A Billionaire for Christmas
“It was Johnny,” I say.
“What?”
“Taking care of you kids. It was Johnny.”
“Yeah. It was always Johnny.”
“What’s he doing for Christmas?”
“Nothing, I guess. I asked him last night at the party and he said, ‘I don’t do church.’”
“He doesn’t have to do church,” I say, giggling.
“I told him that. He didn’t seem to get it.”
“So they’re doing nothing? No tree? No presents? And Megan is… pregnant?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t we invite them to come down here with us? What is Joey doing? Surely they’re getting a tree? For Maisy, at least.”
“Maisy is spending Christmas at the Kane estate. Joey didn’t think it was fair to take her away from her little sister for the holiday. So he’s taking her for New Year’s and having Christmas then.”
“Call them.”
“What?”
“Right now. Call them and tell them to come down here.”
Jesse points to the street filled with people. “There’s not even an empty cottage, Emma. Where would they stay?”
“Who cares? My parents have two spare bedrooms. Some of them can stay in our old bedrooms. Or we can make Alonzo and Tony stay with the parents and Joey and Johnny can take their cottages.”
“I’m sure Alonzo would love that idea.”
“I could make him. He’d do it for me.”
“Nah. I mean… I would like to have them here. But it would be a huge inconvenience.”
“Oh, we’re calling them,” I say, reaching into his pants pocket for his phone. “Right now. At least extend an invitation. And if they say no, then fine. But maybe they feel left out? That would be terrible. Oh, my God. When I tell my mother about this oversight, she’s going to go ballistic. She will insist. She will fly up there herself and drag them all back here. Please. Call them.”
“Emma. It’s too late.”
“It’s not. I promise.”
“At least ask your family first. If they say it’s OK, then I’ll call and extend the invitation. But don’t get your hopes up. My brothers aren’t into family shit like this.”
“Done. Let’s go ask her right now. They’re getting ready to light the tree anyway.” I stand up, and take his hand, tugging on it to make him get to his feet.
He does. But he pulls me towards him, staring into my eyes for a moment. Then he leans down and kisses me, whispering, “You’re the best present ever, Emma Dumas. All of you.”
And he tastes like a cool slice of cherry-vanilla shaved ice.Chapter SevenI tug Emma down the street towards the giant palm tree in her parents’ front yard, trying to see if she will forget about calling up my brothers and inviting them down here. But she doesn’t.
“Here.” She’s shoving the phone at me. “Call them, right now. I’ll go let my mom know.”
“No. You ask everyone if it will be OK first. Then I’ll call.”
She stops, forcing me to stop with her, because I’ve still got a hold of her hand. “Hold on. Do you not want them here?”
“I do. If they want to come.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to come?”
“It’s just…”
So here’s what it is. Christmas—and all the holidays, actually, even our birthdays—it’s a sore spot for us. Because we tried to get my father interested in celebrating stuff like this when we were younger, and it was always a no. Finally, we just gave up. And I could see it in Johnny’s eyes last night when I brought it up. He didn’t want to think about it. It’s for church, he said. But he knows damn well Christmas is for anyone who wants to participate. Not just people who believe the religious aspects. It’s a tradition, and traditions are whatever you want them to be.
But see… we did make Christmas our own. We decided, as a family, a very long time ago, we didn’t celebrate this holiday. I don’t even know what the original reason was, but it doesn’t matter. Trying to invite all my brothers down here for Thanksgiving involved a very circular and frankly tiresome conversation that I don’t want to repeat.
If they don’t want us all to be together on the holidays, that’s their decision.
“I’m gonna go ask right now. And you’ll see. Everyone will be thrilled.” Emma lets go of my hand and starts powerwalking over to her mother and father, who are standing in front of the giant palm tree, ready to light it up.
The Thanksgiving convo went like this:
Hey, brothers! Now that we’re all reconnected through this bizarre secret-society bullshit, would you like to spend Thanksgiving with my new replacement family in Key West?
Which, OK, probably not the best way to start a conversation about reconnecting our familial ties, but what can I say? I’m a charmer.
They were not impressed, nor were they swayed into participating.
I came to terms with the idea a long time ago that while I do have two brothers, I don’t really have a family. I’m OK with that. Emma has enough family energy to make up for what I missed out on. And also, honestly, I don’t need all my old family baggage following me into this new life.