Page 37 of The Best of Times
She followed this up with one of her looks that suggested resistance was futile.
“Yes, Mother.”
Victoria glanced at Aron, worry etched on her face. He nodded. It would be fine.
Andrew wouldn’t remember most of the arguments. Victoria, however, hadn’t fared as well. She’d tried to defend him but his mother and sometimes grandfather were a forceful duo. In the end, he’d told her not to get involved. It was unfair that her life should be ruined by such bigotry.
She squeezed his hand as Granny led them out. For the first time in probably twenty years, Aron was alone in a room with just his parents.
“Come. Sit down,” his father said.
Aron complied. It was one of those moments where time felt like wading through treacle. He seemed to take an inordinate amount of time sitting at his place before meeting his mother’s gaze.
“Your father told me that New York has had a good effect on you,” his mother ventured. “You look healthy. I must say.”
“So do you,” he replied. “New haircut?”
She stroked the back of her head. “Oh yes. I felt like a change. Not as chic as New York but I like it.”
The Aron of yesteryear would have leapt on that as a dig. Instead, he let it float past. He would demonstrate that he was impervious to any perceived attack. Years of therapy had taught him how to hold himself together. This was the first time he had put it to the ultimate use. He would not fail.
“Tea?” his father asked.
“Sure.”
His mother hadn’t taken her eyes off him. A new occurrence. Usually, she couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.
“Are you enjoying it?” she asked. “New York, I mean.”
“I am. There’s never a dull moment. How about you? Are you still on the hospital board?”
Aron’s maternal grandfather had been big in medicine. An irony that the cruellest man Aron had ever met would make it in the caring profession.
“Oh yes. It keeps me busy.”
Silence descended. In some ways their awkwardness was more painful to Aron than all the insults they’d hurled at each other over the years. There had been good times. They were the ones he tried to block out the most. It was too painful to remember.
“Aron,” his mother said. “It really is good to see you.”
Hope glimmered within him. A flame that he thought he’d doused many years ago. He needed to force it down. It was far too dangerous to play with.
“You too. Both. And how exciting that we’re meeting for Granny’s wedding. Who would have thought it?”
I need to get on neutral ground. At least until I’ve sussed this out.
His mother nodded. “Yes. There’s hope for us all to change, I suppose.”
Her meaningful expression unnerved Aron. Thankfully, the moment was broken by Granny and his siblings returning.
“We’ve gone for the Christmas afternoon teas,” Andrew said, flopping into the chair next to Aron. “Bloody love mince pies.”
“They’re considered a delicacy in New York. It took me ages to find a baker that did them,” Aron replied.
“And fizz,” Victoria added. “It is a celebration after all.”
“Quite right,” Aron’s father said.
Granny sat on Aron’s other side. Her presence instantly calming him. The lack of natural light in the room did give it an intense atmosphere. Probably amazing for an intimate meal. Not great for a tense family reunion.
