to be repaid. Danny’s father had said they would have to sell it. He hinted that the house wouldn’t sell for as much as the bank was owed. I couldn’t quite figure out how such a thing had happened. It made no sense to me that Danny’s aunt had borrowed more money than she could repay. It also made no sense to me that the bank had lent it to her. That sounded criminal. But then, lots of things don’t always make sense to me.
It did make it all the more painful to let Danny go. His future didn’t look as bright as we’d originally thought.
His father seemed cheerful enough. He came back to the porch and shook Ray’s hand one more time.
I reached for Danny and hugged him tight. “You’re welcome here anytime.”
He hugged me back. Tight. It took him a few seconds to let go.
When he followed his father down the sidewalk, he looked back. I thought I saw tears in his eyes.
Of course, I might have been fooled by all the tears in mine.
____
We had to make some adjustments to our Christmas plans, what with the addition of Maury to our family.
In the years when Ray and I had been separated, Erica and I had spent Christmas with my best friend Isabelle, her husband, and my godchild Cassidy. Last Christmas I’d spent with Noelle, the only Christmas I’d ever spend with her.
I would miss Danny, but I’d expected him to leave us all along. It was the unexpected departures of loved ones that I couldn’t handle.
This year, Erica had invited us to dinner, and with some hesitation and an apology to Isabelle, I had accepted. Now the day had arrived and I dressed with some trepidation. Erica had never been known to cook anything more difficult than macaroni and cheese. She’d promised us prime rib and lasagna.
I wore green and made extra heavy hors d’oeuvres just in case. Ray and I drove to my old apartment with Christmas carols playing on the radio, including my favorite “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.”
Maury greeted us at the door and took our coats into the bedroom.
Ray took in the living room and whistled.
I stifled a laugh.
Red roses were everywhere. Roses in vases on the mantel, in pitchers on the coffee table and end tables, tucked in the Christmas tree as decorations, dried and crumbled in shallow dishes as potpourri. In addition, Erica had apparently used some of her precious wine cork and bottle cap collection to make an unusual mosaic frame for her wedding photo, which looked to have been taken outside a Vegas-like chapel. I got close enough to the photo to count the two dozen red roses she had clasped in her arms.
No sign of any dish gardens potted in homemade wishing wells—not that I ever expected to see any of those again.
When Erica appeared in the kitchen doorway, she even had a rose in her hair.
Needless to say, the aroma was heady.
Erica gestured toward all four walls. “How do you like the flowers?”
“They’re amazing.”
Ray cleared his throat. “Awesome.”
Erica danced into the room, sweeping her long emerald skirt through the air. “Maury spoils me. He says I’m a domestic goddess.”
I saw Ray’s eyes bulge on that one. He was probably thinking about the fact that I taught Erica what little she knows. But I have to give the man credit, he kept it together. He got his unreadable “good cop, bad cop, anything-you-need-me-to-be cop” expression locked in place within seconds.
Maury offered us wine. Ray asked for a beer. Erica went to the kitchen to retrieve one. I followed her.
“So Maury bought all these roses for you?” A little adding machine in my head was running the numbers. No wonder they couldn’t afford to pay their whole rent.
“No, oh no, these are the ones the florist discarded. They all had black spots or wilted leaves. I just pick off the dead stuff, and they look fine to me.”
A shrine of discarded roses for my sister. I tried not to read anything into that.
In the living room, Erica delivered Ray’s beer and perched on the arm of Maury’s chair. Then the four of us sat in awkward silence, alternately eating a bite and trying not to make eye contact.
“These are good hors d’oeuvres, Jolene. Did you make them?” Maury smiled at me.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that they came in a box. “They bake up fast.”
Ray cleared his throat and took a long swig of beer. The