“You had to feel like a third wheel. What a drag.”
Lila cut herself a hefty piece of coffee cake and one for Catherine, as well, and set them on the table. Fork in hand, she sat down and dug in, not bothering to wait for Catherine.
“I met some nice people.” Catherine decided not to go into details, especially about Rudy. What was the point?
She set a mug in front of Lila and she picked it up and sampled the latte, nodded approvingly. “I’m glad you had fun. What all did you get?”
“Oh, all kinds of things,” Catherine said, sitting down opposite her.
Lila grinned. “Are some of the all kinds of things in those boxes under the tree?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Sweet,” Lila said, and took another sip of her latte.
“And I bought a cuckoo clock.”
“Who’d you buy that for?”
“Myself.”
Lila nodded. “I guess you can’t go on a trip like that and not come back with something for yourself. Speaking of something for yourself.” She bent over and pulled a large envelope out of her purse. “Open it now.”
“If I do I won’t have anything under the tree.”
“Yes, you will,” Lila assured her. “I stuck something under there. Come on. Open it.”
Catherine opened the envelope and found a gift card for the Fifth Avenue Theater, a beautiful, old downtown theater loved by Seattle residents for their musicals. “Oh, how sweet!” Bill would have been proud of her daughter’s unselfishness.
“I thought we could go together,” Lila said around a mouthful of coffee cake.
That was her girl. Always thinking of others...and herself.
“I’d like that,” said Catherine.
“Great.” Lila took another bite of coffee cake and downed a healthy slug of her latte, then said, “I’ve got to get going. I still have to buy ski pants for Carissa and I’m supposed to be helping in Joey’s classroom today. Then tomorrow I have to deliver cupcakes for Carissa’s class party. Like I have time for that. I don’t know what I was thinking when I let myself get suckered into all this stuff.”
She’d barely been there and now she was leaving. Catherine sighed inwardly. “We’d better get your presents gathered up, then,” she said.
She grabbed a couple of paper shopping bags from under the sink and followed her daughter out to the living room.
“This is going to be a lot to pack,” Lila said. “Maybe we’ll open some before we leave.”
For a moment Catherine entertained the hope that her daughter would suggest she come over and watch them, but she didn’t. They’d probably open the gifts on the fly and then move on to the next adventure. She’d thought her life had been busy when the kids were growing up but it couldn’t compare to Lila’s frenetic pace.
Someday the top will stop spinning so fast, she thought, and you’ll find yourself wondering when it began to slow and how you missed that. And you’ll wish someone would sit with you and watch it do its final dance.
“Thanks, Mom,” Lila said, leaning over and giving Catherine a quick kiss on the cheek. Then she started for the door.
“Have fun,” Catherine said, trailing her.
“We will. The kids are really excited.” She opened the door and breezed out, calling over her shoulder, “See you in the new year.”
And that was that. Catherine went back into the living room, feeling let down. She’d hoped her daughter would have a little more time for her. The tree, with all the ornaments dangling from its branches, seemed to mock her. Memories, that’s all you’re going to have to keep you company this Christmas.
Well, there was a cheery thought. She frowned, disgusted with herself. Life was what you made it. So was Christmas, darn it all. She’d take her holiday cake to Denise’s, drink eggnog and listen to Denise’s granddaughters sing “Santa Baby.” There would be games and probably a holiday movie to watch. She could have fun without her children. She was a big girl.
To distract herself, she picked up her iPad and checked her email. She found a short one from Sophie.
I already miss everybody! Sophie enthused. I hope we can get together in the new year. Meanwhile, have a great Christmas. By the way, I’m going to Portland to tour the Cupid’s Chocolates factory. Bet you can’t guess who will be my guide.
Sierra had also written. Her email started out happy enough—so glad they’d met, was Catherine busy getting ready for Christmas? etc., etc. Then she came to the