In A Holidaze - Christina Lauren Page 0,7

he can barely lift a cup to his mouth because he did so many push-ups yesterday.

Now Kyle turns and surveys the room. “What’s with the weird vibe?” he asks, taking his usual seat.

“Well, I’ve got an idea,” Andrew says with a wide grin at his brother, and I almost choke on my coffee. Benny flicks his ear.

Finally, Theo’s eyes swing to mine and then guiltily away.

That’s right, jackass, I’m right here.

Ricky clears his throat before taking Lisa’s hand. Oh my God. Do they know, too? If Lisa tells my parents, my mom will be naming her grandchildren before we’re even out of the driveway.

“Maybe it’s us,” Ricky says slowly. “Lisa and I have some news.”

It’s the small, nervous quiver in his voice that catches my frayed pulse and sends it hammering in a different direction. Is Lisa’s melanoma back?

Suddenly, a bad mudroom hookup feels like very small potatoes.

Ricky picks up the platter of bacon and gets it moving around the table. Lisa does the same with the casserole. But no one takes anything. Instead, we all vacantly pass the dishes around, unwilling to commit to eating until we know what level of devastation we’re facing.

“Business is fine,” Ricky reassures us, looking at each of our faces. “And no one is sick. So it isn’t that, don’t worry.”

We exhale collectively, but then I see Dad instinctively place his hand over Mom’s, and that’s when I know. There’s only one thing we value as much as we value each other’s health.

“But this cabin, see, it’s old,” Ricky says. “It’s old and seems to need something new each month.”

A hot tangle forms in my chest.

“We wanted to let you know that we sure do hope we can continue spending the holidays together, just like we have for the last thirty years or so.” He takes the full bacon platter as it comes back to him and gently sets it down, untouched. We all remain still, even Aaron and Kyle’s five-year-old twins—Kennedy with her legs tucked to her chest, a dirty Care Bears Band-Aid still clinging valiantly to her scabbed knee, and Zachary clutching his sister’s arm— dreading what we all know is coming next: “But we’ll have to figure out a new plan. Lisa and I have decided that we’re selling the cabin.”

chapter three

Cue the most depressing music ever. I’d prefer that, actually, to the morbid silence in the rental car as Mom, Dad, Miles, and I make our way down the snow-dusted gravel driveway to the main road.

Mom cries quietly in the passenger seat. Dad’s hands fidget on the steering wheel like he’s not sure where to put them. I think he wants to comfort her, but he looks like he could use some comfort of his own. If it feels like the cabin means everything to me, it’s nothing compared to the memories they must have. They came here as newlyweds, brought me and Miles as babies.

“Mom.” I lean forward, putting my hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll still see everyone next year.”

Her quiet sobs turn into a wail, and Dad grinds the steering wheel in his grip. They divorced after nearly a quarter century of marriage; the cabin is the only place they get along anymore. It’s the only place they’ve ever gotten along, really. Lisa is Mom’s closest friend; Ricky, Aaron, and Benny are Dad’s only friends outside of the hospital. Dad was willing to forfeit the house, primary custody of Miles, and a chunk of his income every month, but he was unwilling to give up Christmas at the cabin. Mom held her ground, too. Victor’s daughters were thrilled to be able to keep their time with their dad, and we’ve somehow managed to maintain a fragile peace. Is that going to last if we have to go somewhere new, without any happy memories or nostalgic anchors?

I glance at my brother and wonder what it must be like to float through life so happily oblivious. He’s got his headphones on and is mildly bopping along to something perky and optimistic.

“I didn’t want to fall apart in front of Lisa,” Mom hiccups, digging in her purse for a Kleenex. “She was so devastated, couldn’t you see it, Dan?”

“I—well, yes,” he hedges, “but she was probably also relieved to have made the hard decision.”

“No, no. This is awful.” Mom blows her nose. “Oh, my poor friend.”

I reach over and flick Miles’s ear.

He flinches away from me. “What the hell?”

I tilt my head toward our mother, as