Page 50 of Starts With a Bang

Sven stopped at the end of the hallway and turned into my chest. “Don’t toy with me.”

I cupped his face. “Never.”

My parents, John, Janet, and Nana were in the kitchen. Christian and Emerson were nowhere in sight, but I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. Oh, to be a fly on their wall. I nixed that notion as soon as it popped up. As Nana said, time was a-wasting, and I wouldn’t give that debacle another thought.

“Here he is, Nana,” I said, presenting Sven to her with a flourish. “You have an hour to soak up his brilliance before I steal him away again.”

Nana snorted. Her light blue velour tracksuit sported a giant snowman, who conveyed an ornery expression in his coal eyes. “That’s what you think. Janet has some great ideas, and we’re going to check a few off her list, starting with baking cookies.” Nana pressed a finger to her lips for a few seconds. “And I have an idea for something we can add to the festivities.”

“Thanks, Mother,” Janet said. I could tell she’d put a lot of effort into her appearance. She wore tailored jeans and an ivory sweater with a gold-and-silver Christmas tree on the front. Janet wore her hair loose around her shoulders and had applied light makeup. She looked younger and happier than I’d seen her in a long time, and Nana’s praise made her radiant. “What’s your idea?”

Nana clapped her hands together and rubbed them. “An ugly sweater contest. Maybe on Christmas Eve.”

Janet smiled brightly. “I love that idea.”

“Me too,” Mom said. “But I didn’t bring anything like that with me.”

“They sell the ugly-ass things in stores nowadays,” Nana said. “Or we can buy plain sweaters and make them ugly with bits and bobs we find around town.”

“I think that sounds fun,” Sven said.

Dad placed his arm around my mom’s shoulders. “I’m in.”

“Count me out,” John said. He turned from the counter with a travel mug in his hand. He took a casual sip like he didn’t know he’d brought the room down. I studied his dress slacks, button-down shirt, and suit jacket. My uncle hadn’t dressed for a leisurely day in the cabin.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

John held up his mug in my direction as if to salute me but didn’t meet my gaze. He set the cup down to fiddle with the platinum Rolex on his wrist. The custom watch was an anniversary gift from Janet and cost more than I made in a year, a fact Emerson had loved lording over me years ago. “A former colleague is in Vail for the holidays,” John said as he turned back to the counter. “We’re going to meet up for breakfast and catch up on old times.”

Uncle John was the worst liar on the planet. The dropped eye contact, the fidgeting, and the vague reference to a colleague were flashing red signs. Silence blanketed the kitchen as we waited for Janet’s reaction. She’d gone to great lengths to make the holiday special, and it seemed like someone was determined to ruin her efforts at every turn.

My aunt straightened her spine, notched her chin, and turned her back on her husband. “What cookie should we make first?”

“Snickerdoodles,” Mom called out.

“Sugar cookies,” Dad suggested.

“The ones rolled in coconut,” Nana answered.

John narrowed his eyes and studied Janet as if seeing her for the first time. He shook his head, grabbed his coffee, and left the room. Janet’s shoulders drooped a little the moment he was outof sight, but she held her head high. Mom and Nana exchanged a look that told me they didn’t buy John’s excuse either.

“I think we should make linzer cookies,” I said, knowing they were Janet’s favorite.

Mom caught my eye and winked. “Janet makes the best jam for the center.”

“Raspberry,” my dad agreed.

“We can use Christmas tree cutouts in the center,” Nana said.

Janet brightened as if her husband’s betrayal was behind her, but maybe that was how she’d survived nearly five decades of marriage. And perhaps that was where the misunderstanding between us had begun. Refusing to settle for someone who wouldn’t be true to me, I severed ties, no matter how painful. I would not go quietly into the night; I made noise—lots of it—and I unapologetically disrupted the lives of everyone I loved. Maybe it was a generational thing or a power imbalance. Janet might’ve mistakenly believed John held all the cards in his hands. Whatever the reason, she’d denied, deflected, or drowned her sorrows, but it seemed like maybe she was tired of living that way.

“I brought my cookie recipes with me,” Janet said.

“I can start breakfast while you look over the recipes to see if we have everything we need,” Mom said.

“Dom and I can tackle the grocery run if it’s needed,” Sven offered.

Janet cupped his face with both palms. “You’re such dears, but I’d bet hard money that Molly Beth planned for every contingency when she ordered groceries. Her memory is nearly photographic.”

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