It’s going to be grand.
But that does make me think of all the Christmas-ing I did with Beau, and that dims the perfection of the last week.
He texted a few times, asking how I was or sending me a picture of how his Christmas is going. I kept my responses short and focused on business whenever he tried to veer to the personal.
His offices are done now, mostly finished by email from India and finalized when I got home. Room after room of imposing wood and comfortable, luxurious leather, with statues of Greek and Roman gods overlooking his deals and bestowing their prestige and good fortune his way. And enough paintings of harvesting and food to make anyone think about what’s for lunch, and about Beau and Daniel’s other successful company. I even snuck a statue of the Roman goddess of victory, Nike, into his research facility that was earmarked for his main office. Hopefully it’ll give him some luck in the R&D.
I’ve made sure the lights are set up, the walls are painted, and everything is in its place, ready to run a business. The only thing left to do is send the final invoice.
With the job done and my chilly responses when he tries to ask about how I’m doing or when he should visit, I don’t think he’ll be sending many more texts in the future.
I started seeing a therapist, who wants to have my parents in for a session when they come. She made me cry, and we’ve only had one session. She says the crying is a good thing, but I still hate it. I can admit to myself and only myself that it does feel better when I’m done. Go figure.
She also thinks I should text Beau back. She hasn’t said it in so many words, but I can read between the lines.
She says that’s projection, but what does she know?
It was hard coming back since I was getting along so well with my parents, but Priya needed me. I could tell she was getting stressed over the Christmas sale. I could hear it when she called me seven times a day and asked me where things were, so I decided to come back and do what I could to help her before she explodes with all the stress.
It’s mostly just keeping her calm enough so she can do all the things I know she can already do.
Now we’re here, the week of Christmas, and our joint auction starts in less than an hour.
“But did all the lots get here?” Priya asks, wringing her hands.
“Yes. I’ve gone through them all with an employee over at Carlyle’s and every piece is accounted for,” I say. “And before you can freak out about anything else: the room is decorated, the tables are mostly set, and the valet is set up and ready to take cars. The cooks are busy cooking, the maids are busy milking and we’ve put a partridge in a pear tree.”
That last part’s not hyperbole. We have a pear tree, and a partridge. Well, a fake one at any rate.
Priya sighs deeply and flips over the cover on her iPad. “Okay. I’m being ridiculous.”
Gavin walks by at the exact perfect moment and does an exaggerated double take. “Sorry, did my wife just admit to a character flaw?”
“No. I heard nothing,” I say promptly. I would kill for this woman; I would definitely lie for her.
Gavin slides an arm around his wife from behind and kisses her hair. Priya jerks away. “You’re going to mess my hair up.”
Gavin rolls his eyes. “You look great. This is going to be great. Our families can get along. And I’m going to mess up that hair later anyway.”
The heat between the two makes me look at my own iPad screen and think about Gavin’s words. That’s why Priya has been so intense. Extra intense, even. I thought it was because the sale was bigger than usual, or maybe because a joint sale is always harder since it involves more coordinating.
But she was worried because she wants her old and new families to get along. I should have seen it sooner, but I’ve been distracted for the past couple of weeks.
“I’m going to be so glad when I get my only moderately workaholic wife back.” He gives her another light kiss on her hair, not messing up a strand of it, and moves on to do his last-minute preparations for the half of the auction that he’s conducting.
“I didn’t know you were worried about the families getting along.” I nudge Priya when Gavin walks around the corner.
Priya looks down at her feet. “I think my first memory was Dad cursing the Carlyles. I don’t want every holiday and every family dinner to be tense, awkward and terrible forever.”
“Chacha loves you more than he loves competition. And they have been arguing, but it hasn’t been mean-spirited. Or as mean-spirited as they used to be.” Honesty compels me to add the last part.
“As someone CC’ed on those email threads, I think it’s incredibly generous of you to say it hasn’t been mean-spirited.”
“Maybe that’s just how they communicate.”
Priya looks up at me. “But if this show doesn’t work, then they’ll be back to hating each other again.”
I hug her close. “It’s going to be fine, but even if it isn’t, all the parents love you. Even mine, and they already promised to run interference between the houses. They do not care about this rivalry.” I casually work into the conversation that my parents are visiting. Every time I say they’re coming, it gets more real.
