A Christmas to Cherish (A Festive Christmas #4)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

J ules clapped her hands together and blew on them. “Come on, stop stalling. I’m sure Grandma and Grandpa won’t mind that your hair is a little frizzy.”

Emma leaned against the car, heart thumping a million miles a minute. “The day is young. We can go for another walk or something. What do you say?”

Jules let her hands fall to her sides and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you acting like…”

Emma swung her gaze to Jules and paused. “Like what?”

Jules sighed, her breath appearing in a white puff in front of her. “You did tell them we were coming, right?”

“To town, or…?”

Jules groaned. “Mom, I can’t believe you didn’t tell them we were coming to visit. Didn’t you say Grandpa sent you that letter?”

Emma looked away and shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes, but it all happened so quickly, and I didn’t get the chance to call.”

Jules gave her a pointed look. “You couldn’t make time for one phone call?”

Emma pushed herself off the car and shoved her hands into her coat. “All right, fine. I know I should’ve, but it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

Jules muttered something under her breath as she unlatched the front gate, which creaked open. Her parents’ cars were covered in a thin layer of snow, parked side by side in the driveway, and the front lawn looked like it had seen better days with its overgrown weeds and stooping trees, looking like they’d be uprooted at the slightest disturbance. On the front porch, Emma paused with her hand halfway to the door and tried to muster up as much strength and courage as she could.

She was sure she was going to be sick or pass out.

Emma wasn’t ready to see her parents, not even close, and her entire body seizing up and breaking out into a cold sweat was her biggest giveaway.

Her parents were going to take one look at her and know she didn’t want to be there.

Eventually, it was Jules who knocked after giving her mom an exasperated look.

A few moments later, the door swung open, revealing Marie Sullivan, silver and blond bob sleeked to perfection. She held a whisk in one hand, and an apron with Christmas decorations was wrapped around her waist. She made a low noise in the back of her throat, the whisk dropping to the floor as she glanced between the two of them. Then, Jules was pulled into a hug that lasted a long time. When Jules drew back, Emma stepped forward and got pulled into a loose hug. She awkwardly patted her mother on the back, counting to ten before she slipped away.

Showing any kind of physical affection around her mom still felt strange, especially with the weight of the last few years pressed between them.

“What a lovely surprise.” Marie beamed, pausing to usher them through the door. “Don’t stand outside in the cold. Come in, come in. Henry! Henry! Look who’s at the door.”

Emma ducked and stepped inside, her stomach twisting as the familiar smells of gingerbread cookies and Chanel No. 5 perfume hit her.

For the umpteenth time, she wondered what she was doing there, acting like nothing had transpired between them.

Marie draped an arm over Jules’s shoulders and steered them into the living room, where red-and-orange flames crackled in the fireplace, and the TV above the mantel droned on softly, playing an animated Christmas movie Emma didn’t recognize. A few garlands and streamers were thrown all over the house, but other than that, it was a lot more colorless and dull than she remembered.

Emma was surprised the tree wasn’t up already.

In all of the years since she’d known them, her parents never missed an opportunity to spruce up the house, making it look like something out of Santa’s workshop.

Up close, the walls were bare, and there was a distinct chill in the air that Emma couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She didn’t remember the house being this quiet or still.

Growing up, she used to joke that their house always looked like Santa’s elves had taken over, as if Christmas had thrown up everywhere. Emma had no idea why it lacked its usual color and twinkle, but she knew it made her feel weird.

Like she was stepping into a stranger’s house.

A door opened somewhere, and her father came in, his once towering frame having grown smaller. His face bore a gauntness Emma didn’t remember. With a jolt, she stepped forward to hug him, surprised when she could feel his bones through his checkered shirt and pants. Her father didn’t say anything as he gave her a quick pat on the back and drew away, dark eyes tight and apprehensive.

The salt and pepper in his hair was even more evident when he sat at the kitchen table and mustered up a smile. “I would’ve picked you guys up if I had known you were coming.”

“We wanted to surprise you,” Jules said, her voice rising toward the end. “You look good, Grandpa.”

Henry waved her comment away. “Thank you for trying to indulge an old man. How are your studies? Have you written any hard-hitting pieces yet?”

Jules laughed. “There’s still time, Grandpa. I’m not in a hurry.”

Marie squeezed Jules’s shoulders before returning to the tray of cookies and her piping bag. “We’re so happy the two of you are here. How long are you staying?”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Emma, making sweat rise on the back of her neck.

Why did it feel like she was being put under the microscope?

She’d shown up when summoned, hadn’t she?

Why couldn’t that be enough?

Why did they have to go through the motions and pretend like nothing was broken?

“I’m not sure yet,” Emma admitted after a lengthy pause. “I just thought I’d check in when I saw the letter.”

Henry’s expression turned grave as he nodded. “I was hoping you would.”

Silence settled between them.

Her mom cleared her throat, forcing a smile to her lips. “Sweetheart, how’s everything at the firm? Have you made partner yet?”

Emma tasted acid on her tongue and made herself swallow. “No, I don’t think it’s in the cards for me anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. It’ll work out,” Marie replied without looking up. “You remember what I always told you about obstacles and rising above them?”

Emma ran a hand over her face and looked at her mom. “It’s not the same, Mom. This isn’t some script for a movie or TV series. This is a bit more serious.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

Her mother’s career had always been a sore topic in the house, and addressing that head-on wasn’t the Sullivan way.

Both her parents stiffened, but it was too late for Emma to take the comment back, no matter how much she wanted to.

Why had she blurted it out anyway?

She knew it wouldn’t do any good.

For years, Emma and her father had been forced to tiptoe and glide around the topic, knowing they were never going to understand Marie’s fascination and obsession with the glitz and glamour of acting. All through her childhood, Emma had watched her mother on screen—every curve of her lips and every forced laugh—and she’d wondered why her mother had bothered with a family at all.

For as long as she could remember, Emma had carried around the feeling that she had to play second fiddle, as if Marie’s role as a mother could take a back seat to everything else.

For a while, it almost had.

Even her father had borne the brunt of being married to a star from the seventies, the kind who used to get stopped and asked for autographs, but a part of Emma had clung to the hope that without her career, without the burden of caring for Emma, her parents would find their way back to each other again.

They hadn’t even looked at each other once since she’d arrived.

Had her departure been the final nail in the coffin of their marriage?

“Of course, it is,” Marie said in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I just thought it was important that you know you can do this.”

Emma let her hand fall to her side. “I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”

Marie coughed and looked up at them with a half-smile. “Nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Why don’t you all go and sit in the living room? I’ll be done in a moment.”

Emma lingered, another apology on the tip of her tongue, one she knew she was never going to give.

At least Marie was trying.

It was a few years too late, but Emma had to give her credit.

Sighing, Emma trudged into the living room and lowered herself into an armchair opposite Jules, who was sitting in the middle of the couch, half-turned toward her grandpa. Henry’s form seemed even smaller against the large brown armchair, and his gaze kept flicking to the window and the dying light of the setting sun.

Emma found herself wondering how her father’s obsession with astronomy started—whether it had anything to do with not finding any solace or comfort in anything on the ground.

“…so, yeah, anyway, she’s this Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, and she’s going to guest lecture us for a month or so,” Jules continued, her voice climbing in excitement. “And we took part in this fundraiser for the sorority. It was a lot of fun getting to dress up for those kids.”

Henry’s dark eyes flicked over to Jules, and his gaze softened. “That sounds good.”

Jules nodded, head bobbing up and down. “It was. I’ve still got a year and a half left until I graduate, but it already feels too soon. There’s so much I need to do beforehand.”

Marie pushed the living room door open with her hip and came in, carrying a tray of cookies and a pitcher of apple cider. “There’s still plenty of time, dear. I wouldn’t worry too much. You should try to enjoy this phase of your life while you can. It’s not going to last forever.”

Emma stood to take the tray from her mom, but Marie looked right through her—as if she didn’t exist.

It felt like she was in school all over again.

Plastering a smile on her face, Emma took the tray anyway and set it down on the coffee table. She glanced over at her mom, who lowered herself onto the couch next to Jules and smiled at her. While a part of her was relieved and glad Jules was able to take time away from her busy schedule to come down to Rockport, another part of her couldn’t help but be jealous of the way her parents were looking at Jules.

Like she was the daughter they never had, someone to pour all their hopes and dreams into, without the fear of disappointment.

Already, they were far more supportive and indulgent of Jules than they’d ever been of her. The realization left a bad taste in the back of Emma’s mouth, one she tried to shake off for the rest of the evening as Marie poured them all apple cider, and they turned to face the TV as one. In spite of Jules’s best attempts at thawing the ice between them, Emma knew it hadn’t worked.

It was going to take a lot more than a surprise visit over the holidays to mend fences.

Nothing short of a miracle was going to make the Sullivans feel like a family again.