Page 111 of Kiss Me at Christmas
“I know.”
“But what about Morgan?”
“You think there’s something going on between them?” Maisy asked.
“No,” she conceded. “But I don’t know how far he’ll go to make amends.”
Maisy held up two oversized chunky knit cardigans.
“Both, obviously,” said Harriet.
“It sounds to me like he’s still working out how to navigate having a surprise family.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to invest in somebody who doesn’t have their ducks in a row yet.”
“Sheesh! You and your ducks!” Maisy exclaimed.
“What? You leave my ducks alone. Anyway, even if nothing romantic ever happens between him and Morgan, I could still be setting myself up to get left in the lurch a lot.”
“Or maybe Lyra and Morgan are the perfect excuse for someone as risk-averse as you not to put yourself out there?”
“I am not risk-averse!”
“Mum, you choose exactly the same curry, side dish, and naan bread every single time we go to the Everest Inn.”
“That’s just being sensible, I know that I like their vegetable bhuna, aloo gobi saag, and peshwari naan and if I ordered something different and I didn’t like it I’d be disappointed, which would be a waste of money.”
Maisy laughed and lobbed a bottle of perfume acrossthe room, where it landed on top of the pile of clothes in her case.
“Now play that back in your head and tell me that’s not risk-averse.”
Harriet narrowed her eyes. “Choosing a curry is not the same as committing to a relationship.”
“Well, that’s just a matter of perspective,” Maisy said smugly.
Harriet chuckled at being outpsyched by her seventeen-year-old daughter.
“Well, you’re no help. Don’t roll your dress like that, you’ll never get the creases out.”
“There!” Maisy said, leaning bodily on her suitcase to click it shut. “I’m packed.”
Harriet was suddenly flooded with the knowledge that for the next few years her relationship with her daughter would revolve around suitcases being packed and unpacked as she traveled back and forth between home and university, until one day she would pack up her suitcase and leave to find a place of her own to call home.
“Mum?” Maisy was studying her with a concerned look on her face. “You all right?”
“I’m fine, darling.” She swallowed hard. “You know that I love you more than the sun and the moon and all the stars put together, don’t you?”
Maisy smiled. “I love you too.”
With a knock at the door, Savannah stepped into her room.
“Hi, Harriet!” she said brightly. “We’re going to see the living nativity on the corner of Main Street, do you mind if I steal your daughter away?”
“No, not at all. Go, have fun!”
She managed not to cry until after Maisy had hung up.
Later, as she lay in bed, pondering Maisy’s words, she wondered if her daughter might be onto something. Was James the king prawn rogan josh, Bombay aloo, and keema naan that she’d always wanted to try but had never dared? Sure, the vegetable bhuna had never let her down, there was safety in the bhuna and that was not to be sniffed at, but might the rogan josh be an even better fit for her if she only gave it the chance? “Ugh!” she groaned, flinging the duvet off. “Now I’ve made myself hungry!” And she padded out to the kitchen in search of crackers, cheese, and mango chutney.
