Page 24 of Ten Christmases Without You
“We talked about it, and you’re the one who was always creative like her. We think you should have them.”
“I actually brought my own designs to show him. It might be fun to compare them to Mom’s.”
“I’d love to see your latest designs. You could frame them side by side and put them up in your apartment.”
Her dingy dwelling was definitely not the place for her mother’s designs. But at least she’d have them, and one dayshe’d hopefully be in a place where she could display them properly.
CHAPTER TEN
You’re curling your hair again. I like the new style,” Madison said, peeking her head through the open doorway to the bathroom the next morning.
“See? I do try things that are out of the ordinary,” Emmy teased.
“Curled hair versus straight hair—don’t shake up the entire universe.”
She wrapped a lock of hair around her curling iron. “It might be insignificant, but it’s a start.”
“Yes, it is a start,” Madison said. “I’m glad to see you putting more effort into yourself. You deserve to feel great. You’re a talented, beautiful woman.”
“Thank you.” Where would she be without her sister?
“I dug this out of the closet for you.” Madison placed a large envelope on the counter. “It’s Mom’s designs.”
Emmy set the curling iron down and ran her hand along the envelope, fighting the urge to dig into it right away. Charlie was coming over, and this wasn’t the time.
“Thank you.” She scooted it out of the way of her makeup and hair products. “Have you looked at them?”
“I flipped through them. They’re mostly rough sketches. They’ve been torn out of a notebook.”
“I can’t wait to look at them.”
They shared a moment of eye contact through the mirror.
“So why are you putting so much effort into yourself this morning?” Madison asked. “Could it be Charlie?” Her eyebrows bobbed annoyingly.
“No comment,” Emmy replied. “But he did text that he’d be over soon.” She shook out her curls, scrutinizing her reflection. “I wore my new shirt yesterday, so I don’t have anything nice now.”
Madison looked thoughtful and then stepped into the bathroom and linked arms with her. “I’ve got an idea.”
They went down the hall and into their dad’s bedroom.
He was sitting in the chair in the corner, reading—the way he’d started every day since Emmy was a girl. But this time, he wasn’t reading a novel.
“What’s that?” Emmy walked over to view the stack of paperwork in his lap.
He got up, turned the papers face down on the nightstand, and set his pen on top, his gaze moving between Emmy and Madison. “I was hoping to wait until after Christmas to tell you.”
“What, Dad?” Madison asked.
His chest rose and then fell with his breath. “I’m selling the house.”
Neither sister said a word. Was Madison as shocked as Emmy?
Everywhere Emmy looked, she saw her mother: The table downstairs in the kitchen nook where she’d had her coffee every morning; the sofa by the fireplace where she used to read; and the bathroom sink, the place she’d taught Emmy how to braid her hair. If she didn’t have this house to come back to, would her mother feel farther away?
“It’s just me here—all alone in this big house. I don’t need it anymore,” her dad said, his voice breaking. “It’s time to let another family build memories here.”
The grief still lingered on her father’s face. Suddenly, Emmy realized that while she loved coming home to all those memories of her mom once or twice a year, her dad had to endure all the little reminders of her mother every day. It had been long enough. He deserved to move on. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. The house and their possessions were just things. She’d still love her mom with or without them. And she had the memories to hang onto. Emmy nodded, but a lump had formed in her throat. She met Madison’s gaze.
