The Cottage on Juniper Ridge (6 page)

Jen let the oven door slam shut, grabbed the phone and said a
hopeful “Hello.”

“Hi, Jen, it’s Hannah.”

“Yes?” Jen said eagerly.

“I just called to tell you that the woman I showed the condo to
decided she’d rather have a house.”

Jen’s spirits took a nosedive and she sank onto her couch. “I
thought she wanted to downsize.”

“She changed her mind. It happens. But don’t worry. I’ll find
you a buyer.”

“Thanks,” Jen said, trying to sound upbeat and appreciative. “I
know you’re trying to sell this place.”

“Frankly, I can’t understand why we haven’t found a buyer. It’s
a great condo, and it’s definitely priced to sell.”

Because it isn’t in the cards, Jen thought. The fact that the
condo hadn’t sold was a sign that she wasn’t supposed to move. She was doomed to
stay in her crappy life, working as an office drone and selling candles to the
Alma Tuttles of the world.

She thanked Hannah, then hung up and slumped against the couch
cushions. From her window she had a beautiful view of the Seattle skyline. This
was really a lovely place. She hated it here!

She was still staring grumpily out the window when the phone
rang again. This time it was her sister.

“How was the candle party?” Toni asked.

“A dud. Like my life.”

“Well, that’s upbeat.”

“My Realtor just called. Still no bites.”

“Maybe you’re not meant to sell it,” Toni suggested.

“Thanks,” Jen said miserably.

“Maybe you’re meant to rent it instead.”

“Rent it?” Jen repeated. She hadn’t thought of that.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” her sister said. “I really hate to
see you move. But at least if you rented and you didn’t like it up there, you’d
have someplace to come back to.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jen muttered.

“Hey, it never hurts to have a plan B. Anyway, if you’re
interested in renting, I think I know someone who’d want your condo.”

Jen bolted upright. “You do?”

“My neighbor. Her divorce became final and she’s looking for a
place where she can make a new start. She might even be open to renting with an
option to buy if you decide you want to go that route. She works downtown, so
your place would be perfect for her.”

“Does she have a house to sell?” That would take time. Jen knew
this now, from personal experience.

“No, she and her ex were renting.”

“So, if she liked the condo she could move in right away.”

“Probably,” Toni agreed. “Should I give her your number?”

“Absolutely!” If the place didn’t sell, she’d have someone who
could make her payments. That would get her out from under just as well as a
sale. Yes! This was a sign. She was meant to move.

The aroma of burning cookie wafted to where she sat and she
remembered she was baking. She dashed to the kitchen, phone in hand and,
propping the phone between her ear and shoulder, put on her oven mitt and opened
the oven. A plume of smoke wafted out to greet her, stinging her eyes and making
her cough. She pulled out the cookie sheet with her blackened gingerbread boys.
Eeew.

A moment later the smoke alarm went off.

“What’s happening?” Toni asked.

“I burned my cookies. I’ve got to go.”

“Okay. Try not to burn down the condo before you get it
rented,” Toni teased, and hung up.

Jen grabbed a towel and flapped it in the direction of the
smoke detector, all the while scolding herself for forgetting to set the timer.
Finally, the noise subsided. “Well, you guys are history,” she informed the
ruined cookies.

Maybe, if she was lucky, her life here would soon be history,
too.

Chapter Six

Taking a hard look at the changes we need
to make can be harder than actually making those changes.

—Muriel Sterling, author of
Simplicity

T
oni loved Christmas Eve. It was the one
occasion when she could count on seeing her extended family. They all poured
into her mother’s house in West Seattle—grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins,
second cousins. Even Santa (her crazy uncle Dave) made an appearance, and
everyone got to sit on his lap and receive a present.

“Do I have to have my picture taken with Santa this year?”
Jordan demanded as Wayne parked their SUV in front of the house.

“Of course you do,” Toni said. “We all do.”

“Dumb,” Jordan muttered.

“If you want a present you’ll have to be dumb,” Toni said.

“The present’ll probably be dumb, too.”

She hadn’t complained about last year’s present—the world’s
largest collection of lip gloss. And Toni knew for a fact that this year Aunt
Jana had gotten Jordan an iTunes gift card. “If you’re going to be a party
pooper, then I’ll sit on Santa’s lap and take your present. I know what it
is.”

That worked. “I’ll do it,” her daughter said, but she managed
to sound grudging all the same.

Toni hid her smile. It was never good to gloat when you won a
victory over a child, especially one who was now officially a teenager.

“Me, too,” said Jeffrey, who wasn’t above a little humiliation
if there was a present waiting at the end of it.

As always, her mother’s house said Christmas, with icicle
lights hanging from the roofline and a wreath on the door. Toni could hear
raucous laughter and Christmas music even before they let themselves in.

They hung their coats in the hall closet and then went into the
living room where Toni’s uncle Dennis was saying, “No, I swear it’s true.”

That explained the laughter. Her uncle had told some
preposterous story. At the sight of her and her family, he broke into a grin.
“Well, look who’s here.” He demanded hugs from both kids, told Jordan she was
getting way too pretty and then enveloped Toni in a big bear hug. Uncle Dennis
was a large man and his hugs were almost suffocating, but, next to her father’s,
they were the best.

“Guess you got stuck with us again this year,” he greeted her
husband.

“Afraid so,” Wayne said with a smile, shaking her uncle’s
hand.

“Hello, princess,” her father greeted her. He kissed her
forehead and took in her slacks, black sweater and jauntily draped red scarf.
“You’re looking lovely today.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said. Nice someone noticed. Wayne sure
hadn’t. He’d been too busy being one with his computer.

Okay,
she told herself,
so what if Wayne didn’t notice your outfit? Big deal. He’s
still a good man who works hard to provide for his family. The computer is
not your competition.

Although sometimes she felt as if it were. Even when he wasn’t
working, he was on it half the evening, surfing the web. He always had energy
for the computer, but when his wife wanted to go out...

Oh, there she went again. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault he’d gotten
sick the day they were supposed to have their romantic dinner. She’d come home
from her Icicle Falls adventure to find he’d taken some cold medicine and gone
to bed.

And fallen asleep with his arms around his iPad. Sheesh.

Stop it,
she scolded herself.
It’s Christmas. Don’t be a bitch.

She deposited her gifts under the tree and went to the kitchen
to check in with her mother. Her aunt Karen, resplendent in a Christmas sweater
with dancing polar bears, gave her a kiss in passing as she took the standing
rib roast out to the dining table. Aunt Aggie, her favorite aunt, hugged her and
popped an olive in her mouth, then followed Aunt Karen out, bearing a divided
glass bowl filled with olives and pickles in one hand and a pitcher of milk in
the other. Over at the sink, Jen was whipping cream for the night’s big
dessert—mint chocolate sundaes, with Christmas cookies—and called a cheery
hello.

Toni felt a momentary twinge of guilt. She was usually the one
helping in the kitchen. If they’d gotten out of the house on time, she would’ve
been, but Wayne had found it necessary to work and was still sending emails long
past four, when they would normally have left.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she’d reminded him—repeatedly.

“I know,” he’d said, “and most of us have to work the day of
Christmas Eve.”

Okay,
she’d thought,
but you’d better not be working on Christmas.

She made the rounds, hugging everyone. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late. You’re right on time,” her mother assured
her, offering her cheek for a kiss.

“What can I do?”

“I think we’ve got it all under control,” Mom said.

But she
always
helped. She couldn’t
just do...nothing.

As if reading her mind, her mother added, “How about dishing up
the mashed potatoes?” She pulled the gravy pan off the burner. “Gravy’s done.
You can dish that up, too. Then I’ll take out the roasted vegetables and the
seafood lasagna and we’ll be good to go.”

In a matter of minutes the food was on the table. The revelers
were summoned and everyone gathered around and waited for her father to say
grace.

“Well,” he said, smiling at each of them, “here we are, all
together for another Christmas. Some of us have faced challenges this past
year.”

Toni smiled encouragingly at her cousin Jimmy, who’d lost his
job three months earlier and was still looking for employment. She glanced over
at Aunt Aggie, wearing what she called her half-and-half bra—one half held a
real breast, the other a prosthetic breast form. Toni felt the prickle of tears
as she took in the smiling faces around the table. All these people were so
precious to her.

Her gaze drifted to where her children were sitting. Her sweet
babies. They were growing up so quickly. They were...texting!

Well, one of them was.

“Let’s pray,” said Dad.

They all bowed their heads. Except the texting culprit. And
Toni, who was now shooting daggers at her daughter.

“Dear God, we’re so glad we can be together at this wonderful
time of year.”

There was one “we” who wasn’t exactly together with everyone
else. Toni stepped out of the circle and began to move to where her daughter
stood.

“Thank you for each one here,” Dad continued.

One of them may not be here much longer
because I’m going to throttle her.

“And thank you for the joy of the season.”

And for texting.
Someone’s joy was
about to come to an end. Toni slipped behind her daughter, reached over Jordan’s
shoulder and snatched her cell phone.

Jordan gave a start. This was followed by a guilty look over
her shoulder, almost penitent, until she realized it was Mother the Enemy taking
away her phone. Then she scowled.

“Close your eyes,” Toni hissed.

Jordan closed her eyes and clamped her lips into a thin, angry
line.

“May we always remember to be thankful for our blessings and
thankful for one another.”

Toni doubted her daughter was sending up prayers of thanks for
her right now.

“In the name of our Lord, Amen,” Dad concluded. “And in the
words of Tiny Tim, God bless us, every one.”

“Amen,” everyone echoed.

“Amen,” Toni said, and smiled sweetly at her pouting
daughter.

“Can I have my phone back?” Jordan demanded.

“Yes, once you’ve remembered how to respect the people you’re
with.”

Anyone seeing the expression on Jordan’s face would have
assumed she’d gotten horrible news that the Grinch had kidnapped Justin Bieber.
“Mom!”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Toni said sternly, “we’re here to be with our
family.”

Jordan hurled herself into her chair and glared at her plate,
and Toni returned to her seat at the table, her holiday spirit as good as
smothered. Christmas was supposed to about togetherness. Even if children got
sucked into their phones and their games during the rest of the year, this one
day should be a time of interacting face-to-face with the people in their
lives.

And, of course, her daughter would so want to interact with her
now. Her mother, who was seated next to her at the end of the table, gave her
arm a pat. Naturally Mom had seen. Heck, all sixteen people squeezed around the
long table (plus the little ones at the kids’ table) had seen that lovely
mother-daughter moment.

Jen shot her a sympathetic look from across the table.

“This, too, shall pass,” Mom whispered, and handed her the
basket of French bread slices.

Jordan made a concentrated effort to enjoy her misery for the
rest of the evening. She pouted through dinner and, later, refused to sit with
Santa.

“That’s okay, little girl. I know your mama told you never to
talk to strangers,” joked Santa, aka Uncle David.

“You’re strange, all right,” cracked Uncle Dennis.

Their comic interchange lightened the moment, and the party
went on without Jordan, everyone playing Dirty Santa, a game that involved
stealing presents back and forth, and singing Christmas carols while she sat in
a corner like a miniature Scrooge in drag.

“What’s wrong with Jordan?” Wayne asked as the family indulged
in a raucous debate over whether or not angels could actually sing, as the old
Christmas carol suggested.

“She’s mad,” Toni replied.

“I can see that. Why?”

“You didn’t catch that little scene at dinner?”

“I saw her acting like a stinker.”

“I took away her phone.”

“Whoa. You cut off her lifeline.”

“She was texting during grace.”

Wayne frowned. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I think she can live without her phone for a few
days.”

“That’ll be a merry Christmas,” Wayne predicted.

Sure enough, as soon as they were out the door and going down
the walk, the fun began as Jordan demanded the return of her phone.

“You can have it back after we’re done with Christmas.”

“What!”

“It won’t hurt you to spend some face time with people.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Well, you know, it wasn’t exactly fair to be texting while
Grandpa was saying grace,” Toni said. “In fact, it was downright rude.”

“I was just finishing telling Sarah something.”

“Good. And now you’re finished telling her something until
after our family Christmas tomorrow.”

“I hate you,” Jordan grumbled.

Ah, the power children had to hurt their parents with their
careless anger. Not for the first time, Toni remembered every mean and snippy
word she’d hurled at her own mother when she was a girl.
What goes around comes around,
she thought sadly.

“Yes, I know,” she said to her daughter. “But I love you.”

And maybe come Christmas morning, when Jordan found the
American Eagle handbag she’d been drooling over, along with the clothes from
Abercrombie & Fitch, she’d have dialed down the emotion from hate to strong
dislike.

Meanwhile, next to Jordan, Jeffrey sat happily playing on his
Gameboy.

“How come he gets to have his Gameboy?” Jordan asked
petulantly.

“Because he wasn’t playing during grace,” Toni said.

“
And
I sat on Santa’s lap,” Jeffrey
added.

“Of course you would,” Jordan said scornfully. “You’re just a
kid.”

Toni decided it would be useless to point out that the two
older teens who’d been there hadn’t had a problem posing with Santa in exchange
for a goody. Even the grownups had all taken a turn, pulling on his fake beard
or poking him in his pillow-stuffed tummy, and several of the women had posed
kissing him on the cheek, including Toni.

It really had been a fun evening, enjoyed by everyone except
one surly thirteen-year-old. Once Toni had decided to ignore both her daughter
and her own irritation, she’d had a good time, too. She hoped she’d be able to
enjoy Christmas Day, although she knew her daughter would do her level best to
ensure she didn’t.

Sure enough, Jordan woke on the grumpy side of the bed and
stayed grumpy all through the morning’s present-opening, as well as Christmas
brunch. She was barely polite when they went to visit Wayne’s family that
afternoon.

“You know, if you keep up this bad attitude, you won’t be
getting your phone back until New Year’s,” Toni warned as they drove home.

“Well, it’s not fair.”

“We’ve already had this conversation. You need to think about
how it makes the people who love you feel when you can’t be bothered to look up
from your cellular attachment and talk to them or even listen respectfully when
they’re saying grace. Maybe next time you want to tell Dad or me something
important, we should just ignore you.”

Jordan fell silent, and in the dark car, Toni couldn’t tell if
she was seething or actually considering what her mother had said. Probably the
former.

Once home, both her children vanished to their rooms, Jeffrey
in his normal happy mood, Jordan subdued and serious.

“Do you think anything I said got through to her?” Toni asked
Wayne.

“Oh, yeah. It’s submerged somewhere in her brain and should
surface in about ten years.”

“Thanks.”

He kissed her. “Hey, we still have to get through her learning
to drive.”

There was a scary thought. “And dating.”

“Oh, God, I need a drink,” Wayne said.

He helped himself to a beer, and then, just as she was about to
suggest they put the fireplace to work and snuggle up and listen to some
Christmas music, he pulled out his laptop. “Oh, no, not you, too,” she
groaned.

He looked at her, perplexed. “What?”

She shook her head and reached for the TV remote. “Never
mind.”