“Oh, that’s nice. Anyone I know?”
“Just some friends,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
“Well, maybe we could stop by after dinner at Mom and Dad’s. The boys would love to see Emma and Jake.”
I almost laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was so predictable. Now that I had a house, now that I had a dining room, now suddenly my kids existed again in her brain.
“I don’t think that’s going to work out,” I said. “We’ll be pretty busy with our guests.”
A pause. “Guests, like a party?”
“Something like that.”
“Sarah, you know you’re always welcome at Mom and Dad’s. Last year was just—”
“I need to go,” I said, voice calm. “The kids need dinner.” I hung up before she could guilt me into anything.
On Christmas morning, Emma and Jake opened presents in our beautiful living room, then helped me set the table with my new china and crystal. The house smelled amazing. The chef arrived at ten and had been working magic ever since. At two, my guests arrived, and the house filled with laughter and warmth in a way it never had before, not because of the square footage, but because the people inside it actually wanted to be there.
Mrs. Chen brought cookies the kids devoured. Lisa’s daughters bonded with Emma over art. Michael and James entertained Jake with card tricks so convincing he actually believed his dad’s old quarter had turned into a jelly bean. Sophie brought a ridiculous bottle of sparkling cider for the kids and insisted everyone do a toast “to new traditions.”
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