One More for Christmas

Ella sighed. “Michael, this isn’t the eighteenth century. That isn’t what I’m talking about. She thinks marriage is the worst decision a woman can make.”

Michael looked at Samantha, who shrugged.

“She’s not wrong. Our mother has serious issues when it comes to romantic relationships. Luckily for you, Ella doesn’t seem to have inherited those.”

“Issues? Because your father died so young?”

“I suppose so. She doesn’t talk about it.” Samantha was watching Tab out of the corner of her eye. “Or maybe we didn’t talk about it because we didn’t get a good reaction when we did. But she was adamant that we should always be financially independent. It’s almost a phobia for her. She wanted us to go into what she saw as ‘safe,’ high-earning professions. Law. Medicine. Business.”

And the more their mother had pushed, the faster Ella had retreated. She’d known it was wrong for her.

“Can you see me as a lawyer?” She was relieved to see Michael smile.

“No,” he said. “I can’t. You’d hate it.”

He knew so much more about her than her own mother did.

“Also, if you’d been a lawyer it would have deprived the teaching profession of the best teacher who ever trained.” He held out his hand. “Come here.”

She felt a rush of emotion. “You’re not angry?”

“A little hurt, maybe, that you didn’t feel able to tell me the truth.”

“Oh Michael—” She went into his arms and leaned on him, wrapped, warm, safe. “I was afraid you wouldn’t understand.”

“I don’t have to understand everything about you to love you.”

Could he really love the wet, pathetic creature she became around her mother?

Ella closed her eyes and pushed that thought away. Despite everything that was happening with her mother, in that moment she felt something close to perfect happiness. She had the things that mattered most in her life. Tab. Michael. Also, her sister.

Her sister.

For a moment she’d totally forgotten her sister.

At that moment she registered the rhythmic tapping of Samantha’s foot on the floor.

Still holding on to the front of Michael’s coat, Ella turned and faced her.

Samantha unwrapped her scarf from her neck. “While I’m touched and heartened that you two seem to have been able to push past your personal issues so quickly, it doesn’t change the fact that at the moment we appear to be spending Christmas in Scotland with our mother.” She unbuttoned her coat. “I’m not sure which part of that sentence is giving me hot flashes. The Scottish part, or the mother part.”

Michael stepped to one side as two overenthusiastic children charged past him, closely followed by their apologetic father who clearly hadn’t mastered the art of parental control.

“Because your mother didn’t make a fuss about Christmas? It seems she was pretty firm with you when you were growing up, so maybe she responds to that level of directness.”

Ella’s insides lurched and she pulled away from him. “Can we be realistic here? Arguing with our mother is a blood sport, and I’m not into blood sports. I carry spiders outside. I can’t fight with her.”

“You don’t need to fight with her, just be firm.” He pulled her back, keeping her locked against him. “And you’re not doing it alone. This time you have me.”

Samantha gave a grunt and rolled her eyes. “I’ve been wondering what to buy you for Christmas and now I know—a suit of shining armor.”

“Let her know that if she is spending Christmas with us, she has to observe our rules.”

Samantha raised her eyebrows. “Spoken like a lawyer. Are you suggesting we draw up a contract? I agree to not frown or utter a word of disapproval when I see fairy lights?”

“She wouldn’t be able to do it,” Ella said. “Even if you made her sign something. Christmas is a feeling, isn’t it? And she doesn’t have those feelings.”

“You’re forgetting one thing...” Michael looked at the dollhouse, where Tab was currently moving furniture around to make room for a library. “She has a granddaughter.”