Although Greg didn’t comment, Alexis could tell he was surprised.
“I just thought I would spend the holidays here,” she continued.
Greg chuckled. “What are we, the Ghosts of Christmas Past?”
Tilly tapped her husband’s leg under the table and he grunted in response. Alexis took it in stride. She hadn’t expected a welcome mat.
Greg tried again. “Nice of them to unlock your chains for that long. Lucky you. Must’ve made them a lot of money this year.”
Alexis changed the subject. She didn’t want to talk about her job. “I’d like to see these nephews of mine.” She took a small portion of carrots without any pot roast and passed the serving dish back to her mother. The small act didn’t escape Tilly’s notice.
“I should think so,” Greg said. “They won’t even know you.”
“Greg.” Tilly used her warning tone that Alexis knew so well. “Alexis said she’d like to see them.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m here,” Alexis said carefully.
Her parents fought the urge to ask about the other reasons. They rightly sensed that Alexis wasn’t ready to tell.
“Do you not like pot roast anymore?” Tilly asked, unable to hold her tongue.
“I never liked pot roast.”
“Who doesn’t like pot roast?” Greg thundered. “Too working class for you?”
“I don’t eat red meat anymore,” Alexis said.
“No cheeseburgers?” Tilly asked, her brown eyes wide.
“No. Can’t say I miss them either.”
Tilly scratched her head. “Well, that will make planning Christmas meals challenging.”
“You eat cheeseburgers for Christmas now?”
“Well, no,” Tilly admitted. “We do a nice roast beef. It’s a wonderful recipe from one of my magazines.”
“I’m happy with a good salad,” Alexis said, “so no need to make a fuss.”
“Nobody’s making a fuss,” Greg interjected, quick to his wife’s defense.
“More carrots?” Tilly asked her husband.
Greg held up his plate so his wife could drop another heap of carrots onto it. Alexis chewed slowly, trying to figure out how she could survive this visit and retain her sanity.
After dinner, Tilly and Alexis cleaned up while Greg retired to the family room to watch a football game. It didn’t matter which game or team. If it was football, it was on. Nothing new there.
Alexis washed dishes while Tilly dried.
“You probably have a dishwasher now,” Tilly said.
“I don’t use it often.”
“Do you use it to store pots and pans?” she asked. “I’ve seen that on TV. People in cities with limited storage.”
“I don’t use it for storage.” Alexis wasn’t a fan of clutter.
“I’ll give Betsy a call and you can go see them tomorrow. I work until three, but it’s her day off. Did you know she owns her own hair salon now?”
“No, I didn’t. That’s great.”
“She’s worked real hard.”
Unlike me, right? Alexis thought bitterly. Her parents had always treated her accomplishments as less impressive than Betsy’s.
“Are you still working for Morris?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, yes. I’ve had to do a lot of computer training these last few years. Everything is computerized nowadays. Morris still insists on dictation, though. And he never answers his own phone.”
“Some people don’t like change.”
“He thinks it’s a real hoot that my daughter joined his ranks.”
“I’ll bet.” Alexis snickered, remembering Morris and his orange and green striped ties and suspenders. Morris was a solo lawyer, one of the few on the island, who took any case that walked through his creaky door. Even as a child, Alexis detested his threadbare carpet and dusty shelves. As far as she was concerned, he did nothing to inspire a future generation of lawyers. Rather, he served as a red, flashing warning sign.
“Dad looks a bit beat up,” she said in a low voice. “How’s his health?”
Tilly shook her head dismissively. “Nothing wrong with that one. Outdoor living takes its toll on your beauty is all.”
“Is he talking about retirement at all? I mean, at some point it’s just unsafe for a man his age to do a job like that.”
Tilly chortled. “Your father has been a maintenance technician from the time he left school. He won’t know how to do anything else.”
“You could retire together. Do some traveling. There must be somewhere you’d like to go besides your own backyard.”
“I think you’ll find that Dorothy Gale learns a valuable lesson when she strays from hers.”
“Wizard of Oz aside,” Alexis huffed, “there’s something to be said for getting away from it all.”
“That’s why people come here,” Tilly reminded her.
“But don’t you get sick of it?”
Tilly stopped drying dishes and gave Alexis a pointed look. “We don’t all have a strong urge to run away from our lives, Alexis.”
Alexis longed to say something in her defense, but decided to fight her natural instinct and keep her mouth shut. Instead, she resumed washing dishes with vigor. After all, she was here to reconnect, not to bicker.
“I’m still on London time,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“No one will object if you turn in early,” her mother said.
Alexis was unsure whether to take the comment as a slight. Despite the air of hostility, she chose not to. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll finish up here. Goodnight, Alexis.”
She poked her head into the family room to say goodnight to her father.
“Already?” he asked, without taking his eyes off the television.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”
“If you say so.” He yelled in response to something happening on the screen.
Alexis never had much interest in American football, even though she had grown up surrounded by rabid fans. In her adult life, she’d been surrounded by rabid fans of English football. She’d traded one irrational group of people for another and she didn’t feel a part of either one. Sports never held much interest for her unless she was the one playing and she hadn’t been part of a team since high school.
Alexis moved her suitcase to the floor and changed into her Natori satin pajama set. She barely had the energy to wash her face and brush her teeth before sliding beneath the sheets. She wondered what the partners at her firm would think if they could see her now, draped in denim bedding and Winnie the Pooh sheets.
Despite her fatigue, she stared into the darkness, unable to close her eyes. She tried to conjure up the memory of what it felt like to sleep in this room, night after night. The only thing she could remember was not wanting to sleep in this room one night longer than she had to. Mangrove Island hadn’t fit into her grand plans. And now she was back, voluntarily. She pinched her arm to make sure the moment was real and winced as she felt the squeeze of skin. Alexis had done a lot of pinching these past eighteen months. Most people pinched themselves in happy disbelief. Not Alexis.
When she finally gave herself over to sleep, it was a restless night full of position changes and clock glances. She awoke still exhausted. Although she blamed the time zone change, deep down, she knew that this trip would be much more difficult than she had anticipated. How could she expect to turn up unannounced after all this time and not get questioned by her family? Of course they’d be curious about her life. She thought she’d mentally prepared herself, but she recognized now that her efforts had been minimal to non-existent.
Alexis remained in bed until she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Her father going to work. Must be six o’clock. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, cursing the jet lag, and urged herself forward. She padded down the hall to the shower. She wanted to be refreshed, cleaned, abs
olved. Sadly, she wanted more than a simple shower was able to give.
Chapter Two
By the time Alexis came downstairs, fully dressed and hair blown out, the house was empty. A small stack of pancakes waited for her on the counter, covered with a paper towel. She put the plate in the microwave and scoured around for a coffee mug. Since she was generally a healthy eater, she’d tried to be one of those people who started the day with hot water and lemon or a green tea, but she couldn’t manage it. She liked her coffee the way she liked her whiskey, the stronger the better. London was a great place to indulge that need for a caffeine perk. It wasn’t quite Paris, but the people there certainly liked their coffee.
She was relieved to see coffee still left in the pot. It wasn’t as though her parents knew she was a coffee drinker. They didn’t know anything about her adult habits. It seemed odd, yet there were so many other things they didn’t know. Coffee seemed the least of it.
Alexis plucked a note from the kitchen table. Betsy’s address. Within walking distance, she noted wryly. Betsy wasn’t foolish enough to stray from her fan base.
She chewed her pancakes slowly, savoring each bite. It had been years since she’d enjoyed American pancakes. English pancakes tended to be thinner and less sweet. Alexis eventually gave them up completely after deciding that the bland taste wasn’t worth the calories.
She sipped her coffee and wandered into the family room. She saw herself as a child on the same brown sofa, sipping hot cocoa and watching Christmas specials. She’d loved Rankin and Bass and Charlie Brown. For her, they’d brought a sense of magic. She wondered if they still played shows like that during the holidays. She hoped so.
After lingering by the front window, Alexis knew it was time to drop in on her big sister. As much as she wanted to, Alexis couldn’t put it off any longer.
On the plus side, it was a relief not to wrap up warm and brave the damp, cold wind. Although she despised English weather, walking was still her way of life in London just as it had been on the island. Even when taking the Tube, she ended up walking blocks at either end of the journey.
She recognized the name of Betsy’s street, although she couldn’t recall which of her friends had lived there. No one she was in touch with. Then again, Alexis hadn’t been in touch with anyone. She didn’t belong to Facebook or Instagram or any of the other sites that involved reaching out to people you didn’t actually see anymore. Alexis detested the whole concept.
Ahead of her, a little girl in a light blue jacket busily drew with colored chalk on the empty street.
“Hi,” the girl called with a wave.
Alexis turned away from her, unwilling to give her attention. It took ten minutes to walk to Betsy’s. She gave the house a cursory glance, all red bricks and cheap white trim. It was the future that Alexis had been desperate to avoid.
She rang the doorbell and immediately heard voices spring to life on the other side of the door. The door flew open and there stood Betsy or, at least, a version of Betsy. This girl was a woman, as well as a good forty pounds more than the sister Alexis had left behind. Her brown hair was the same shade as Alexis’s, but the cut was short and spiky.
“Well, well. An early frost,” said Betsy, folding her arms across her ample chest.
“Wow, let’s do the time warp again,” said Alexis, giving her sister the once-over. “How many washes can one outfit endure in a lifetime?” Betsy’s fashion sense hadn’t changed much at all; she still sported all black attire with loud, chunky jewelry.
“Do you seriously think I could fit in my clothes from when I was twenty?” Betsy asked incredulously. “You’ve heard about my three kids, right?”
“Only three? I expected a village.”
Betsy’s brown eyes narrowed. “How many hard-working small businesses have you put to death since I last saw you?”
“How many innocent beads had to die to make that necklace?” Alexis sniped.
“Better beads than children in sweatshops,” Betsy remarked, eyeing Alexis’s designer duds. She unfolded her arms, indicating a ceasefire. “So are you coming in or do I need to invite you?”
When she turned to lead Alexis into the house, Alexis spied a rose tattoo on the nape of her neck. She suspected there were a few more of those in less obvious places. As Alexis stepped inside, her attention immediately shifted to the home’s interior. She nearly laughed out loud at the country style décor, complete with wooden chickens on the wall and red gingham curtains. No doubt Betsy had left the previous owner’s style intact.
“Don’t even mention the chickens,” Betsy snapped, reading her sister’s mind. “I haven’t gotten around to redecorating.”
“I don’t think black walls would really work in here anyway,” Alexis said, remembering Betsy’s teenaged experiment with design.
A small boy appeared at the bottom of the stairs, clad in Star Wars pajamas. His hair was so light that it appeared almost white, and had the effect of making his brown eyes look even darker.
“Owen, this is your Aunt Alexis. You be polite, okay? No weird questions.”
“Hi,” said Alexis.
“My aunt’s name is Kelly,” Owen said.
“Well, this is your other aunt. Kelly is Daddy’s sister and this is mine.”
“Why haven’t I met her before?” he asked.
Betsy gave him a pointed look to indicate that the question was off-limits. Owen nodded silently with his large, solemn eyes. His gaze flickered to the mysterious aunt and back to his mother.
“Why didn’t you hug her?” Owen asked.
Betsy looked taken aback. “I did.”
“No, you didn’t. You sounded angry with each other and then she came in. No hugs.”
“Your mom was surprised to see me is all,” Alexis jumped in. For Owen’s sake, she gave Betsy a friendly pat on the back.
“That’s just our way of communicating, honey,” Betsy explained. “Like when you and Brian fight.”
“I don’t fight with Brian. He fights with me.”
“This is Owen, my youngest,” Betsy said.
“I’m four,” he told Alexis proudly.
“The other two are at school,” added Betsy.
“When do they finish for Christmas break?” asked Alexis.
“Too soon, if you ask me. I need to get on the ball before then. I’m so behind schedule.”
“Joey’s not on the island,” Owen informed his aunt. “He goes to a special school on the mainland.”
Alexis gave her sister a quizzical look.
“Joey is autistic,” she explained. “The school is for autistic kids. He lives here, but he’ll attend school there full-time until he’s twenty-one.”
“Is Joey the oldest?” asked Alexis.
Owen nodded. “Why don’t you know that? Don’t you have e-mail? The island has internet, you know, even if it’s too slow for some of my games.” An idea occurred to him and his face lit up. “Do you live on a deserted island?”
“Unfortunately not,” Alexis said.
His tiny mouth drooped in disappointment.
“Owen, why don’t you bring Aunt Alexis into the family room and I’ll get us something to drink?”
“I want milk with a lid and a straw.”
“Please,” Betsy reminded him.
“Pleeeease,” Owen said with enthusiasm.
Alexis followed him into the family room. A Christmas tree stood in the corner trimmed with colorful wooden decorations. Alexis touched one of a gingerbread man.
“We used to have shiny ones,” Owen said, “but Joey kept taking them down and breaking them. Not on purpose. He just likes shiny things.”
“And what’s Brian like?”
Owen scrunched up his face, thinking. “He’s seven. He likes to win. Do you think Santa Claus dies like people do?”
The change in topic was so abrupt that Alexis thought she misheard him. “Sorry?”
“Santa Claus is a human, right? So do you think he dies? Because all huma
ns die or don’t you know that either?”
Betsy hustled in with a tray of drinks. She handed Owen his cup.
“Owen,” she said sharply. “What did I tell you? You can’t talk to just anybody about stuff like that. Not everyone is child-friendly.” She turned to Alexis. “Don’t mind him.”
Although Alexis bristled at the child-friendly comment, she simply replied, “I don’t mind.”
Betsy changed the subject without regard for subtlety. “So are you still at a fancy pants law firm?”
“I tend to wear fancy skirts.”
“Guess that doesn’t leave time for much else,” Betsy surmised. “Not that you ever wanted much else.”
Alexis cocked an eyebrow. “I think it’s fair to say I wanted more out of life than endless paperwork and clients who act like spoiled toddlers.”
“Do you have kids?” Betsy’s expression brightened momentarily, as though Alexis’s willingness to reproduce would change everything between them.
“No, sorry, I don’t have kids.”
Betsy moved her gaze straight to Alexis’s left hand and Alexis could tell exactly what her sister was thinking. No ring. Guess she’s not marriage material either.
“What have you brought me to drink?” Alexis asked, hoping to shift topics.
“I hope you still like tea,” said Betsy and handed her a cup.
“I do.” She didn’t mention her preference for coffee.
“Hard to avoid it, I guess, living in England.”
“Where’s England?” Owen asked.
Alexis glanced down at him. “A bigger island across the Atlantic Ocean.”
Owen’s eyes widened in amazement. “Wow, the ocean.”
“So how’s Joe?” she asked Betsy. Joe and Betsy went to high school together so he wasn’t completely unknown to Alexis.
“Busy. We’re always busy. Joe finally joined the union a while back and that’s been good for us.”
“My dad’s an electrician,” Owen said proudly.
“She knows, sweetheart.”
Owen crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you said she didn’t know us at all.”
Betsy and Alexis shared an awkward silence.
“How old did you say you are, Owen?” Alexis asked.
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