“Did you hear me? Don’t stand in the door, and I’ll tell you all about the roast. Take your lady’s coat and put your luggage upstairs.”
The dutiful son, I did what my dad asked, and then found Claire and him sitting in front of the fire. A small tree was in the corner, decorated with white lights.
“A roast, a tree, the house smells like mistletoe…what the heck’s going on here?” I looked at my pops.
“Remember Judith Smalls?”
“From the corner store?”
“Yep, one and the same. We’ve been spending some time together. At first, she helped me learn some recipes, and then things developed.”
“Well, where is she?”
“I didn’t know how you’d take it. Told her we’d see her Christmas Eve.”
“Pops—I never would give you a hard time. I’ve waited a long time for you to move on.”
Claire sat with her legs tucked under her, right next to the fire, quietly sipping a mug of steaming coffee, allowing us to converse. Another thing I loved about that damn woman. She spoke her mind when it was needed and was quiet when others needed it.
“Well, I didn’t know with the way you’re out there hunting down your mom and looking for something you may never find.”
“Listen, I’m thrilled for you, Pops. You do you. And I’ll do me. We can talk about Mom after the holiday.”
“Right now, let me get to know Claire.” My dad ended the current discussion by moving on to greener pastures.
