Page 54 of Thick and Thin

When he closed it after the last page, he didn’t look at me for a bit. Instead, he stared at the back of the album—but I couldn’t tell what he was feeling, likely because I was afraid he hated it. In this book I’d encapsulated as much of his childhood and his mother that I could, not liking how so many snapshots and portraits had just been shoved in a large box never to be thought of again.

His mother was a woman who should be remembered. And Sinclair was a man whose childhood shouldn’t be stuffed down as something to forget or ignore…because it had led him to be the man he was today.

The man I adored.

When he finally met my eyes, he stroked my cheek. “Thank you, Lise. I think this is the nicest gift I’ve ever received.”

And then we kissed—and kissed some more. But I stopped us before it got too passionate. “I have to go, Sinclair.”

“Just wait a little longer. I promise you’ll be glad you did.” Then he stood, placing the scrapbook album on my bed. “For now, I challenge you to a game of chess.”

I knew for certain something was up—not just because of what he’d said but also when he continued to ask for not one but two rematches.

When we finally returned downstairs, Edna had set three places at the table—but when she served us bowls of butternut squash soup and crusty bread, she didn’t sit down with us. I waited for a bit but when Sinclair started eating, I thought maybe she’d simply join us when she was ready. After all, when she sat with us this morning, it had been a pleasant and welcome surprise.

But Edna left the kitchen after a bit and Sinclair asked, “What do you and your father normally eat for Christmas dinner?”

“It depends. Sometimes it’s a lot like Thanksgiving—but other times we try something completely different. Like last year, we had Italian food. I probably shouldn’t be allowed to try making calzones ever again.”

He laughed. “Why is that?”

“Let’s just say cooking isn’t one of my innate talents.”

“Oh, I disagree. I saw what you and Edna did at Thanksgiving.”

“I can’t take credit for that. That was all Edna.”

Just then, Greg’s voice cut through the kitchen. Strange, because I thought he and his wife had already left. “Mr. Whittier, where would you like me to place the luggage?”

“In the room next to Lise’s.”

“Same side of the hall?”

“Yes.”

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight, but I didn’t know why—until Edna entered the room…with my father beside her.

Chapter 20

Dropping my spoon, I stood and ran to the doorway, hardly believing my eyes. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

He grinned, taking me into his arms—and it didn’t escape my notice that he was using his old walking stick and not his walker. “I was invited.”

“What?”

By the time we stopped hugging, Sinclair was standing next to us. “I invited your father here—so you didn’t have to be torn between us.”

There was no stopping the tears that began gushing out of my eyes—because that meant that both he and my father had agreed to this.

Were Sinclair and my dad no longer enemies?

Edna put a hand on my arm, leading me into the heart of the kitchen and handing me a tissue, but Sinclair and my dad weren’t far behind. Once I turned back to face them, my dad said, “Sinclair called and invited me to spend Christmas here. After what you’d told me about Thanksgiving…” he said, looking at me—but then turning his head to face Sinclair, “about your plans to restore Winchester to its former beauty, to reopen the mine but this time as an environmentally sound one that causes less damage and gives more jobs to people, I rethought my stance about you. Your father and I will never see eye to eye, but I know the sins of the father don’t necessarily dictate what his children will do—and I don’t believe the BS that those sins are passed along. You make your own way in this world and, son, you’ve proven to me that you’re a good man.”

Something I’d been telling myself about Sinclair for a while now as his true self was revealed to me.

Both men shook hands. Sinclair said to me, “When I called your father a couple of weeks ago, I invited him for Christmas—but then, when I told him my intentions, we changed the conversation.”

I had no idea what he could mean.

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