CHAPTER 1
Christmas in Montana is not all romance and fluffy snowflakes like the Hallmark movies make you think.
This year at least, it’s going to be about me staring at the bare corner of the living room where a ten-foot Norway pine usually stands twinkling with a thousand white lights and carefully curated aesthetic ornaments.
Not this year.
“This is for your own good.” My mother cocks a flawlessly arched eyebrow, darting her eyes to mine as I sit in the passenger seat of her new Mercedes GLS, an early Christmas present from my stepfather, Colbert, as she drives us into town.
I barely had ten minutes at my family’s ‘cabin’ to drop my bags and take a breath before she scurried me to the car. And, by cabin I mean ten thousand square feet of hand set pine logs set on a thousand acres of some of the most stunning land in Montana.
I’ve had a hellish week, with studying and then driving the five hours home from Bozeman through a typical Montana December blizzard.
Did she even ask about my grades or how finals went?
They went well, Mom. I should maintain my 4.0 GPA and stay on track to graduate in three years with my double major in English and Political Science. Thanks for asking.
My half-sister Isabel giggles from the backseat, staring at her new iPhone. She’s been watching cat videos on TikTok since we pulled out of the drive.
She’s been indoctrinated from birth into the Elena and Colbert Houser playbook of life. This includes church every Sunday, and watching my parents make donations to politicians who support ‘traditional’ values. Their presentation of the perfect family to the upper crust of Montana is their true religion, if you ask me.
But, as usual, no one is asking me.
And yet, Isabel has still maintained her sweet nature and wisdom beyond her six and a half years.
I love her.
“Yes, mother.” I swallow around the tightness in my throat as Mom takes the turn onto East Chester Avenue, and then we see it.
Him,I mean. A guy. In a mask.
Isabel squeals as she sees him too. I suck in a sharp breath, my fingers darting to my lips. He’s juststandingthere with people walking around him shooting him looks as he stares straight ahead as though he was waiting forourcar to turn the corner.
“Look! It’s the Grinch!” Isabel lowers her window and yells, “Go back to where you came from, Grinchy Grinch! You’re not in Whoville!”
“Isabel!” Mom snaps as I lock onto the man in the green mask, his head tipping to the side as we pass. I note the stiff khaki pants and plain gray sweatshirt that make him look like a convict on his first day of parole. “You don’t know who that is! He could be dangerous.”
“He’s wearing aGrinchmask, Mom. How dangerous could he be? What’s he gonna do? Stuff our Christmas tree up the chimbly?” Her little lisp is so cute. “Oh, wait, we don’t even have a Christmas tree this year.”
Her voice falls, eyes meeting mine with a pity shrug.
I turn my head as we pass, watching the man raise a gloved hand, finger waving at the car as we go by, and a chill shakes my shoulders.
Why did it have to be the Grinch? I exhale hard, crossing my arms over my chest as Mom pulls the black SUV into the valet line at The Cobalt Club. I turn to look through the rear windshield at the freak on the corner, but he’s already gone.
“Ignore him,” my mom says, blinking at herself in the rearview. “Christmas is not about caricatures and cartoons. We know better, don’t we?”
She winks at Isabel, who is back to staring at her phone. “Yup,” she answers without looking up.
We’re at the club for a holiday late lunch, a concession to me before the three of them head to the airport, and I don’t see them again until after the New Year. They’re leaving for a Christmas‘retreat’ at the secluded Barbados resort owned by the First Church of Holy Values in Christ.
Don’t let the name fool you. It’s more like the first church of you-need-two-commas-in-your-bank-account-to-be-a-member.
If Jesus were alive, he wouldn’t make it through the front door on a carpenter’s salary.
“Let’s get going, girls. Some of us have a plane to catch.” Mom finger brushes her freshly highlighted and blown-out blonde bob before putting the car in park and grabbing her purse.
I look back at Isabel, and she gives me a tight smile. “We allwantyou to come, Sadie. But God needs you to take some time to re-evaluate your priorities.”
