the window of other people’s lives and envy them. She’d been too busy building her own.
The conviction that she’d made all the wrong choices hadn’t gone away as she’d slowly started to recover. If anything, it had grown stronger.
She poured herself a glass of water and drank it slowly. Her phone told her that she’d had twenty-four missed calls from the office, but she felt no urgency to return any of them.
Why was that?
Maybe for the same reason she’d just spent a fortune in a toy store.
She was floating in a strange place between her old life and a new life.
By the time the delivery arrived from the toy store, she’d recovered a little, which was just as well, because the bags and boxes kept coming until her apartment was piled high.
Had she really ordered so much? What was she going to do with it all when tea was over? What if they didn’t want to spend Christmas with her, despite her efforts to show them she could change?
She stared at the bags and boxes, wondering where to start. Fortunately she’d never been afraid of hard work.
The tree. She’d start with the tree.
Rolling up her sleeves, she started work and she worked for four hours straight, pausing once to eat a yogurt from the fridge.
Finally she was finished, and she stared in wonder at her transformed apartment. The acres of glass which usually gave a minimalist feel, now reflected all the tiny lights she’d strung around her bookshelves and the tree itself. Under the tree were stacks of gifts in all shapes and sizes, wrapped in shiny paper and tied with bows.
Gayle collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted but satisfied.
Who said she couldn’t do Christmas? This, hopefully, would be all the evidence Samantha and Eleanor would need to see that she was genuine in her desire to spend the holidays with them.
There would be no recriminations. No mentions of the past. At least, not from her.
She was going to focus on the present and the future.
Her granddaughter.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Had she done enough?
There was just one more thing she needed to do.
Ignoring the throb in her head, she reached for her laptop.
Samantha
“Will there be cake?” Tab danced along, joyous, hand in hand with Ella and Michael as they crossed the street.
“Unlikely.” It was Ella who answered.
“Cookies?”
“Equally unlikely.”
“Nanna doesn’t eat?”
“She doesn’t eat sweet things.”
“Why?”
“Because not everyone does.”
“Why don’t they?”
Back and forth, back and forth, like a game of tennis. What? Why? When? How?
Samantha listened in awe as Ella tried tactfully to prepare Tab for the reality of tea with their mother. Where did her sister find her patience? Samantha adored Tab, but after five minutes of question tennis, she was done.
Enough, she wanted to yell. Time-out.
Her own deficiencies in patience made her wonder if perhaps she wasn’t cut out to be a mother. Did she even want children?
Ella was still talking to Tab. “Nanna’s apartment isn’t designed for children, so you have to be very good and very careful. No running around. No hiding.”
“Why?”
“Because you might break something.”
“Would that make her angry and shouty?”
Ella shook her head. “No. Nanna doesn’t get angry. I’ve never heard her shout.”
Michael was quiet, and Samantha wondered what he was thinking. This whole situation must be strange for him, too.
The conversation continued, back and forth until they reached the apartment building where Gayle now lived.
Samantha glanced at her sister and Ella gave her a weak smile. They were both thinking the same thing. That the last time they’d come here, the visit hadn’t ended well.
At some point they were going to have to discuss it. An explosion that big, particularly one that had caused a major rift in family relations, couldn’t be ignored forever.
Tabitha craned her neck, looking at the entrance of Central Park. “Can we go for a ride in the horse carriage?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s for tourists.”
“What’s a tourist?”
“Someone who doesn’t live here but comes for a visit.”
“We don’t live here.”
Samantha wondered how her sister wasn’t crushed with exhaustion. Tab’s questions were endless, but so was her enthusiasm and her charm, fully on display as she delivered a megawatt smile to the doorman.
“I’m visiting my grandmother.”
“And where does your grandmother live?” He played his part well, and moments later they were standing outside Gayle’s apartment.
“Remember what I said,” Ella muttered in an undertone. “Don’t touch anything.”
Tab was almost vibrating with excitement, the gift she’d insisted on wrapping herself clutched to her chest. “Will there be a Christmas tree?”
“No. Nanna doesn’t really celebrate the holidays.”