commented.
“Better than the old joke, eh, of just saying ‘Grace’!” Bobby teased.
“We know better than to give the task to you, son,” Mike said, but he was grinning.
“Wait!” Genevieve said. “Wait, Gram, please! Can we do that thing that Mommy’s family does?”
They all looked at her. Genevieve grinned and stood up. She took Bobby’s hand and reached for her brother’s.
“Ah, Genevieve, what are you doing?” Connor demanded.
“Give me your hand, Connor. I don’t have any cooties!” Genevieve said.
Connor shrugged and gave her his hand. “This is just silly. Mom isn’t here.”
“Hey, your sister wants to have your mom here—in spirit,” Shayne said. “And let’s all try to make each other happy, huh?”
Genevieve grinned happily. “Okay, everybody, now, shake a lot of love!”
Around the table, they held hands, and on Genevieve’s command, they all shook their hands up and down.
“Now,” Genevieve said complacently, “it’s almost kind of Christmas!”
“They don’t even really know what day Christmas