a mile from our destination.”
“I’ll miss you, Mar.”
“I’ll miss you more, El.”
“Guess I’d better not kiss you out here on the street.”
“Probably not. Never know when the neighbors are going to have their binoculars trained on my driveway.”
“Wish I could.”
“Wish so, too.” Mary started the engine. “Thanks for taking care of Swiffer.”
“Thanks for letting me hang out here with Sam while you’re gone.”
“Promise you’ll be here when we get back.”
“I promise. I’ll be counting the minutes.”
Mary grabbed the gear shift. “We’d better roll. If I’m not there within ten minutes of when I said I’d be, Mother will have the Highway Patrol out looking for us.”
“Be safe, okay?”
“Not to worry. My little copilot over there”—Mary pointed her thumb at Natalie in the passenger seat—“will alert me to every conceivable road hazard.”
Ellis leaned farther into the cab. “You take good care of your mom for me, okay, Natalie?”
“Got a quarter?” Natalie said, grinning.
“If you do it right, I’ll give you a dollar.”
Natalie held out her hand. “That’s a deal. Pay me.”
“Not until you bring her back safe and sound.”
“Meanie.”
“Just a smart businesswoman.”
Natalie stretched across the console and her mother’s torso, her hand still held out.
Ellis slapped her palm against Natalie’s. “Have fun.” She eased back and rested her forearms on the open window.
“I will. I hope Gramma Anna got me what I asked for.”
Mary said, “Nat—”
“I know, I know. Christmas isn’t about presents.” Natalie fussed with readjusting her seatbelt and crossed her arms across her chest. “But I still hope she got what I told her I wanted.”
“Really, we’ve got to go.”
Ellis backed away from the car, and Mary shifted into reverse.
Ellis waved as Mary maneuvered down the short driveway. “Merry Christmas, MaryChris Moss.” Ellis fought the lump in her throat as she spoke.
“Merry Christmas, Gretchen,” Mary called out the car window. She hesitated. “I love you.”
In all their many conversations, Ellis had never heard those words from Mary before. The SUV was on the street and pulling away before they registered with her, too late for her to say them back.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
“How’s everything going up there?” Ellis pressed the phone tight against her ear, hoping it would make her feel like Mary wasn’t a hundred miles away.
“No wonder the suicide rate jumps during the holidays. Whoever said this is the most wonderful time of the year never spent the weekend before Christmas incarcerated at Anna Moss’s house.”
“How’d you get out?”
“Mother needed more pecans and cranberries for her special Christmas morning bread, and I raced out the door to get them before anyone else could beat me to it. I’ve just spent almost an hour in line at the Ingles Market to procure one of the last bags of cranberries in town.”
“Poor baby. Sounds like hard time on the rock.”
“Don’t mess with me, VanStantvoordt. I know where you live and where you’re staying. I can hurt you—and your dog, too.”
“You really are in a bad mood.”
“Merry freakin’ Christmas.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Yes, but I don’t have time to right now.”
“Can I get a preview, at least?”
“My big-mouthed daughter, aided and abetted by my well-intentioned but clueless ex-husband, has given my mother enough ammunition to do her version of the assault on the Alamo.”
“And your role?”
“Davy Crockett, but instead of a coonskin cap, mine’s made of live skunk, and instead of Betsy the trusted musket, I’ve got a Betsy-Wetsie doll.”
“Sounds awful.”
“It is, and there’s still five more days to go before I can tunnel out and make my escape to freedom.”
“How can I help?”
“Will you hold me when I get home?”
The wave of desire that welled in Ellis caught her off-guard. “You know I
“I’ll miss you, Mar.”
“I’ll miss you more, El.”
“Guess I’d better not kiss you out here on the street.”
“Probably not. Never know when the neighbors are going to have their binoculars trained on my driveway.”
“Wish I could.”
“Wish so, too.” Mary started the engine. “Thanks for taking care of Swiffer.”
“Thanks for letting me hang out here with Sam while you’re gone.”
“Promise you’ll be here when we get back.”
“I promise. I’ll be counting the minutes.”
Mary grabbed the gear shift. “We’d better roll. If I’m not there within ten minutes of when I said I’d be, Mother will have the Highway Patrol out looking for us.”
“Be safe, okay?”
“Not to worry. My little copilot over there”—Mary pointed her thumb at Natalie in the passenger seat—“will alert me to every conceivable road hazard.”
Ellis leaned farther into the cab. “You take good care of your mom for me, okay, Natalie?”
“Got a quarter?” Natalie said, grinning.
“If you do it right, I’ll give you a dollar.”
Natalie held out her hand. “That’s a deal. Pay me.”
“Not until you bring her back safe and sound.”
“Meanie.”
“Just a smart businesswoman.”
Natalie stretched across the console and her mother’s torso, her hand still held out.
Ellis slapped her palm against Natalie’s. “Have fun.” She eased back and rested her forearms on the open window.
“I will. I hope Gramma Anna got me what I asked for.”
Mary said, “Nat—”
“I know, I know. Christmas isn’t about presents.” Natalie fussed with readjusting her seatbelt and crossed her arms across her chest. “But I still hope she got what I told her I wanted.”
“Really, we’ve got to go.”
Ellis backed away from the car, and Mary shifted into reverse.
Ellis waved as Mary maneuvered down the short driveway. “Merry Christmas, MaryChris Moss.” Ellis fought the lump in her throat as she spoke.
“Merry Christmas, Gretchen,” Mary called out the car window. She hesitated. “I love you.”
In all their many conversations, Ellis had never heard those words from Mary before. The SUV was on the street and pulling away before they registered with her, too late for her to say them back.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
“How’s everything going up there?” Ellis pressed the phone tight against her ear, hoping it would make her feel like Mary wasn’t a hundred miles away.
“No wonder the suicide rate jumps during the holidays. Whoever said this is the most wonderful time of the year never spent the weekend before Christmas incarcerated at Anna Moss’s house.”
“How’d you get out?”
“Mother needed more pecans and cranberries for her special Christmas morning bread, and I raced out the door to get them before anyone else could beat me to it. I’ve just spent almost an hour in line at the Ingles Market to procure one of the last bags of cranberries in town.”
“Poor baby. Sounds like hard time on the rock.”
“Don’t mess with me, VanStantvoordt. I know where you live and where you’re staying. I can hurt you—and your dog, too.”
“You really are in a bad mood.”
“Merry freakin’ Christmas.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Yes, but I don’t have time to right now.”
“Can I get a preview, at least?”
“My big-mouthed daughter, aided and abetted by my well-intentioned but clueless ex-husband, has given my mother enough ammunition to do her version of the assault on the Alamo.”
“And your role?”
“Davy Crockett, but instead of a coonskin cap, mine’s made of live skunk, and instead of Betsy the trusted musket, I’ve got a Betsy-Wetsie doll.”
“Sounds awful.”
“It is, and there’s still five more days to go before I can tunnel out and make my escape to freedom.”
“How can I help?”
“Will you hold me when I get home?”
The wave of desire that welled in Ellis caught her off-guard. “You know I
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