I had the pictures Photoshopped, printed, and then framed, with the intention of giving one set to Marge and Liz as a Christmas gift, and keeping another set for myself.
Meanwhile, I was contacted by two more law firms, including a small firm in Atlanta that had stumbled across my recent work on YouTube. As I started to put together the requisite presentations, I found myself reviewing the past six months.
When I’d started my agency, it seemed as though all my worries were business- or money-related, and at the time, I’d found the stress overwhelming. Things, I’d thought, couldn’t get much worse, yet I could distinctly remember Marge reassuring me that everything would turn out fine in the end.
She was right, of course.
On the other hand, she couldn’t have been more wrong.
The holidays continued to approach.
“What are your plans for Christmas? With London?” Marge asked me. It was Sunday afternoon and she’d just woken from a nap, but still looked tired. We were on her couch, where she’d wrapped herself in a blanket, even though the house felt warm to me. She and Liz had returned from New York the day before, and I wanted to see her before London returned from Atlanta. “Have you and Vivian discussed that yet? Christmas is only two weeks away, you know.”
As I stared at my sister, it seemed to me that she’d lost even more weight since I’d seen her at the skating rink. Her eyes had a sunken look about them, and her voice sounded slightly higher and thinner, somehow.
“Not yet,” I said. “But again, it’s falling on one of her weekends.”
“Russ, I know I’ve said it before, but it’s not fair for you not to have any holidays with London.”
No, it wasn’t. But there wasn’t much I could do about it, so I attempted to change the subject.
“How was New York?”
“It was amazing,” Marge sighed. “But the crowds… wow. There were lines down the block just to get into some of the stores. The shows were fantastic, and we had some truly unforgettable meals.” She mentioned some of the musicals they’d seen and restaurants where they’d eaten.
“It was worth it, then?”
“For sure,” she said. “I had the hotel arrange a couple of romantic evenings while we were there, too. Champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, rose petals trailing to the bed. I’d also brought along some new lingerie to show off my newly svelte figure.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I think I blew Liz’s socks off.”
“Why didn’t you want her wearing socks?”
“Really? That’s your thought process?”
“When my sister starts talking about her love life, I choose to retreat into naïveté,” I explained. “It’s not like I share details about my love life.”
“You don’t have a love life with Emily yet. And if you ask me, it’s about time you did something about that.”
“We’re in a good place right now,” I insisted. “We talk every night on the phone, see each other for coffee. And we went out on Friday night.”
“What did you do?”
“Dinner. And karaoke.”
“You did karaoke?” That caught Marge by surprise.
“She did. Then again, it was her idea. She’s pretty good, too.”
Marge smiled as she burrowed deeper into the couch. “That sounds like fun,” she said. “Not really sexy or romantic, but fun. Any bites on your house yet?”
“There have been a few nibbles here and there, but nothing official yet. My Realtor says that December is always slow. She wants to do an open house in January.”
“Let me know when. Liz and I will come by as ringers, and talk up the place in front of potential buyers.”
“You have better things to do than go to an open house.”
“Probably,” she conceded. “Then again, you always seem to end up needing my help in one way or another. I’ve had to take care of you my whole life.” She glanced in the direction of the kitchen, where Liz was preparing lunch. “I’m supposed to have more chemo this week. Next Friday, I think. I’m not looking forward to that at all.” She sighed, a flicker of apprehension crossing her face. She turned to me. “With that in mind, we should probably do our thing on Thursday.”
“What thing?”
“Our trip, remember?” she said. “My Christmas present?”
“You do realize that I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s okay. I’ll pick you up at seven. Liz can get London ready for bed, if that’s all right with you.”
“Of course,” I said. She stifled a yawn and I knew it was time for me to go. “I guess I should take off. I’ve got a ton of work I want to get done before London gets home.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m looking forward to Thursday night. Make sure you dress warmly.”
“I will,” I promised. I rose from the couch, hesitated, then leaned back over to kiss my sister on the cheek. Her eyes were closed. “See you later.”
She nodded without answering, and by the sound of her breathing, I knew she had fallen asleep again, even before I’d reached the front door.
Vivian delivered London around 7:00 p.m. that evening. While the limousine idled out front and London was in the bath, we spoke briefly in the kitchen.
“About Christmas,” she said, cutting to the chase. “I think it would be best if we spend it here. For London, I mean. It’ll be her last Christmas in this house. I can just stay in the guest room, if that’s all right with you.” She reached for her purse and pulled out a slip of paper. “I’ve already bought some things, but it might be easier if you picked up some of this other stuff, so I don’t have to haul everything back here. I made a list. Just save the receipts and we can split it all up at the end.”