She grinned but tried to play it off. "Yeah. The bookstore down on Main hired me yesterday. They needed someone to handle the kids' section, paint a mural, and maybe not lose the register. I start after the holidays."
Beth's jaw hit the table. "Gerty, you've never had a non-art job in your life!"
She shrugged, but her cheeks went pink. "Maybe it's time. Besides, you can only live offtrust fund fumes for so long before you start questioning your existence. And I'll be painting a mural, so it's still an art job."
Chance nodded. "That store is run by good people. You'll fit in."
The twins, never ones to miss an opportunity, immediately pounced.
"So you'll get us a discounts on books?" Fifi asked.
"Maybe. If you're nice," Gerty shot back.
Mere leaned in. "Can you recommend stuff? For, like, birthdays?"
Gerty winked. "I'll be your source. Just don't narc on me to the owner."
The chatter spiraled. Kids arguing over which book character was best, Beth tearing up again at the sight of her kids acting normal. Even Huey joined in, parked under the table snoring like a chainsaw.
I stood up, letting it all roll over me. The past week had been nothing but upheaval. Secrets, shifts, new family ties, the stress of protecting everyone from the next shoe waiting to drop.
But here, in this kitchen, with Gerty's job, Beth's kids happy and safe, and both my daughters laughing like they'd never been haunted by anything, my heart was too full to speak.
I caught Gerty's smile. Quiet, content, a little fragile.
Beth topped off her cocoa and raised it in a shaky toast. "Here's to new beginnings."
I saw the tears in her eyes, the same as mine.
"To new beginnings," I replied.
The mugs clinked, the kids cheered, and for a few precious minutes, everyone was simply happy.
Tash
A once-in-a-lifetime ChristmasEve snowstorm covered the Meyer house, piled on fence posts and porch rails, smoothing the drive into a ribbon of white velvet. From the window, Laurel Gap looked like it had been thrown into a snow globe and shaken by giants. The wind sawed at the glass now and then, but inside, the world was nothing but gold firelight and the soft, soon-to-be pandemonium of family Christmas Eve.
Of course, by snowstorm, it was maybe two and a half inches, but in East Tennessee, that might as well be the big blizzard that had hit in 1993 that everyone kept talking about. I remembered only the briefest snatches of that storm. I'd been three years old. My grandmother had told me all about it as I'd grown up,though. I'd heard the story enough that I almost felt like it was a real memory. She'd kept us warm in the week-long power outage with an old kerosene heater. We'd eaten her out of canned food. Thankfully a friend of hers had pulled up in a four-wheel-drive just in time or we would've been melting snow for dinner. Now, over thirty years later, her telling me the story was a wonderful memory.
The twins pressed their faces to the front window, breath fogging up double circles. They didn't even bother pretending to be cool about it.
Fifi tapped the pane, hard enough to rattle the holly garland Livia had twined along the sill. "So much snow! For Christmas!"
Mere didn't answer, but her fingers traced hearts in the condensation, one after the other, so the whole window looked tattooed with hope.
Behind them, Huey snored under the Christmas tree, his belly full of homemade dog biscuits courtesy of Maeve. He sported a bowtie so crooked it looked like he'd escaped a pet parade. If the world were fair, he'd have been the cover model for every "Cute Dog Christmas" greeting card ever made. His back leg kicked every so often, thumping against the gifts as if he was working through a serious dream sequence.
Lola crouched on the back of the couch, watchingeveryone with the smug, half-lidded judgment of a Roman emperor. Every time Huey twitched, Lola flicked her tail, warning the world not to test her.
The living room was so perfect it almost hurt. Livia had steered the holiday from top to bottom. From the fire burning low and steady, to the cookies stacked like architectural marvels on heavy glass platters, the tea brewing in delicate cups that caught the light like stained glass. Even the air was scented, with the ever-present cinnamon and something sweet I couldn't quite name. I scanned the mantle and the garland and the twinkling lights and wondered if anybody else in the county could've done better.
Chance leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyeing the room with a mixture of awe and dry amusement. When he caught Livia fussing with a tray of lemon bars, he lobbed the first shot. "You know, some people say ‘understated' is in this year. Have you ever tried that?"
Livia didn't miss a step. "Understated is overrated." A shadow crossed her expression. "I have a lot of time to make up for."
He snorted, but he gave her a thoughtful look. I didn't know that he'd fully forgiven her for all the time he'd missed with the girls. Just because her motives had been honorable didn't un-fuck-up the past. I watchedhim covertly, but he ducked into the kitchen when his phone buzzed.
Maeve was in the armchair by the fire, holding a mug.
