Page 91 of A Lucky Shot

Josh pushed the memory aside. “When are you two retiring?”

“When we run out of houses to sell—” his mother started.

“And contracts to negotiate,” his father finished, and they laughed in tandem at the joke they’d told a thousand times in the past, but Josh chilled at the reminder.

He could have retired earlier if I had taken over like we planned. It was on him, not his father. His father had never said it, not once. Two more years and Josh could have taken over the practice. But they both knew it was true. Right now, his father could be limbering up for his golf game instead of driving across the city to meet with clients days before Christmas.

“What kind of crazy people want to have meetings on December twenty-third?” Josh said.

His father grinned. “Lots of them.”

Josh frowned and pulled up the calendar on his laptop balanced on the couch pillow beside him. Filming had wrapped, and after a boozy party last night—where everyone except him and Cass had consumed their weight in alcohol—everyone who wasn’t local had scattered back to their homes for the two-week break. Cass had begged off early, and he’d watched her exit the pub with a closed expression and her phone in her hand.

He reminded himself it wasn’t his business if she was texting another guy and spent the rest of the night scowling into his tepid kombucha.

People had refreshed flight departure notifications with nervous energy, but everyone had made it out as planned. Everyone needed the break. Including himself. Eight days before filming resumed. Nine, if he included today. He scrolled through the remaining flights back to Vancouver, grimacing at the remaining departure times.

“What’s the plan for Christmas?” If he booked now, he could still get the last flight out tomorrow.

His mother glared at his father. “You didn’t tell him? You said you were going to tell him!”

A sheepish look was the only reply.

“We’re leaving for Oz tomorrow,” his mother said, and then looked uncomfortable. “Grace is staying here, but I’m not sure what she’s doing.”

She knew what his sister was doing. They both did. Which fully precluded Josh from joining her. He bit down on his reply.

“Or we could get you a ticket,” his father said, brightening. “It can be your Christmas present.”

It was tempting, but that was a lot of travel and crushing jetlag for what would end up being four days of visit. And he’d be on the other side of the world if an issue came up on set.

“Or maybe your sister will change her plans,” his mother said about the plans she’d just said she knew nothing about. “I could add her to the call?—”

“No.” He’d heard the arguments enough to last a lifetime.

His father’s voice softened. “Son?—”

“When’s your flight?” he interrupted.

“Seven a.m.”

That was so perfectly his dad. All that money and still flying on a holiday to save the flight fare. Josh snickered despite himself. “You cheap bastard. Think they’ll serve turkey on the plane?”

“I hope not,” his mother said, the smile held on her mouth but faded from her eyes. “We’ll try not to call you in the middle of the night on Christmas.”

Josh signed off the call and stared down at the black screen. Christmas in his family was practically just another day. And if he couldn’t spend it with his parents, then spending it alone for the third year was infinitely preferable to the alternative, as much as he’d love to see his sister again. At least, like it used to be.

He sat on the floor and stared at the blank wall that never decided what it wanted to be. Its expanse had mocked him as he sat for hours in front of it. His original idea of the mountains, the Rockies or North Shore, never took hold. A passing fancy of a drone’s eye view of the confluence of the rivers came and went.

Did it matter if he started the mural now? He could just plan how to paint over the one he had at his condo back home or review the revised schedule for the final shots he’d need to get back to Vancouver for, anyway. So long as he missed the holiday itself.

A blunt pounding rattled his door.

He should have just had an extra key cut.

“Did you get your flights?” Stephen barged his way past Josh and into the kitchen. He stuck his head into the fridge before rifling through the cupboards. “You have no food.”

“Please, help yourself.”

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