her ear and shoulder, put on her oven mitt and opened the oven. A plume of smoke wafted out to greet her, stinging her eyes and making her cough. She pulled out the cookie sheet with her blackened gingerbread boys. Eeew.
A moment later the smoke alarm went off.
“What’s happening?” Toni asked.
“I burned my cookies. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Try not to burn down the condo before you get it rented,” Toni teased, and hung up.
Jen grabbed a towel and flapped it in the direction of the smoke detector, all the while scolding herself for forgetting to set the timer. Finally, the noise subsided. “Well, you guys are history,” she informed the ruined cookies.
Maybe, if she was lucky, her life here would soon be history, too.
Taking a hard look at the changes we need to make can be harder than actually making those changes.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
Toni loved Christmas Eve. It was the one occasion when she could count on seeing her extended family. They all poured into her mother’s house in West Seattle—grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, second cousins. Even Santa (her crazy uncle Dave) made an appearance, and everyone got to sit on his lap and receive a present.
“Do I have to have my picture taken with Santa this year?” Jordan demanded as Wayne parked their SUV in front of the house.
“Of course you do,” Toni said. “We all do.”
“Dumb,” Jordan muttered.
“If you want a present you’ll have to be dumb,” Toni said.
“The present’ll probably be dumb, too.”
She hadn’t complained about last year’s present—the world’s largest collection of lip gloss. And Toni knew for a fact that this year Aunt Jana had gotten Jordan an iTunes gift card. “If you’re going to be a party pooper, then I’ll sit on Santa’s lap and take your present. I know what it is.”
That worked. “I’ll do it,” her daughter said, but she managed to sound grudging all the same.
Toni hid her smile. It was never good to gloat when you won a victory over a child, especially one who was now officially a teenager.
“Me, too,” said Jeffrey, who wasn’t above a little humiliation if there was a present waiting at the end of it.
As always, her mother’s house said Christmas, with icicle lights hanging from the roofline and a wreath on the door. Toni could hear raucous laughter and Christmas music even before they let themselves in.
They hung their coats in the hall closet and then went into the living room where Toni’s uncle Dennis was saying, “No, I swear it’s true.”
That explained the laughter. Her uncle had told some preposterous story. At the sight of her and her family, he broke into a grin. “Well, look who’s here.” He demanded hugs from both kids, told Jordan she was getting way too pretty and then enveloped Toni in a big bear hug. Uncle Dennis was a large man and his hugs were almost suffocating, but, next to her father’s, they were the best.
“Guess you got stuck with us again this year,” he greeted her husband.
“Afraid so,” Wayne said with a smile, shaking her uncle’s hand.
“Hello, princess,” her father greeted her. He kissed her forehead and took in her slacks, black sweater and jauntily draped red scarf. “You’re looking lovely today.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” she said. Nice someone noticed. Wayne sure hadn’t. He’d been too busy being one with his computer.
Okay, she told herself, so what if Wayne didn’t notice your outfit? Big deal. He’s still a good man who works hard to provide for his family. The computer is not your competition.
Although sometimes she felt as if it were. Even when he wasn’t working, he was on it half the evening, surfing the web. He always had energy for the computer, but when his wife wanted to go out...
Oh, there she went again. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault he’d gotten sick the day they were supposed to have their romantic dinner. She’d come home from her Icicle Falls adventure to find he’d taken some cold medicine and gone to bed.
And fallen asleep with his arms around his iPad. Sheesh.
Stop it, she scolded herself. It’s Christmas. Don’t be a bitch.
She deposited her gifts under the tree and went to the kitchen to check in with her mother. Her aunt Karen, resplendent in a Christmas sweater with dancing polar bears, gave her a kiss in passing as she took the standing rib roast out to the dining table. Aunt Aggie, her favorite aunt, hugged her and popped an olive in her mouth, then followed Aunt Karen out, bearing a divided glass bowl filled with olives and pickles in one hand and a pitcher of milk in the other. Over at the sink, Jen was whipping cream for the night’s big dessert—mint chocolate sundaes, with Christmas cookies—and called a cheery hello.
Toni felt a momentary twinge of guilt. She was usually the one helping in the kitchen. If they’d gotten out of the house on time, she would’ve been, but Wayne had found it necessary to work and was still sending emails long past four, when they would normally have left.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she’d reminded him—repeatedly.
“I know,” he’d said, “and most of us have to work the day of Christmas Eve.”
Okay, she’d thought, but you’d better not be working on Christmas.
She made the rounds, hugging everyone. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not late. You’re right on time,” her mother assured her, offering her cheek for a kiss.
“What can I do?”
“I think we’ve got it all under control,” Mom said.
But she always helped. She couldn’t just do...nothing.
As if reading her mind, her mother added, “How about dishing up the mashed potatoes?” She pulled the gravy pan off the burner. “Gravy’s done. You can dish that up, too. Then I’ll take out the roasted vegetables and the seafood lasagna and we’ll be good to go.”
In a matter of minutes the food was on the table. The revelers were summoned and everyone gathered around and waited for her father to say grace.
“Well,” he said, smiling at each of them, “here we are, all together for another Christmas. Some of us have faced challenges this past year.”
Toni smiled encouragingly at her cousin Jimmy, who’d lost his job three months earlier and was still looking for employment. She glanced over at Aunt Aggie, wearing what she called her half-and-half bra—one half held a real breast, the other a prosthetic breast
