Page 12 of Knotting With A Stranger

I turn my phone face-down. I’m so far past the point of no return with her, but right now, I can’t bring myself to care.

3

LILY

“If I throw myself out of this moving vehicle as a reason not to attend the gathering, would that be considered dramatic or resourceful?” I ask from the backseat, watching snowflakes dance in the headlights of Hannah’s Honda. She catches my eye in the rearview mirror, her dark chocolate hair perfectly coiled in its French twist, one manicured eyebrow arching as she unconsciously taps her fingers against the steering wheel in time to the classical music drifting from the speakers.

“Dramatic,” she says from behind the wheel.

“Resourceful,” Dad votes from the passenger front seat, his weathered hands brushing down the length of the knitted vest he wears over a cream button-up shirt. Silver hair glints from the passing streetlights, and laugh lines deepen around the edges of his mouth. “And if you do it, I’m right behind you. Though, I recommend we claim food poisoning first. More dignified.”

“You haven’t eaten anything yet,” Hannah points out, rolling her eyes. Out of the three of us, she loves these family parties the most. No idea why, in all honesty.

Dad holds up his full travel mug. “This gas station coffee begs to differ. I can feel the salmonella forming already.”

“That’s just your annual case of Family Gathering Fever,” Hannah says, twisting her head to face him. “Symptoms include sudden onset excuses, mysterious ailments, and an overwhelming urge to flee north.”

I giggle from the backseat.

“The urge to flee is completely normal.” He adjusts his vest for the hundredth time. “Martha’s meatloaf tried to kill me last year.”

“We’re going,” Hannah says firmly, but I catch her fighting a smile in the rearview mirror. “They’re family.”

“They’re Mom’s family,” I counter as more snow dusts the evergreens as we climb higher into the mountains. “Who, might I add, only remember we exist once a year when Great-Aunt Martha needs to prove what a generous and caring matriarch she is.”

The car falls quiet except for Hannah’s classical festive music on the radio. Through the windshield, I stare at the lights of Whispering Grove fading behind us as we climb toward the wealthy northern enclave where Mom’s family lives. Where they’ve always lived, looking down both figuratively and literally on our little town.

“When we lost your mother, or when your grandma went into a nursing home,” Dad says softly. “Did any of them offer to help? To watch you girls while I worked doubles?”

“Martha sent a casserole,” Hannah offers weakly.

“That wasn’t a casserole. That was a weapon of mass destruction.” I remember the gray, gelatinous mass. “Pretty sure it violated the Geneva Convention.”

“I’m not saying they’re perfect.” Hannah’s knuckles whiten slightly on the steering wheel. “But they’re all we have left of Mom’s side. And maybe if we made more effort…”

“We’re not the ones who should be making the effort,” I say, more sharply than intended. “Where were they when Mom was building the bakery up after taking it over from Grandma because she needed round the clock care?”

“Your mother,” Dad says carefully. “She loved these gatherings despite everything. She’d light up just walking through Martha’s door, no matter what awaited inside. So, Hannah, you’re right. We need to attend.”

She grins at me through the rearview mirror. I huff.

I think back to Mom dancing in the kitchen while mixing cookie dough. Mom laughing as she taught us to braid bread dough. Mom squeezing Dad’s hand when Martha made comments about hissimplecareer choices.

Mom choosing joy, even when it was hard.

“Ten minutes,” Dad announces, checking his watch. “That’s my limit. Then I’m faking a stroke.”

“Twenty minutes,” Hannah counters. “At least stay through appetizers.”

“Fifteen,” I offer. “And we create a signal. If anyone mentions our sad, single Omega statuses, we implement emergency evacuation procedures.”

Hannah ignores me.

Dad frowns as Great-Aunt Martha’s Victorian monstrosity comes into view. “Sweet mercy, did she add more lights?”

The house resembles something from a Hallmark movie that took a wrong turn and ended up in Vegas. Every inch is covered in twinkling lights, giant candy canes, and what appears to be a small army of animatronic reindeer. The effect is less festive and moreChristmas having a nervous breakdown.

“I count three new inflatable snowmen,” I report. “And... is that a life-size Santa sleigh on the roof?”

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