The Book Club Hotel(18)

Her relationship with her children was inevitably going to change as they grew. She’d read a parenting book recently, about how to be a good parent to teenagers. Apparently, her job was to give them what they needed, not what she needed. And right now it seemed Daniel needed her not to go to the concert.

It didn’t matter if it felt as if someone had stabbed her in the chest; she had to accept it.

She sat up a little straighter.

Maybe she couldn’t go to the concert, but there were other things they could enjoy as a family and this was the right time of year for it.

“So who is excited about Christmas? I know we normally go to the forest to get our tree second weekend of December, but how would you feel about doing it sooner than that?” She ignored Pete’s look of surprise. “Does ten o’clock Saturday work for you? I can bake our favorite cinnamon cookies to eat while we’re decorating the tree. We could play games. I’ll make a special family dinner in the evening. It will be fun.”

Meg smothered a yawn. “I’m at a sleepover with Dana on Friday. It’s her birthday. I did tell you.”

“I know. Pizza and a movie. I have it on the calendar.” The photo calendar had been her Christmas gift to herself the year before. Each month was heralded by another family photo from her archives. Meg, aged ten, playing on her sled in the snow. Daniel with his guitar. A family holiday at the beach where they’d all squeezed into the shot and smiled for the camera. Treasured memories layered one upon another, like bricks in a house. That was how a family was built, wasn’t it? “But you’ll be back Saturday morning so I could make a stack of pancakes for breakfast and then we could go and choose the tree. We always do the tree together. It’s a family tradition.”

“Dana’s mom is taking us ice-skating on Saturday morning.” Meg saw her mother’s expression and sighed. “I guess I could miss it.”

“I have band practice at school in the morning,” Daniel said. “But we could do a different weekend.”

“No, we couldn’t. I have something on every weekend until Christmas,” Meg said. “My life is madness.”

Every weekend?

Anna felt a pressure in her chest. “Even our usual weekend?”

“Yes. And I did tell you.” Meg was defensive, a sure sign that she’d forgotten to mention it. “It’s Maya’s party on that Friday and I can’t not go because I’ve already said yes to Dana’s party so I have to say yes to Maya, too. I can’t appear to have favorites.”

Had her teenage friendships been as complicated as her daughter’s?

“But when were you thinking we’d get the tree?”

Meg squirmed. “I was thinking that maybe you and Dad could get the tree this year. I mean it’s not as if the choosing part is that big a deal. It’s having the tree that matters.”

Not that big a deal?

Remembering how Meg used to make a chart to count down the days until they bought the tree, Anna felt inexplicably like crying. The child’s excitement had been infectious. When are we going to the forest? Can we go right now? She’d been telling herself that there was plenty of time before they left home, but there wasn’t, was there? The conversation tonight had made her feel as if they were already halfway through the door.

She wished it were possible to grip tightly to time to stop it disappearing.

Were the lovely family Christmases she cherished so much now a thing of the past? Was that part of their lives gone forever?

“You don’t want to choose the tree?”

“I mean, obviously I’d love to if life wasn’t so busy,” Meg said in a bright voice. “But let’s be honest. You usually decide anyway. Dad says too tall, get a smaller one, and you say no, I want a big one. If Daniel and I pick one it’s always lopsided, or not bushy enough—you know what you want and you get it. Same outcome, every year. Cut out the middleman, I say. We don’t need to be part of it.”

But wasn’t that the whole point? Being part of it? Arguing over the tree was part of tradition, but it seemed she was the only one who saw it that way.

She imagined picking up the tree herself when she went to the farmers’ market. No input from anyone else. No smiles and anticipation because the whole thing, from the scent of pine to the prick of the needles, was about creating a festive atmosphere. Just another item on her shopping list. Carrots, potatoes, bag of apples—tree. Nothing special about it.

“It’s something we’ve always done together. I don’t want you to miss out.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Meg waved a hand. “We’ll love whatever you get.”

Anna searched for a flicker of regret in her daughter’s face and failed to find even a glimmer.

It seemed Anna was holding on to something that everyone else had already let go.

And right then and there she made the decision she’d been struggling to make.

“Right. Dad and I will buy the tree. We’ll need to do it this weekend because I’m going away in the middle of December, with Claudia and Erica.” Even saying it felt wrong and she waited, half hoping for appalled looks and a chorus of What? Don’t go, Mom!

That was the week they did all their Christmas shopping, wrapped gifts, decorated the house.

No one said anything, so she tried again. “I’ll be away for the whole week. The full seven days. But don’t panic.”