Page 110 of Calamity Rayne Knocked Up

“Well, it does in mine. We Meyers might be weird and quirky and a little scatter-brained at times, but at our core we’re just boring, normal people. Christmas is next week, and I want us all together at one table. No strangers. No business colleagues. Just family—and that includes Marta, Raoul, and Alphonse.”

“Rayne, the staff?—”

“The staff is family, Hale. We did Thanksgiving the Davenport way, but I’m claiming Christmas. I want cranberries from a can and green beans with those crispy fried onions and a basic bitch honey-baked ham. The.End.” I shoved myself off the couch because I had to pee.

“I’m fine with that. But I can’t guarantee the guestlist.”

I shot him a threatening look. “Then figure out a way to fix it. I’m off stress. This has officially become your problem—doctor’s orders.” I waddled to the bathroom.

That’s Not a Red Rider BB Gun

My mom and I did all the Christmas cooking, which meant the food would be mediocre at best. But dinner tasted like childhood and brought back memories. And, for that, I was happy.

I wasn’t sure what Hale said to Remington, but he was there. He came over Christmas morning with a reasonable amount of gifts that didn’t outshine Santa, and managed to keep his commentary to a minimum.

I wanted to avoid a tit-for-tat gift-off in which the men tried to outdo each other. I would not let my daughter’s personality pay the price for their competitive spoiling. She already lived the life of a toddler princess inextreme privilege. As her mother, I felt it was my job to set boundaries and keep her grounded.

Hale didn’t hold the same concern I did about things like that. He simply accepted that it was the top one percent’s right to live a life built entirely around excessive luxury. But I stood my ground because I didn’t want my kids to grow up as an entitled little assholes.

Some privilege I’d allow, but I still wanted Elara’s upbringing to resemble mine. There could be a car when they turned sixteen, but nothing over the top. She would only need something dependable and safe to get her to work, because my kid was going to have a job. I didn’t care how big her trust fund was. Employment gave a person a greater purpose, and I wanted her to learn the value of a hard day’s work.

Birthdays would be reserved for the family unless it was a milestone year—double digits, turning into a teen, sweet sixteen, eighteen, and of course, twenty-one. Filler years would be reserved for classroom cupcakes, random sleepovers, and casual picnics around the pool. There would be no private chefs, yacht galas, island excursions, or ski resorts in Aspen. Not for my babies.

These were not pressing concerns of Hale’s, but they were the thoughts that kept me up at night while I was growing a human in my womb. Other mothers in Davenport’s social circle were already whispering about waiting lists for private pre-K academies and middle-grade prep-schools.

One woman at a function mentioned her son’s private tutor. She expected him to be multilingual in four languages and fluent before age five. I told her that Elara figured out Blue’s clue almost every single time.

She wasn’t impressed. But I was.

As I carried out a tray of mangled sugar cookies Elara and I made, I walked them around the table to each guest so Elara could hand them out. She was so proud of her work and happy to share her cookies with those she loved.

“Did you make these, Meyers?” Remington frowned at the lopsided confection

“Elara and I did.”

He smiled at his granddaughter. “Thank you, angel.”

“Eat it, Pop-Pop.” She pushed his hand toward his mouth, forcing him to take a bite.

“Mmm,” he said, looking up at me with concern. “Is theremilk?”

My mom carried out a tray of milk and coffee. Marta served a red velvet cake she made, which—I’m not gonna lie—totally overshadowed our cookies.

After supper, we moved to the den and watchedA Christmas Story.The Davenports didn’t understand our affinity with the movie, and Barrett earned the stink eye when he called it stupid.

I survived countless fundraisers, balls, auctions, elaborate dinner parties, and mind-numbing business functions for these people. They would stomach my cheesy Christmas traditions -- even if they had to choke them down one dry swallow at a time.

Hale lifted my socked feet onto his lap and massaged my swollen ankles as I watched Ralphie suck on a bar of soap. To this day, the movie made me laugh.

Marta fussed over Elara’s new toys, as she showed them off to her. Remington and my mother chatted quietly in the dining room while Seraphina texted friends and updated her social media with holiday selfies.

There were no outsiders. Only us. And, for once, things seemed imperfectly perfect.

When the movie ended, everyone said goodnight. I forced leftovers on Remington,which confused him, so he handed them off to Marta with a mumble about being mistaken for a food bank.

“Thank you,Niña,” Marta said, accepting the doggy bag of cookies and ham then kissing me on my cheek. “You did a beautiful job. And,” she pinched my cheek, “everyone was civil.”

I smiled. Small victories shaped big changes.

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