“Okay, I don’t know what Sam did, but let’s take it one step at a time. Does Victoria have to be in love with someone to be doing well?”
She gave me a pained look like I was being ridiculous. “It’slife,Bridget. You meet someone, you fall in love, you start a family.”
“Yeah, your mom told you that, didn’t she?”
Her jaw dropped. “What are you saying?”
“Just that Victoria’s grandmother seems to have left this family with some trauma,” I said. “Victoria has a breakdown over having emotions, Kevin looked like he was pulling teeth by being open about his feelings for Sam in front of me and Victoria, you’re terrified you’re doing a bad job because of nebulous forces and, while we’re at it, you’re scared to have emotions. I know what Nan would say was the problem.”
She looked down at her drink. “Grandma never did like her daughter-in-law much,” she said, words tactfully chosen.
“She was very strict, right? Very traditional. I’m going out on a limb guessing it was her who convinced you you’re only good for raising a family and then your worth is dependent on how the kids turn out.”
“It’s not like she would say things like that to me,” she said, her voice hollow.
“I think you’re doing just fine. Victoria just wants someone she can talk to.”
“She can talk to me anytime she wants. She doesn’t reach out.”
“What happens when she does?”
She welled up again, gripping her mug tightly, and she looked down, sipping it slowly, her expression small and broken and defeated. Finally, she managed in a thin voice, “I wish you were dating Victoria.”
Yeah, me too. But I wasn’t explaining all of that. “It’ll be a lucky person who gets to have her one day,” I said. My voice came out too wistful. I think that qualified as admitting it. I winced a little, but she didn’t press it.
“You’re an intelligent, charismatic young woman with a respectable job and a bright future,” she said. “You’d certainly reflect well on the family.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I mean… every job is respectable if you put in the effort and care about it.”
“The way you two look at each other, it’s just… I can tell she cares about you. You feel the same way, don’t you? She’s incredibly intelligent, hardworking, diligent, she’s mature and responsible…”
I paused. “Just out of curiosity, when was the last time you said any of those things to her directly?”
She went quiet. I sat with it, drinking eggnog, while Miss Jameson sipped coffee with slightly quivery hands. She didn’t get to respond, though, not before the door swung open and Sam stepped into the room, a conspiratorial look my way.
“Bridge, I gotta lay low, they’re still eating tacos,” he said, even though I was frantically signaling him to hush, and he realized too late Miss Jameson was in here, when she turned to give him a look that would make little children cry.
“You come tomyhouse on Christmas Day—”
“Oh, Miss Jameson—hi, miss, it’s so good to see you here—”
“While you’re datingmyson without my approval—”
“Oh! You know, back in the dining room, I didn’t properly notice how nice your jacket looks, very fetching—”
“And you have the nerve to complain about the food I provide?”
“Now, Miss Jameson,” I said, and she relaxed just a little.
“I’m just a little bit allergic to, um…” Sam started, desperately searching. “Turkey?” I wondered if the question mark was because he was that bad a liar or if he wasn’t sure if it was turkey in the taco. If someone told me it was raccoon meat, I’d have believed it.
Miss Jameson welled up again. “You don’t like the tacos?”
“No,” he said, deflating. “No, they’re not really… quite to my taste. I am so sorry. I don’t mean to offend.”
“It’s an acquired taste, is all,” I said. Sam lit up.
“Like a fine wine.”
