lid with the sense of relief one got from defusing a bomb. This stay-at-home-dad stuff was really messing with his mind.
“That’s better. Mads, keep that down, would you?”
She aimed the remote at her brothers and pretended to lower their volume. Silent sarcasm. A bit of silence was exactly what he wanted, except from Maddie. He’d change a hundred stench-drenched diapers if it meant she’d say something. Anything, other than the sounds of crying or the shrill, closed-mouth scream she did when she’d been pushed too far.
He had no doubt the parent-teacher conference he had to leave for in a few hours was going to be about just that. Again. The school nurse had shown him Maddie’s handwritten note. One word: headache. They all knew there was more to it. Frustration twisted the muscles in his shoulders, and he cranked his neck to the side.
“Yeah, I get it,” he said to Maddie. “Chad, pick up some of these toys before Grandma gets here. A dime a dunk.”
He was not above bribery. After Zoe was killed, one of the school moms had stopped to check on him in the parking lot and had begun spewing advice. She’d assured him that bribery was a parent’s secret weapon. Everyone used it. Not everyone admitted to it.
Chad immediately began tossing toys into the giant wicker basket by the couch. Unfortunately, each dunk came with a creative sound effect, and his four-year-old had gifted lungs. Maddie slammed a second pillow over her ear as she zoned out in front of the TV.
Ben grabbed a chewable and slobber-proof picture book, gave it to Ryan and set his bouncy seat near Maddie. Yes, he’d resorted to the television babysitter a couple of times, but all those colors had to have some visual-stimulation benefits. Right?
“I’ll tell you what, man. How about you help me inflate a bed? You can push the button on the pump motor. It’s really loud.”
A superhero landed headfirst on the floor near the basket. Ouch.
“How loud?” Chad asked, wrapping one knee around the other as though he was holding it in.
“Jet-fighter loud.” Anything loud served as bribery with this kid.
“Like this?” The ensuing screech from Chad had Maddie pounding the pillow on her ear, Ryan whimpering and Ben wincing. It wasn’t going to take long for this Hope person to flee to Nina’s house.
“How about you go use the bathroom and meet me in your room to find out?”
“Okay!”
At least getting Chad in a different room would give Maddie some peace.
The doorbell rang, sending Ben’s nerves prickling up his spine like a row of merciless fire ants, a reaction that hadn’t subsided since Zoe’s death.
He rolled his shoulders and went to let Nina in. He’d specifically told her he’d leave the door unlocked, but apparently she’d forgotten.
He found her standing there with a big cardboard box in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I had to use my elbow on the doorbell. This box is a little heavy,” Nina said as she bustled past him. His nose twitched from an ambush of fruity hairspray.
Ben took the box from her and escaped to the kitchen. Nina made a beeline for the baby, after hanging her coat on the wooden rack by the door.
“So what’s in the box?” Ben said, closing his laptop and stacking his notes on top, then setting them in the cabinet under the microwave. Zoe’s mother did not need to see any of it.
“Oh, just some holiday decorations Zoe had stored in our basement because your garage was getting too full. I put a tin of chocolate-chip cookies on top. Go ahead and pull it out so you don’t forget,” she said. She unclipped Ryan and hugged him close to her shoulder, then slathered him with kisses and singsong words Ben couldn’t make out.
He pulled a red tin decorated with elves and snowflakes out of the box, noted the rest of the contents and quickly slapped the flaps of cardboard back in place.
“Not happening,” he said.
“Shh. Maddie’s asleep on the couch,” Nina said, turning off the TV and walking into the kitchen with Ryan in her arms. Her lips tightened. “Zoe’s favorite thing to do was to decorate the weekend after Thanksgiving. That’s in just over a week.”
“It’s not happening this year, Nina, so feel free to keep the decorations.” He carried the box back to the entryway and set it under the coatrack so that it wouldn’t be forgotten. She followed him.
“Let the kids have some fun, Ben. It could cheer Maddie up.”
He looked at the half-tidied living room.
“I’d say they’re having plenty of fun already. And no, I don’t think it’ll cheer Maddie up. We’re not decorating this year. They can enjoy the decorations at your house. But not here.”
“You told me yourself that Maddie’s counselor said to make as few changes as possible so as not to stress her more. Not letting her go through the holidays like she always did would be a mistake. One that she might not recover from.”
A direct hit. Nina and Zoe’s father, Eric, were known in the community for opening their hearts and home to others. Years ago they’d adopted Zoe’s younger brother Jack after he’d lost his parents to drug overdoses. And they’d even accepted Ben—albeit reluctantly—when Zoe had brought him home from college and announced that they were getting married. Ben had always wondered if Nina harbored a nugget of resentment toward him, believing he’d triggered Zoe’s decision to quit college to raise Maddie. Even if had really been Zoe’s call. Nina was a fiercely protective woman, and ever since Zoe died, she’d directed those energies at her grandkids. As if they didn’t have a dad, or at least one whose parenting methods and choices she agreed with.
He got the message loud and clear every time. She’d been around his kids over the years more than he had. She knew them better. He looked back toward the bedroom hallway. Empty. Chad had either taken himself to do number two in the bathroom, or was trying to pull the inflatable bed out of its box. As long as no little ears were sticking around the corner...
“Nina. You know how grateful I am for all you’ve done over the years—being there for Zoe and the kids, being here for us, helping me, especially with Ryan, over the past seven months. But with all due respect, this is my home, and they have a father. No decorating this year.”
“But Zoe would—”
“Exactly. This was her thing. She decorated for Christmas. And she’s not here. Out of respect for her, it’s not happening. What my kids need is to get through the rest of this year without any more pressure or sympathy or attention that does nothing but remind them of losing their mother. The stuff in this box will only emphasize what they don’t have anymore.”
Nina’s chin and brow rose simultaneously, and she turned her back to him. She carried Ryan, who was half-asleep and drooling like a pro on her shoulder, and laid him on his back in the playpen occupying the corner of the family room. End of conversation. Good.
Ben glanced at his watch. He hurried to check on Chad and found him on the potty buck naked and humming. Or was that moaning? And at what age was he going to stop stripping
