A Family Affair by Fern Michaels Page B

My sister is very much like our mother.”
    “And I think you will be, too, when you become a mother. All right, I must now get showered and dressed. Eleven o’clock will be here before you know it. Is there anything I can do before I leave?”
    “Nope. I’m good. Thanks for bringing the coffee. It hit the spot. I’ll see you downstairs. Did the weatherman say anything about snow?”
    “Just flurries, whatever that is,” Soraya called over her shoulder.
    “Soraya, wait a minute. If there’s time, do you want to go pick out a Christmas tree this afternoon? If we’re running tight, we can do it tomorrow. I want you to have the experience of picking out a tree. We’ll put this one on the other side of the fireplace. You can never have too many Christmas trees. At least that’s what my mother used to say. Emma used to have one in every room in her house when she first got married. And I think I’m going to take you up to Lake Tahoe this weekend and teach you how to ski. Would you like that?”
    Soraya raced back in the room. “Oh, yes to everything. Thank you. I can’t wait to tell Malik. He knows how to ski, but he said he spent more time on his bum than he did on his feet. I have pictures!” she said triumphantly.
    The two women hugged each other before Soraya ran off again. How nice it was to make someone so happy. If only she could get Emma’s ex-husband out of her mind. What he was doing to her sister and her niece was taking the edge off her own happiness.

    Their cheeks rosy with the cold and brisk wind, Trish and Soraya struggled to carry the Christmas tree up the steps to the little porch of Trish’s town house. Trish ran inside to get a bucket of water. They managed to prop the tree in the bucket, getting it to lean against the railing. Trish then cut the netting, and the branches spread out like eager hands.
    “By tonight, when we get home, we can bring it inside, and then tomorrow we can decorate it. The house will smell wonderful. At this time of year, I always let cinnamon sticks simmer in boiling water. My sister always did the same thing. It takes me back to the time when I was little and still believed in Santa Claus.”
    “Look at my hands! I just love this smell. Palm trees don’t smell,” Soraya said, giggling.
    “We cut this close, Soraya. We have to hustle now to make sure we’re not late. We have time. Just don’t dawdle around, okay?”
    “Okay, okay,” Soraya said as she ran inside and headed for the steps, dropping her jacket on the floor.
    Trish clapped her hands and whistled between her teeth, an ear-shattering sound. Soraya stopped in her tracks when Trish pointed to the jacket on the floor.
    “Sorry!” Soraya ran down the stairs, picked up the jacket, and hung it on the clothes tree in the small foyer. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”
    Trish smiled as she headed for the kitchen to wash the pine sap off her hands. She then called Malik and shared the events of the afternoon with him.
    “Does the tree really smell?” he asked.
    “Divinely. We’ll bring it in tonight, when we get home, set it up, let the branches fall out more, and decorate it tomorrow. I’ll send pictures. I have to go now. I love you more than life itself.”
    “I love you more!” Malik said.
    “Impossible!” Trish laughed as she broke the connection. She galloped up the steps and headed for her shower.
    Her mind galloped as fast as her feet when she tried to remember where she’d stored all the Christmas decorations. Especially the ones that had belonged to her mother. Emma had said it was only fair to share them, so when they had split them up, she kept the childish ones she’d made in school and Trish kept hers. Little balls with painted macaroni glued to them, small sleds made out of Popsicle sticks, then painted with their names on them and the date. There was also a pomander ball made with a real orange, which was petrified now. She clearly remembered sticking the cloves in the