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When she returned home, she replied, We should be fine. She explained about the pendant and added, Besides, I think the curse has already done its worst for the year. Bradley broke up with me.
She’d meant the explanation to be a comfort, an assurance that the worst had come and she’d survived. But soon she was bombarded by panicked and consoling messages. Oops! She tapped the Call button. A cheerful tone chimed as the three-way video call connected. David and Papa started speaking over each other, their images jerky on her phone screen.
“Devra, I’m so sorry—”
“Sweetie, are you ok—?”
“I’m fine,” she interrupted. “I mean, I’m devastated, obviously. But I’m kind of used to being devastated, so it doesn’t really pack the same punch it used to. Anyway, what I’m trying to tell you is we can now have a stress-free Christmas dinner all together as a family.”
“That sounds lovely,” Papa said.
David bit his thumbnail. “Frankly, I’m still a bit nervous about the idea.”
“Well, suck it up. Because I need you two here by my side on Christmas Day to help me shut down this curse for good.”
A long silence fell upon them. Devra didn’t know whether to interpret it as a moment of shock or a technology-induced lag.
“This is really happening, then?” her father asked, failing to conceal his own hope.
“It is.”
“And you really think it’s going to work?” David asked.
“I do. And in order to do what I need to do, the people I love most in this world have to be at my side.”
“Well, then,” her brother said. “I guess I’ll be there with bells on.”
“No bells—” Devra started before she took a breath and amended, “I mean, sounds good. Wear as many bells as you’d like.”
“It was just an expression.”
“Oh, thank god. I hate bells.”
David chuckled. “And I love you too, sis.”
“We both do,” Papa said. “We’ll be there. Whatever you need. We’re in this together.”
“Thank you.”
Another pause. But this silence contained something palpable, a promise of something new.
“Wow,” David said. “I can’t believe you got dumped again in December. What is that, like, three times?”
“Four, actually.”
He whistled. “Four times.”
“Yup.”
“That has to be some kind of record.”
“Probably.”
“Maybe we should reach out to the Guinness people. Or get you on some daytime talk show. There could be some money to be made here.”
“Umm…”
“Seriously, once or twice is whatever, but four times?”
