A Christmas to Cherish (A Festive Christmas #4)

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

“ D id you add the flour?”

Emma nodded and peered into the bowl. “It looks a lot thicker than cake flour. Are you sure it’ll work?”

“This recipe needs something sturdier,” Marie replied from her spot in front of the fridge. “Now, add two and a half teaspoons of baking powder, followed by the salt, and vanilla extract.”

On the marble counter, the radio kept hissing in and out of signal, filling the kitchen with soft Christmas music. Her mother hummed along and tapped her feet, and Emma smiled to herself. She continued to whisk the ingredients together until her mother came and added a hefty dose of butter to the bowl. Marie’s eyebrows drew together as she used the shredder to sprinkle in some orange zest, followed by half a cup of spiced rum and brown sugar.

Emma cracked in five eggs in silence before measuring the sour cream and milk.

“This is going to be delicious,” Emma commented softly. “Thank you for showing me how to make this.”

Marie nodded and crushed a handful of pecans. “It’s one of your dad’s favorite recipes.”

Emma twisted to face her and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

Marie made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat.

After pouring the batter into the cake pan, Marie scattered the pecans on top and pushed the oven closed with her hip. “It’s going to take a while. I should go and check on your father.”

“Wait.” Emma untied the apron and draped it over the back of a chair. “I wanted to apologize for the other day when we were in the square…”

Marie sighed. “Emotions were running a little high on both ends, Emma. I know neither of us meant anything bad.”

Emma swallowed past the lump in her throat and stepped in her mom’s direction. “I want us to be able to talk about things without fighting. I really do.”

Lately, the kernel of hope inside Emma had been blossoming, growing until it filled her chest.

She wanted to believe the ice between them was finally melting, that they were finding their way back to each other.

Spending the past few days tiptoeing around each other hadn’t been easy, but Emma understood her parents would never be like her. She had to accept it if they hoped to build a relationship.

After helping her mom tidy up and add a few more decorations around the house that morning, Emma wanted to believe it was a step in the right direction.

But she had to take it further if there was any hope of a real reconciliation.

Marie’s lips lifted into a gentle smile. “I’d like that too.”

“I’ve been working so hard lately that it feels like I’m missing out on a lot with Jules,” Emma continued, pausing to take another step forward. “Did you ever feel like you had to choose when you were younger?”

Marie untied her own apron and motioned to her, the two of them stepping into the living room.

Marie had a wistful expression on her face when she spoke, and her tone was soft and full of regret. “All the time. Being an actress was never easy, especially with a family that I hated being apart from. Your dad was fully on board in the beginning, but over time, it got hard, especially as you got older, and I had to miss out on things.”

Emma lowered herself onto the couch and linked her fingers together. “I know you did your best.”

Blaming her mom for her past shortcomings wouldn’t do either of them any good, not if she wanted them to move on.

This was as close to an apology as she would get.

Marie sat on the opposite side of the couch, pausing to tuck her skirt around her legs. “I do regret prioritizing my career as often as I did, especially because I missed out on so much, but I didn’t know any better. I was young and ambitious…”

“And blinded by the fame?”

Marie ran a hand over her face and offered Emma a rueful smile. “Yes, I can admit that I was. I hated the rift and distance that kept growing between us, but at the time, it felt inevitable, like the price I had to pay to be the actress I was.”

Emma had never heard her mother talk about her career in less than glowing terms.

After all this time, it was almost sad to see how much it had taken from her—and how little it had left in its wake.

All Marie had to show for it was a few dusty awards shoved to the back of a shelf in the living room.

Emma wondered why her mom was choosing to come clean now and whether it would’ve made a difference if she’d come to the realization sooner.

Would things have turned out differently for the Sullivans then?

Would they have been happier?

Marie sighed and linked her fingers together. “There was this actor who was coming up around the same time I was. The studio kept pushing us together. We had what they called chemistry, the IT factor, and I almost believed the act he put on.”

Emma’s stomach tightened. “Act?”

“He made me believe he was in love with me—that he would whisk me away to a glamorous life in Hollywood and that we would be happy together.”

“You…you actually considered it?”

Emma didn’t know how she felt about knowing her mother had come close to leaving them.

Too close, by the sounds of it.

She had chosen them in the end, but what would’ve happened if she hadn’t?

Would they have been better off without her, or she without them?

She didn’t like the thought either way and sent up a quick prayer, thankful for whatever had kept Marie with them.

Marie lowered her eyes and wrung her fingers together. “For a brief moment, I did. I thought it would be easier for everyone if I left—your dad would definitely give you a much better life—but I remember coming home one day and seeing you and your dad curled up in bed, reading a story together, and it just hit me. I couldn’t leave you guys. I could never leave you.”

Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish you had told me all of this sooner.”

All those years living in her mom’s shadows, all that time wasted hoping Marie would finally see her for who she was, it all could’ve been avoided.

But her mother had kept it all bottled up the same old Sullivan way, and Emma couldn’t understand why.

Why hadn’t success been enough for her?

Why hadn’t the shine of a thousand spotlights made her happy?

And why had her family always been forced to compete?

Anger and resentment burned and rose within Emma, but she snapped her mouth shut and forced herself to count backward from ten. “Things could’ve been different for us.”

Marie nodded, and her eyes seemed heavier and sadder than Emma had ever seen them, like everything had finally caught up to her. “I know. I wish I’d been brave enough.”

Emma inched closer to her mother, her heart in her throat now. “I was talking to an old friend the other day… She mentioned what happened when you stepped back from the limelight.”

Marie’s shoulders stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Emma moved closer and placed her hands on her mother’s, pausing to offer her a light squeeze. “I know you were sick. I know you had a health scare that forced you to step back and take some time away. I know Dad had to help you get back on your feet, and it must’ve put a strain on your marriage.”

Silence stretched between them.

A clock struck somewhere in the distance.

Abruptly, Marie rose to her feet and smoothed out the front of her blouse. “I should check on the cake and then your dad. He should have something to eat.”

Emma rose to her feet. “Mom, we should talk about this.”

Marie stepped into the kitchen and peered through the glass of the oven, a frown hovering on the edge of her lips. “There’s nothing to talk about. It happened a long time ago. I’m better now. I have a job that is much more fulfilling and useful. I love being able to help families.”

Emma crossed to the kitchen and leaned over the counter. “I think your job is great, and I’m so grateful that you found a new purpose after losing your acting career, but…”

Marie wheeled around to face her, and something about the look on her face made Emma pause.

It was the look of a woman who had her mind made up. Everything from the tight set of her eyes to the tilt of her head to the way she clenched her hands indicated one thing: It didn’t matter what Emma said, Marie wasn’t going to tell her anything.

Not today.

Suddenly, she couldn’t find the words she needed—the ones on the tip of her tongue.

How could she when her mom was looking at her like she was about to crack?

As if one word from Emma would bring her to her knees?

She wanted to feel closer to her mother, but not at the expense of her well-being. As much as it pained her to admit it, Emma knew her mother wasn’t ready to talk about it, or else she would’ve brought it up. She’d been keeping it close to her chest all those years for a reason.

The incomparable Marie Sullivan hated appearing weak in any form.

She’d spent years crafting a public persona that oozed charm and charisma; even Emma had barely gotten around that.

But there it was, at long last, a small dent that allowed some light in, and it was beautiful.

And tragic.

Emma had never seen her look more beautiful or vulnerable, especially with her shoulders squared and her chin raised high in the air.

“I know you mean well,” Marie whispered, the tears spilling freely now. “But your father and I…we don’t talk about what happened. We did what we needed to do in order to get through it, and I’m fine now. That’s all that matters.”

Emma’s chest tightened and cracked. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Marie released a deep, shaky breath. “Yes.”

Emma pushed herself off the counter and let her hands fall to her sides. “Okay, I’ll stop pushing, but I want you to know that no matter what happened between us in the past, you’re still my mother, and I still love you.”

Marie’s voice was hoarse when she spoke. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

A moment later, Henry’s voice wafted over to them, breaking the spell they were under. With a quick, distracted smile, Marie hurried out of the kitchen toward Henry’s study. She stopped in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder, looking younger than she had in years.

Emma felt as if she was getting a glimpse into the person her mom used to be: before the fame, before the toll it took, and before the illness ended everything she’d worked hard for.

It almost broke her.

Marie cleared her throat and gave Emma a hopeful expression, her eyes glistening in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time. “I overheard you on the phone the other day, talking about the eclipse and the supposed Sullivan family treasure. I have a few ideas…if you’d like me to help.”

Emma smiled. “I’d love your help, Mom. If you’re not too busy.”

Marie straightened her back and cleared her throat. “It’s time we solved that mystery once and for all. It’ll be good for all of us to know, one way or another.”

Emma maintained her smile and ignored the warm and bubbly feeling unfurling in her chest. “You’re absolutely right.”

Marie nodded, and her expression turned serious again. “Let me check on your father, and you can show me what you have so far.”

With that, she pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

Emma was in the living room, setting out a few letters and maps, when Marie joined her. She placed a large plate of cake and two cups of apple cider beside the lamp and leaned forward. Over the next few hours, the two of them poured over the evidence together, and Emma could’ve sworn she felt a pull between them—drawing them closer and closer—so all of the hurt and pain melted into the background, fading away.

Emma wanted to hold on to that feeling forever.