felt an unusual sense of kinship. “Why don’t you sit down, Mary? Join me.”
“I shouldn’t.” Mary paused. “Brodie probably wouldn’t approve.”
“He’s not here, and we are. Also, our children can’t have everything their own way, however old they are. Please.” Gayle waved a hand toward the door. “I have no idea where my daughter has gone, and I don’t want to eat breakfast alone. If anyone complains, you can blame me.”
Everyone else seemed to blame her for everything, so more blame would barely register.
The thought annoyed her.
Since when had she been so self-pitying? That wasn’t the way she operated. She looked at the facts and did what she could. It was like opening the fridge and making a meal based on the ingredients available.
“I think she was talking to my daughter. I hope Kirstie doesn’t say something she shouldn’t. Was she rude to you?”
“Rude?” How honest should she be? “Not rude at all. She looked—”
“Miserable?”
“Serious. As if she has a lot on her mind.”
“She does, but I’m worried she’s going to scare away the guests. I think Brodie is afraid of that, too. She’s struggling with this new direction for our family. All she wants is to be outdoors with the reindeer. The fact that she isn’t is my fault, although it’s poor Brodie that she’s blaming.”
“Why is it your fault?” Gayle hoped Ella wouldn’t join them in the next few minutes. Talking with Mary had eased the tension that had been with her for the past month. “Pour yourself a cup of that delicious coffee. Join me. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
Mary poured one and topped up Gayle’s cup. Then she sat down in the chair next to Gayle. She was poised on the edge, as if she wasn’t quite committed to staying. “I shouldn’t be talking to you like this.”
“Talking can help.” She was glad Ella wasn’t around to hear that. Given the conversation they’d had, she’d no doubt add hypocrisy to the never-ending list of Gayle’s sins. “And sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.”
“That’s true. I’m always acting a part around the children. I don’t want them to know how bad I feel, because then they’ll feel bad. So I put my best smile on with my dress in the mornings. Have you ever done that?”
Gayle thought about all the things her children didn’t know about her. “Many times.”
“It’s part of being a parent, isn’t it? You’re the support, not the supported. The only time I allow myself to cry is in the shower and the kitchen because I can hide it there.”
“How do you hide in the kitchen?” Gayle had visions of Mary crouched under the table, howling into a napkin.
“I don’t hide myself, but I can hide tears. I chop a lot of onions.” Mary fiddled with her cup. “Onion soup, onion gravy—onions in everything. They’re a marvelous cover-up for red, watering eyes.”
“I’d never thought of that.” Gayle didn’t cry. And generally she didn’t have to hide her emotions because she lived alone. She wasn’t wrapped up in her children’s lives the way Mary seemed to be. But she wanted to be. She thought about Tab’s happy smile, and how much fun they’d had building that snowman. “Why do you think it’s your fault that Kirstie is struggling?”
“Because I’m supportive of Brodie’s idea of opening our home to guests. I think it’s a good way to solve our financial difficulties, but Kirstie feels as if it’s a betrayal. She thinks there must be a different way. Wants a magic bullet. But life isn’t like that, is it?”
“No. And people are generally afraid of change, even though sometimes it can be good.”
If it weren’t for the fact that the past few weeks had shaken her faith in her own beliefs, she would have given Mary a copy of her book.
“You’re right, and the truth is sometimes we have no choice but to change. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to stay here.”
“Your daughter doesn’t feel the same?”
“Kirstie is upset with her brother for even contemplating allowing strangers into our home. Film crews. TV. He’s thinking about doing weeks for hikers, and weeks for artists, writers and musicians.” Mary smiled. “He’s a mathematician. Very clever. When he was a teenager, the school used to tell me that they’d never taught a pupil with a mind like his. And he’s musical. Plays the cello and the piano. But his creativity stops there. Trying to come up with solutions that aren’t numerical is half killing