My Kind of Christmas

accident.
    “Don’t baby me,” Angie said. She hung her jacket on the coat hanger by the door and pulled off her cowboy boots. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
    Her sisters just looked at each other. Then her again.
    Donna came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “We doing okay?” she asked Angie.
    “Okay.” Then she went to sit on the floor in front of the fire where her sisters had been. They immediately joined her with very expectant looks on their faces. “If you two make me cry, you’re history,” she warned her sisters.
    She saw her uncle Jack come out of the kitchen holding a stack of plates for the dining room table. He stopped short when he saw her, lifting his heavy eyebrows. She gave him a smile and a wave.
    “Was it horrible?” Jenna asked. “Letting that hunk of burning love go?”
    “Jenna, have you ever actually had a boyfriend?” Angie asked.
    “Are you kidding me?” Beth asked. “She’s had seventy-two or so. And none as fine as that Irish dude you caught.”
    Angie circled her raised knees with her arms and put her head down. “Temporarily caught. He’s on his way back to the East Coast, I’m on my way back to school and that’s that.”
    “But what was he like? Really?” Jenna asked.
    “He is the best man alive,” Angie said with a small smile. “You guys got to know him a little—what did you think?”
    “I think I would have followed him all the way to Charleston,” Jenna said.
    “That’s the thing—I wasn’t invited. He has other plans....”
    Uncle Mike came from the kitchen with three glasses of white wine and some snacks on a tray—torn hunks of bread and a plate of artichoke spinach dip. Jenna took it out of his hands and brought it to the floor in front of the fire. “The help around here is outstanding.”
    Mike gave a snort, but he put his big hand on top of Angie’s head. A comforting hand. And she reached up and gave the hand a pat.
    When he was gone Jenna asked, “Were you in love with him?”
    “Stop it,” Angie said.
    “Can’t you talk about it?”
    “Maybe next week. Talk to me about something else. What are the family plans?”
    “Well, in support of our emotional cripple of a sister, we’re having Christmas here. Are you going to come home with us right after? Or are you still on romantic hiatus?”
    “You’re being kind of bitchy,” Beth told Jenna.
    “Sorry. I was looking for some details. Didn’t I tell you every detail the night I lost my virginity?”
    “And every time after,” Beth put in.
    Jenna made a face at that sister, but to Angie she said, “And you had that gorgeous man all to yourself for a month and haven’t said a word.”
    “Give her a week,” Beth said. “Where did you come from, really? Are you adopted, Jenna? You shouldn’t be so pushy.”
    “I’m not talking,” Angie said. Then in a quiet voice she added, “My heart hurts. And I don’t want to cry in front of everyone. So please, Jenna—stop being such a brat. Just tell me what’s in the news or something.”
    “What’s in the news is that we are stuck in Virgin River where the one single guy has officially fled and the big event to look forward to is the Christmas Eve children’s pageant at the church.” She took a gulp of her wine. “That’s the news. Drink up.”
    Beth and Angie both laughed in spite of themselves. And once they got off the topic of Angie’s romance, they yammered like girls would. They sipped their wine; Beth and Jenna ate the dip and bread. Angie just wasn’t ready to eat. Someone yelled, “Dinner in thirty minutes,” but the girls had formed a tight, protective little circle in front of the fireplace and were somewhat oblivious to the rest of the house.
    Angie noticed it was getting dusky outside and she was surprised she’d made it through the day without him. There was a small table between the great room and dining room set for David, Emma and Ness and it brought to mind all those years of setting up the adult table and the kids’ table for the holidays. She remembered being the first of ten grandchildren to graduate to the adult table, an event that filled her sisters with jealousy and loathing.
    She abstractly noticed Mel rounding up the kids for their dinner, getting them settled at the table. Mike and Brie were carrying dishes and plates of food to the table. And some fool was honking a horn outside.
    Jack went and opened the front door to see who was making the noise. “Holy shit,”