“You didn't tell me you bought him a costume!” Walker said, trying not to laugh and failing. Rudolph, true to his name, was dressed as a reindeer, complete with a noisy bell-studded harness and reindeer antlers. He raced around in a circle then tripped over his feet and collapsed on the floor. “I'm glad Santa doesn't have to rely on him, because nothing would be delivered,” Walker joked.
I was barely able to complete any more work in the next few hours. Between the puppy's admirers coming to visit and take pictures and the barrage of text messages and calls I was getting from Sloane, I couldn't concentrate.
Rudolph whined, and I took the excuse to go outside for a break. There was a park near my tower, and I took the dog there to burn off some energy.
“Does he have snowflakes and candy canes on the leash?” I complained. Of course that was what Holly had bought for him.Six figures on Christmas decorations, then she decks the dog out in Christmas.
“I don't understand why you hate Christmas. I always tried to make Christmas perfect.” Dr. Diane Frost, researcher extraordinaire and, according to Jack, the world's worst mother, stepped out from behind a tree.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” I asked in shock. “Are you stalking me?”
“I can't come see my son?” she said, reaching up to hug me. She was a slightly older version of my sister, Belle, but with none of the humor. She had the same height and blue eyes, but her hair was brown, not our white.
“Several of my children refuse to talk to me. I don't understand. I've given you all everything,” she said in disbelief.
Jack felt she was the worst mother in the world. I took a more nuanced view. She certainly wasn't great, and what she had done to Belle was terrible, but Diane wasn't all bad. She was my mother after all. That had to mean something.
“I met your girlfriend the other day,” she continued. “She and I had a very nice chat over coffee. I really like her. I think she will be a good wife and mother. And she has a high-profile job. You two are perfect for each other.”
“Girlfriend? That's news to me.”
“Sloane is very much in love with you!” my mother said with a laugh, as if I was just joking. “Sloane told me all about how she's going to help you with your contest.”
“Sloane isn't my girlfriend. She's—”What, a stalker? Men couldn't really be stalked, could they? Sloane wasn't dangerous, just delusional.“We are not together,” I said flatly.
“You’re not getting any younger,” my mother insisted. “You've done so well in your career. You own all this property. Now you just need to get married and give me grandchildren. All my friends have grandchildren.”
“This is so typical,” I said in annoyance. “You didn't even ask me how I am. You just jumped straight to what you want.”
“I'msosorryyou think I’m such a terrible mother that you won't give me grandchildren,” Diane said dramatically.
My mother did this every single time I interacted with her. It was as if she sought me out to make herself feel validated.
“If you want grandchildren, maybe you could go adopt a child out of foster care,” I suggested. “There are lots of needy kids.”
Diane jerked back as though I'd slapped her. “No! I could never. I need nice grandkids, not rejects. I want to have a picture-perfect Christmas morning, watching them open their little presents, giving them their stockings.”
I didn't want to listen to her anymore. “I have to go back to work,” I said, picking up Rudolph.
*
I leftRudolph with Walker then went to the studio to judge the bake-off. The encounter in the park had reminded me why I had been trying to limit my contact with my mother. She was so self-absorbed and a bit of a snob. After that terrible family experience, all I wanted was a drink and to work on my new computer code. Instead, I had to eat multiple Christmas cookies.
Against my better judgment, I checked all the messages from Sloane. As I scrolled through them, I saw a picture of her and my mother. I sent it to Jack.
Owen:This is why I refuse to date.
Jack:Wow! Your stalker and Mom. You need to cut her off.
Owen:You know I can't do that.
I was in a terrible mood when the first batch of cookies was brought out. All the talk dredged up memories of Christmases past. Most children loved Christmas. I had dreaded it.
My mother would become extra demanding. She would make us all scrub the house, then she would dress us in matching outfits. Belle would be put in charge of wrangling me and my four younger brothers. My sister spent the entire month of December in a terrible mood, because what teenager wants her mom micromanaging her whole holiday and treating her like the live-in maid and chef?
Belle would yell at my brothers and me until everything was perfect for the lavish holiday parties my parents would throw for their work colleagues. The only food my mother would make herself was macarons. Belle cooked everything else, from all the perfectly constructed hors d'oeuvres to the impeccably decorated cakes and cookies.
My mother and father were obsessed with making sure their neighbors and colleagues thought the Frost family was perfect. Diane would force all of us kids to decorate the whole house for Christmas. Garlands on the staircases, candles in the windows, and the large blue spruce tree in the living room all went up right after Thanksgiving. My mother would order us to rehang the ornaments until they were perfect, and heaven help us if we dropped one.
