Marriage Matters - By Cynthia Ellingsen Page 0,159
stockings,” Chloe said. Getting up from her chair, she walked over to touch them. They were crushed red velvet with iron-on patches of Santa and his elves in the workshop. Each family member’s name was neatly embroidered at the top. This year, June had ordered one for Charley.
As Chloe touched her father’s stocking, she gave June a questioning look. June sniffed, lifting her chin. “Your father is a member of this family, whether everyone in this room believes it or not.”
Kristine sighed. She looked out the window as though contemplating an escape.
“Don’t even think about it,” June told her. “Or I’ll fill your stocking with coal.”
Kristine shook her head and gave a tiny smile.
Reaching for a meatball from her tiny hors d’oeuvre plate, June wondered if this would be the last year they would uphold their Christmas Eve tradition. Charley had a place in Naples that he migrated to when the snow hit. He mentioned that it might be nice to spend the winters down there, together.
The idea of wintering in Florida was certainly something to consider. June had never dreamed she’d live anywhere other than Chicago, but Charley made Naples sound so lovely. It might be nice to get vitamin C from fresh oranges, learn more about that frustrating game of golf and, of course, start a tropical garden. But if Kristine did not resolve her marital problems, June couldn’t leave her all alone.
“Are you excited about our wedding, my love?” Charley was sitting next to her on the couch, his feet up on the ottoman and his hands wrapped around a mug of mulled wine. Placing it on a reindeer coaster, he put a comforting arm around June.
June thought for a moment. “I’m disappointed,” she said simply.
Kristine ducked her head and looked at Chloe, who was staring down at her hands.
“Grandma, I’m sorry.” The poor girl said this for what very well could have been the hundredth time. “I know that you’re disappointed that I’m not going to marry—”
“No, no, no.” June held up her hand. The left one, of course, so that her new diamond ring could sparkle. “That is not what I mean.” She took a deep breath. “I am simply disappointed that I will be standing up at the altar, without my family by my side. The truth is, it takes a family to make a marriage work. And as the leader of this family, I should have stepped in a long time ago.”
Charley gave a slight nod.
June turned to her granddaughter. “I am delighted you are not going to marry Geoff. You didn’t love him and marriage is hard enough if you don’t have that to hold you together. And as for you, Kristine . . .”
She lifted her pretty blue eyes. “Yes?”
June sniffed. “I think it is absolutely shameful that you will not be standing up there at that altar with me.”
“Mother,” she protested. “I am not going to talk about—”
“Regardless.” June waved her hand, as though to brush away the topic. “I am most certainly looking forward to my wedding. But I will not sit here and say that I can walk down the aisle in good conscience, knowing that my house isn’t resolved.”
“You can, Grandma,” Chloe said. “Mom and I are going to be just fine.”
Pointedly, June looked at Kevin’s stocking hanging up on the mantel. “Well. It’s not you and your mother who I’m worried about.”
Seventy-seven
The next morning, Chloe woke up at the crack of dawn. She’d done this every Christmas morning, as soon as she understood the concept of Santa. “It’s like you’d prop your eyes open with toothpicks or something,” her dad always said. “The moment the sun was up, so were you. It was impressive.”
This morning, it didn’t feel impressive. She would much rather be asleep. But the noise in her head was impossible to sleep through.
Sliding out of bed, she pulled open the curtain and looked outside. The window was covered in etched patterns of frost. A new layer of snow had fallen, making the world look fresh and bright. Pulling on her coat, scarf and gloves, she sneaked out of the house and headed for the train.
* * *
When Chloe let herself into her childhood home, it was still. Everything was in place, except for an empty container of black olives that was sitting on the counter. Her heart ached thinking of her father sitting alone on Christmas Eve. She’d texted him to see if he wanted her to come over last night, but he’d