“Your kids are twits,” Catherine Pine’s friend Denise informed her. “They shouldn’t be leaving you at Christmas, not after what you’ve been through.”
“It’s been a rough year,” Catherine admitted.
Coping with widowhood and then, right after her sixtieth birthday, getting hit with uterine cancer. Not the best year of Catherine’s life, for sure. And chemo and radiation awaited her in the new year.
“All the more reason they should be with you,” Denise said.
“They have lives of their own,” Catherine said in her children’s defense.
Denise gave a snort and took a gulp from her latte. “Which they’re happy to make you a part of when it suits them.”
Catherine frowned. Denise was her best friend and best friends were like sisters. Not that Catherine had a sister—only a brother who’d never bothered to marry—but that was what she’d always thought. Still, there were times when best friends and probably even sisters needed to keep their mouths shut. Morning lattes together at Starbucks and diet accountability didn’t give a woman the right to diss her friend’s children. Even if they were twits sometimes. Denise’s daughter wasn’t so perfect. She’d gone through two husbands in twelve years.
Denise pointed an acrylic-nail-tipped finger at Catherine. “They were barely there for you after your surgery.”
“They both had to work.”
This inspired an eye roll. “And now they’re both abandoning you at Christmas? They should be buried up to their necks in lumps of coal.”
Catherine had so hoped to have her children with her. “Mom, last year was torture,” her daughter, Lila, had informed her when Catherine brought up the subject of the family gathering for Christmas. As if Catherine were planning to give them a repeat performance.
No, their celebration the year before hadn’t exactly been a happy gathering. Not a “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” moment anywhere in sight. It had been their first one without Bill, and Catherine had cried through everything, starting with the opening of presents and going clear through Christmas dinner. Her misery had infected her daughter, making Lila cry, as well. William’s wife had teared up, too, and poor William had looked miserable and at a loss for what to say or do. Even the grandkids had been miserable. Catherine’s youngest grandchild, Mariette, had sat under the tree and sobbed, and Aaron, the oldest grandboy, had muttered, “This sucks.”
Yes, it had sucked. Catherine had tried not to turn on the waterworks again when the kids and grandkids gathered their presents and put on their coats to go home, but she’d failed. Ho, ho, ho. They’d all left like people anxious to leave a funeral.
But this year Catherine was in a better place, and she’d wanted to make new memories. Still regaining her energy from her hysterectomy, she hadn’t felt up to preparing a big meal at Thanksgiving. But now, with the year coming to a close, she’d been feeling more energetic and ready to ring in the holidays. She’d never imagined doing that by herself.
“We’re going to Park City with James’s parents for Christmas,” Lila had said when Catherine called her. Where there would be skiing and spoiling aplenty. James lacked for nothing and, after marrying him, neither did Lila.
Not that she’d lacked for much of anything growing up. Catherine had done her best to make sure of that.
“You’ll be fine for a few days, won’t you?” Her daughter’s tone of voice added, Of course you will.
“Yes, but what about your presents?” Presents were always a good lure. Maybe they could get together beforehand.
Sadly, no. Lila had sooo much to do. “You can send them along with us,” she’d offered.
William had beaten Catherine to the punch for Christmas plans as well, mentioning when she’d checked in on him that he and Gabrielle were taking the kids to Cabo for the holidays. “We need to get away,” he’d said.
So did Catherine. Nobody had offered her the opportunity to get away with them. But then, who liked a tagalong, anyway?
“You spoil the kids,” Bill used to say. He’d especially said it whenever Catherine went over to their daughter’s house to help with the babies or unpleasant cleaning chores. “Lila can clean her own house. Hell, she can afford to hire someone to clean her house. And she sure can afford to pay a babysitter. It doesn’t always have to be you.”
Yes, but Catherine had wanted to help her daughter. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do when you got older, help the younger generation? And besides, she liked spending time with the grandkids.