snowing out there in the Valley where we grew up. I stomped snow off my boots on the rubber mat inside the door before stepping out of them and setting them on the shoe rack. The house smelled like cloves and spices, and to my right, I spotted a candle burning on the living-room coffee table.
My mother loved Christmas. She always had. When my father was alive, they would decorate on the first of December. Us kids would come home from school to a house decked out in festive cheer. The tree would be up with lights on it but no ornaments, and that night, we would all decorate the tree together while a Christmas movie played in the background. Dad would make dinner, usually a casserole of some sort, and later, Mom would put out shortbread cookies. We were allowed two each, but Dad would always keep his mouth shut if he saw us sneaking more into our gullets.
My mother poked her head out of the kitchen doorway. She had a Christmas apron on. It was the silhouette of Mrs. Claus with big buttons and a white belt. My mother’s curly white hair completed the vision, and so did her cheerful smile and rosy cheeks.
“Ethan,” she said warmly, “come join us in the kitchen.”
I made my way down the hall and greeted my mother with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I pressed the bottle of red wine I’d brought into her hands. “For you.”
She held it up and looked at the label. “My favorite. Thank you, sweetheart. Can I pour you a glass?”
“Absolutely.”
I followed her into the kitchen where I found Casey sitting at the table with her shoes off and her feet soaking in a large bowl.
I frowned and pointed at the bowl. “What’s going on here?”
Casey looked imploringly up at me. “Your mother said she had a hack to help with swelling. I think it’s working. Either that or I’m losing my mind.”
My mother pulled the cork from the wine and laughed softly. “It won’t get rid of it completely but it will help some. The cold water and lavender will help soothe. So will the salts. You learn a thing or two when you have three babies.”
Eli broke away from his task of peeling potatoes and clapped a hand on my back. He and I were brothers but we didn’t look the same. Where Dana and I took after our mother with our blond hair and blue eyes, Eli took after Dad. His eyes were dark, and his hair was brown, and he had the same broad shoulders and thick legs Dad had.
“Good to see you, little brother,” I said. “Where’s Dana? Did one of her patients try to eat her or something?”
My mother handed me a glass of wine. “She just called. She’s running a little late.” She bustled over to where Casey sat at the kitchen table and sat down across from her. “So, how are you feeling?”
Casey groaned.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” my mother amended. “I know you’re uncomfortable. But the end is in sight and it will all be so worth it. Have you thought any more about names?”
“Mom,” Eli warned. “We’re keeping the names close to the vest, remember? It will be a surprise when he’s born. You just have to be patient.”
My mother wrung her hands. “I’m not a patient person, especially when it comes to my first grandbaby. You mentioned you liked the names Scott and Michael. Are you still set on those?”
Casey rubbed her belly. “Sorry, Naomi. Like Eli said, our lips are sealed.”
My mother pouted. “Worth a try.”
We were all caught up in baby talk when the front door opened once more and Dana arrived cursing like a sailor about how much colder it was out in the Valley than it was in the city. She’d caught a ride out there with a co-worker who lived out in Mission, the municipality neighboring our hometown called Abbotsford. I would drive her back to the city at the end of the night as we did on most family dinner nights.
She came into the kitchen with a homemade apple pie and a half-melted bucket of vanilla ice cream that she crammed in the freezer before making her rounds to give everyone a hug. She gave me a tight squeeze before stepping back and asking how my meeting with the new potential clients went yesterday.
“It went well,” I said. “The O’Donnells are good and clever people. They heard me