Elin Hilderbrand - Winter Stroll

She spritzes on her own perfume. Sighs. But there is no time for wallowing; she heads downstairs to feed the boys.

When Barrett sees his mother all dressed up, his face darkens. “You’re going out?” he says. “Again?”

“I was out for less than two hours last night,” Jennifer says. “And that was a favor to your Auntie Ava. You didn’t even notice I was gone.”

“I did notice you were gone,” Barrett says. “Because Grandpa came up and gave us a lecture.”

“He told us to be nice to you,” Pierce says.

“He did?” Jennifer says. She’s touched that Kelley spoke up on her behalf, but then she wonders if it’s obvious to everyone in her husband’s family that the boys are running her off the rails. Do they suspect she’s on drugs?

Barrett snarls. “You’re all dressed up.”

“Yes. Thank you for noticing.”

“You look nice, Mom,” Jaime says, though his eyes are glued to the TV. He shoots; blood spatters all over the screen.

Jennifer says, “I can order you a pizza from Sophie T’s, or I can go downstairs and make you grilled cheese with tomato.”

“We had pizza last night,” Pierce reminds her. “And grilled cheese with tomato is just pizza in another form.”

“How about Thai food?” Jennifer asks.

“How about you’re neglecting us?” Barrett says. “Keeping us shut up in this room all weekend and making us eat crappy takeout…”

Jennifer stares Barrett down. “Neglecting you?” she says. “You want to see me neglect you? I’m half tempted to leave you here without anything for dinner!” She’s screaming now. Control over her emotions floats away like a balloon. “I tried to get you to come to town with me today and you refused! So don’t tell me I’m keeping you shut up in here! I couldn’t drag you out of here with a team of oxen!”

“Mommy,” Jaime says.

“You have no idea how difficult it is!” she says.

“What about us? ” Barrett says. “We’re the ones who lost our father!”

Kevin pokes his head in. “Everything okay in here?” he asks. “You do know, guys, that we have an inn-ful of guests.”

“Yes, Uncle Kevin,” Jennifer snaps. “We do know that.”

Kevin says, “It’s getting a little loud. I heard you from all the way down the hall.”

Great, Jennifer thinks. Now her family squabbles have been overheard by everyone in the building. She should just pack up the kids and go back to Beacon Hill where they can make a scene in the privacy of their own home. But she can’t bail on the baptism. She says, “I’m sorry, Kevin. I have to feed these guys something for dinner.”

“Isabelle made fried chicken and a big Caesar salad,” he says. “It’s downstairs in the kitchen. Help yourselves.”

Thank you, Isabelle, Jennifer thinks. She doesn’t need drugs. All she needs is the support of this wonderful family she married into.

“How does fried chicken sound, guys?” Jennifer asks.

The boys don’t respond, but they do set down their controllers and follow Jennifer, their neglectful mother, down to the kitchen.

Since Shelby is holding Genevieve-who seems to be taking to her just fine as long as Isabelle isn’t in her direct line of vision-they ask Mr. Bernard to take the pictures. They hand him Ava’s phone, Kelley’s camera, Kevin’s phone, Jennifer’s phone, and Margaret’s phone.

Mitzi is at Kelley’s side, in the manner of a wife. Drake and Margaret are together, Kevin and Isabelle, Ava and Jennifer.

“I’m a seventh wheel,” Ava says.

“Eighth wheel,” Jennifer says, raising her hand.

The men are all in tuxes. Mitzi is in the purple, Margaret in gold, Jennifer in black, Isabelle in winter white, and Ava in dark green. They are all holding flutes of champagne.

“These are great photos,” Mr. Bernard says. “You have a beautiful family.”

“Thank you,” Kelley says.

“Thank you,” Mitzi says.

“Thank you,” Margaret says.

Kevin says, “It doesn’t feel complete without Patrick and Bart.”

“Next year,” Margaret says in her broadcasting voice, meant to convey calm and optimism in the face of any Armageddon. “They’ll be here with us next year.”

Kelley fears that Mitzi or Jennifer might get welled up with emotion. But when all of the photos are taken and the group relaxes, the only person wiping tears from her eyes is Isabelle.

“Isabelle,” Kelley says, “what’s wrong?”

“She doesn’t want to leave the baby,” Kevin says.

“Oh!” Margaret says. She gives Isabelle a hug. “It’s natural to feel that way. I remember being assigned to a story in Morocco when Patrick was two and this one”-here, she points to Kevin-“was a baby, just about Genevieve’s age. And I had to go for a week . The flight to Casablanca lasted seven hours and I cried the whole way.”

“True story,” Kelley says. “I was there.”

“You were working,” Margaret says. “Your mother was there.”

Drake clears his throat.

Margaret wipes a tear from Isabelle’s cheek. “It’s just a few hours,” she says. “The baby will be fine.”

“That’s what I told her,” Kevin says.

Kelley offers Mitzi an arm. “Shall we go?” he says.

She’s riding to the party with Kevin, Isabelle, and Jennifer. Ava stares out the window at the colorful Christmas streets. Normally, the lights and the trees would make her giddy with little-kid wonder, but right now she feels dateless and alone. She can’t because Jennifer is even more alone than Ava is-and for longer.

When they all bundle into the car, Ava says, “Does anyone know if Dad and Mitzi are back together?”

“Don’t start,” Kevin says. “It’s none of our business.”

“George had a lunch date with some other woman at the pharmacy,” Jennifer says. “It seemed like a date-date.”

“Don’t start, ” Kevin says. “It’s none of our business.”

“Isn’t it?” Ava asks. “He’s our father.”

Isabelle pipes up from the front seat. “I think Kelley and Mitzi just worry together about Bart.”

Kevin says, in a voice that puts an end to the subject, “We all worry about Bart.”

Ava decides to call Scott. She wants to hear his voice, and with George showing up out of the blue, she hasn’t had a chance.

He picks up on the sixth ring. Since he’s left, he has either missed Ava’s calls altogether or picked up on the very last ring before voicemail, which bothers Ava. Why is it taking him so long to answer his phone when he keeps it in his front pocket at all times?

Ava doesn’t care to speculate.

“Hello?” he says.

“Hey,” she says. “We’re in the car headed to the party.” She lets this sink in for a beat or two. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” he says, his voice chipper, “Roxanne is out of surgery, she’s awake, and I’m trying to entice her to eat some of this nice vanilla pudding.”

Ava doesn’t quite know what to do with that sentence. She can only picture Scott positioned at Roxanne’s bedside, feeding her. She finds this vision infuriating .

He should be here with her . Not spooning pudding into Roxanne’s mouth.

“Please give Roxanne my best wishes,” Ava says.

“I will,” Scott says. “How was your day?”

“ My day?” Ava asks. The only thing out of the ordinary-other than the drama with Santa and Mrs. Claus-was that Ava received flowers from Nathaniel. Thinking of the flowers from Nathaniel only serves to make Ava even angrier-because the flowers should have been from Scott! But Scott didn’t think to send Ava flowers because he was too busy trying to entice Mz. Ohhhhhh to eat her pudding.