Page 18 of Her Counterfeit Christmas
“I don’t need one,” Brady says. He doesn’t look up from his book.
We stayed up late last night so he could tell me about it. I tried to follow, but had a hard time because I kept thinking about Layla. I hope she’s okay after the way she acted when she received that text. I wish she had given me her number so I could check and make sure.
Mom raises her eyebrows and stares at the top of Brady’s greasy mop of hair. He must feel her attention because he glances up at her.
“You need a shower,” she says. “You smell like a wadded-up swimming suit left in a towel, forgotten in the back of a closet for a month. You’ll have to survive without your book for twenty minutes.”
“It’s the exciting part,” he whines.
She puts her hands on her hips. “It’s always the exciting part when I ask you to do something. Shower, got it?”
He nods reluctantly, then goes back to the book.
“Be ready by the time I get out of the bathroom,” Mom warns before she moves down the hallway.
The moment the bathroom door shuts, Brady looks up and focuses on me. “Why are we going to Maine? Mom won’t tell me anything except Grandmother invited us. It sucks because I’m missing my Dungeons and Dragons session.”
As upsetting as that is for Brady, I’d bet he’s more nervous about meeting his grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins he’s barely heard about. Mom was ostracized by her family when she married Dad. I spent summers in Maine when I was a teenager but, besides our cousin Tori, I haven’t spoken to the rest of the family in eight years.
Even if Mom doesn’t want Brady to meet her family with any preconceived notions, he should understand what we’re walking into this Christmas.
“What do you know about mom’s parents?” I ask.
“Just that they didn’t like Dad. Mom hasn’t seen them since before I was born. After Grandfather died, Grandmother started talking to her occasionally. Mom goes into her room and cries after every call. It’s weird.”
Mom’s family is weird, and I blame it all on Grandfather.
“Do you know why Mom’s family didn’t like Dad?” I ask.
“Because he didn’t have money?”
“Yep, and he wasn’t planning on making any either. Math teachers aren’t exactly wealthy, and money means everything to the Ecclestons. When Dad proposed, Grandfather warned Mom she’d be disowned if she married him.”
“She married him anyway.” There’s pride in Brady’s tone.
“From that day until I turned ten, her parents, brother, and sister ignored her existence. Grandfather decided a male grandchild was worth breaking his silence for, and he reached out to Mom about having me live with them.”
He tilts his head. “To live with them forever?”
“Yeah. They were raising our cousin who’s a few years older than me, and Grandfather wanted us both to grow up to be like him. Mom said no way. Grandfather offered her money. She refused. He said he’d pay my college tuition when I was old enough to go to college. She compromised and said I could stay with them for two months over the summer, but only if I wanted to.”
Brady leans back in his chair. “How did you get Mom to tell you all of this? She never talks to me about her family.”
Mom’s family is a taboo topic. I think it hurts too much for her to talk about them.
“It was Dad who told me.”
His confusion over how I know so much clears. He thinks for a minute. “They have a lot of money then?”
I laugh at how understated that sounds. “Yes, they have a lot of money. Grandfather thought that gave him the right to dictate everyone’s lives.”
“They would’ve liked Dad if they had known him.”
Brady was six when Dad died. He never got the chance to know him like I did, but everyone loved Dad. At his funeral, former students, college friends, and people from all over the city packed the place. Our grandparents missed out by dismissing him because of his profession and lack of family connections.
“I think so too,” I say.
He twirls his fork along the top of the table. “Grandfather called the summer I turned ten and asked if I wanted to visit. I didn’t want to.”
