I owed her a lot of things. “I guess I do.”
Ifound Caitlyn downstairs in the media room watching a movie with her cousins. “Cait, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked. On the screen, James Caan inexplicably wore a red Santa coat.
“Sure. I’ve seen this movie before.” She bounced up from the couch. “They fix Santa’s sleigh by singing.”
“Caitlyn!” Logan moaned. “Way to spoil it.”
“What?” She lifted her palms. “It’s obvious.”
The boys threw popcorn at her as she walked to the door. She lifted her chin and brushed it off her dress. “Keep watching. You’ll like it, I promise.”
Outside the media room, I said, “You know, it’s not very nice to spoil movies for your cousins.”
“It’s a Christmas movie,” she said, shrugging. “You know what’s going to happen. That’s why everyone likes them.”
How did my eight-year-old already understand the world so well? It had taken me years to figure it out and feel in control of it. Something I was about to give up. “I’m leaving to talk to Bridget. Would you like to go home with Uncle Mason and the boys, or spend the night here with Grandmother?”
Her eyes widened. “You’re going to talk to Bridget? Like, you’ll apologize and tell her you want her to come back?”
“How the f—heck did you know we were together, or that we broke up?”
“Daddy. That night she came over, I was sick, but nothing was wrong with my eyes. You hardly ever smile like that. And today you’re all…floppy. It’s not like you’re hard to figure out.”
The child definitely had a future in the executive suite. Or fortune-telling.
“Okay, yes, I’m going to ask Bridget if she’ll be my girlfriend.”
She tucked her hand into mine. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“I really don’t think?—”
“You can’t mess this up,” she said. “It’s too important.”
“You really like Bridget, don’t you?”
She grinned. “She likes me too. Don’t you always tell me not to leave anything on the table in a negotiation?”
“Yes, but what does that?—”
“I’m a benefit. You’re going to remind her we’re a package deal.”
I bumped her under the chin. “You’re a smart kid. How can she refuse a face like yours?”
“Exactly. Let’s go.”
39
SUNSHINE AND SANDY BEACHES
BRIDGET
Iwalked into my parents’ kitchen under the arch of blinking multicolor bulbs, circa 1982 because Dad never threw anything out. A string of fairy lights adorned the vent hood, where my mother stirred a pot. The scent of potato-leek soup and glazed ham filled the room. I hefted the cardboard case onto the kitchen table. “Hi, Mom. I brought wine.”
When she turned from the stove, her sweater vest blinked at me. Each side had a tree knitted into it, dotted with light-up ornaments. “So good to see you, honey. You didn’t have to bring wine when you’re between jobs.” She hugged me, long and tight, but the tension I’d been carrying for two days gripped me even harder.
“I can still provide for the family,” I said.For now.
She pinched her lips like I’d said it out loud. “You don’t know how long you’ll be out of work. Save your pennies.”
