Mount Rushmore. After we annihilated my mother’s team, we switched it up next time, no spouses or partners on the same side, and turned the easels back to back so we couldn’t see what the other team was doing. When we were all stumped, we turned our drawings so the other team could see.
“Oh,” Jeremiah yelped, seeing mine. “Bruce Lee.”
“Yes,” Courtney snapped at him, gesturing at my board. “How do you see that?”
“Well, there’s a dragon walking in a door,” my father answered his third-born child, “and the arrow is pointing at the dragon, so the name of the dragon, or, in the case, the star of the movie.” He glanced at me. “That’s very good.”
I waggled my eyebrows at my sister, who growled in return.
We declined dessert, as well as more games, explaining that if we were expected tomorrow before the gathering horde, they needed to let us go. It was nice when everyone hugged the man in my life goodbye, but I wasn’t at all surprised that my mother was conveniently out in the yard when it was time for us to leave. What was different this time was, while I hadn’t liked it when she did it to Troy, I understood. Now, as we left, I was mad.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jeremiah asked, holding my hand as we walked toward my Toyota RAV4. “Everybody liked me. Why aren’t you doing cartwheels?”
“I––”
“Wait!”
We both turned, and there was my mother, rushing down the path from her front door toward us and stopping in front of Jeremiah. She had to have run from where she’d been, in her garden, to reach us.
“I didn’t realize you two were leaving. I was out on poop patrol with the dogs.”
He chuckled, and she smiled, and when he opened his arms for her, she stepped forward and they were hugging. It was nice how he bent so she could wrap her arms around his neck, and she didn’t put space between them, but instead embraced him like she did the rest of her children. I glanced away, wiped at the tears that had welled up surprisingly fast, and was looking at them again as she murmured things into his hair.
He nodded, and she said, “Good,” loud enough for me to hear, and then let him go, only to turn, give me a quick clutch, and dart back toward the house. Only then did I notice she wasn’t wearing shoes.
“Your mother has paint swatches and a mood board she wants to show you before you redecorate the house, and I quote—” He paused dramatically for effect. “—go at it all willy-nilly.”
“Is that right?”
“I would never lie about something like that.”
I took a breath. “What else did she say?”
“Just that she was glad I came, and she was looking forward to spending more time with me tomorrow.”
Never, ever had she wanted anything to do with Troy Fortney, and she’d known him for years. Jeremiah had been in her house a handful of hours, and she wanted to sit with him. I was more than a bit overwhelmed.
In the car, my phone chirped, and I had a text message from my buddy Mike that said he and Talia couldn’t make it to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving, but he would like to invite me and Jeremiah to have dinner on Friday night.
“I have to meet your best friend,” Jeremiah insisted, starting the car. “Tell him yes.”
I was very excited about that.
On the way home, I got several more texts, and Jeremiah asked me what was with all the pinging.
“It’s nothing, just the usual drinks at a lounge near our office before the holiday.”
“Are you supposed to be at something tonight?”
“No, it’s nothing,” I assured him.
“If I weren’t here, would you go?”
I groaned. “In years past, I’ve gone before I eat with my folks. I use that as an excuse to leave early.”
“So it’s a work thing, and you’re supposed to show up for it, however briefly.”
“You could say that, yes.”
“But not this year?”
“No, and please believe me when I say it doesn’t matter. Plus, it’s almost forty minutes one way to drive into the city from here.”
“Yeah, but––”
“And it’s nearly ten o’clock, so anybody who’s still there is only there to get drunk.”
“But I’m guessing your firm pays for this, like it pays for an annual Christmas party.”
“We don’t call it a Christmas party, it’s a Holiday Soiree, or sometimes a Winter Celebration, even though Bev Thurman in legal said that Winter Celebration sounded like druids or