Christmas at the Riverview Inn

Yeah. She got that.

In the end Max found out what Delia was hiding and managed to keep all of them safe, but not before wounding Josie’s birth father in a shoot-out right in the middle of the lodge.

Max and Delia fell in love in the middle of all that drama, and when the time came for Mom to pick a place to settle, her heart made the decision. And the Riverview became their home.

“Are you still loving life in the city?” Mom asked, changing the subject.

“It’s exciting,” Josie said, which was her pat answer. And it was true—there was always something going on. What she didn’t say was that she was too busy to enjoy any of it.

“You know…you can tell me if it’s not.”

Josie scowled. “Mom, I don’t know why you want me to be unhappy.”

Delia scowled right back. “There’s a difference between wanting you to be unhappy and wanting you to admit you’re unhappy.”

“That’s a pretty fine hair you’re splitting.” Josie took a sip of her coffee in an effort to drown this weird rage in her stomach. This, she thought, this is why I don’t come back to the Riverview. And usually she let it all go—that bruise she never poked. But this morning, exhausted and busy, she felt like poking it.

She put her cup down.

“Is it that you don’t like the show? Or that you can’t be proud of me because you don’t like it?” Josie asked. “I’m the youngest executive producer at the network.”

She didn’t say anything about how the network chewed up producers like they were gum and somehow—through the sheer stubbornness she’d inherited from her mother, perhaps—she had been the last one standing.

“That’s not it. I just feel like you punish yourself with your job. With a job you don’t really even like.”

Oh, that hit her weird. Like, in her belly. Was that true? It felt true in a way.

“Well, I just feel like all the stuff I’ve accomplished isn’t the right stuff for you,” she said. “Like you’d be more proud of me—”

“Stop. Right there. I am proud. So proud.” Mom put her hand over Josie’s. “I’ve messed this up. Honey…” She took a deep breath. “I only want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy.”

A smile teased Mom’s lips and Josie understood why. Nothing about the way she’d said those words was convincing. But Josie refused to smile and Mom’s smile slowly vanished. And they went back to sipping coffee and looking out over mountains.

“Can I say one more thing?” Delia asked.

“Can I stop you?” Now she was smiling. God. Mom did not change. The phrase dog with a bone came to mind.

“You’re too good for that show. Too talented. You have big, beautiful ideas and a big, beautiful brain and heart, and you always have.”

“That’s a nice vote of confidence, Mom, but there are a thousand of me in the city.”

“Never,” Mom said fiercely and grabbed Josie’s hand to kiss it. “Never.”

Oh, in staying away from the Riverview she’d also been staying away from her mom, which was a little like starving herself of faith and affection. No one believed in her like her mother, and that kind of power source was sadly lacking in her Queens apartment.

Everyone’s mom thought they were extraordinary and she’d gotten used to not having the pressure of living up to that.

“I remember when Max and I dropped you at NYU, and it was like watching your whole life just expand right in front of our eyes. I was so excited for you. You have always been meant for more than the Riverview.”

Josie remembered that day, too. The way the three of them had looked at each other with such awareness and excitement. All of them on the edge of a moment.

“I always appreciated how you didn’t cry,” Josie said.

“Cried like a baby when we got in the car.”

“I figured.” The secret about the show was on the tip of her tongue. And she realized Mom would be happy for her whether her idea was made real or not. She’d be proud of Josie for trying. For pushing for more. So, what was the harm in telling Mom? It would only make Mom happy. An early Christmas present. “Mom?”

Max came out of the long hallway leading to the bedrooms and stopped. “Well, that’s a sight,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“No crying, Max,” Mom said. She rolled her eyes at Josie and got up to kiss Max like they hadn’t seen each other in days.

Josie looked back out the window. Tomorrow. I’ll tell her tomorrow, she thought, listening to them whisper to each other the way they always did.

How’d you sleep?

Good. You?

Weird dream about foxes all over the property. They kept trying to get in the house.

That is weird. Freudian.

You think everything is Freudian.

Coffee?

Please.

All she’d ever wanted was what Max and Delia had. Gabe and Alice, Daphne and Jonah. Even Grandma and Grandpa.