Ma walks over, standing in front of my dad with her chin raised high and a finger that’s pointed directly at Mr. Worthington’s face. “Now, that is enough. You are just as guilty in this silly feud as we are. I think we can all admit that we have done things that we shouldn’t have, things that we are not proud of… but you cannot live in glass houses, Mr. Worthington. Placing blame on us means accepting the very same blame for yourself. If anyone should be ashamed, it’s you for creating this entire spectacle that is neither the time nor the place!”
“How about you keep your little… ugly sweaters and your disgusting gingerbread cake, and we can leave. As simple as that. We want no part in this farce of a party,” Mrs. Worthington says. “It’s clearly all about your family getting what you wanted, and we were never welcome in the first place.”
I see Emma’s frustration, her sadness, her disappointment start to boil over. Her fists clenched at her side, she storms forward and steps between our families.
“Enough!” she says so loudly that it echoes off the wooden walls of the barn. “God, look at all of you. Fighting in the middle of a damn Christmas party over who has done what. You’re pointing fingers, saying things that are hurtful and absolutely not true. This has gone on long enough, and it ends. Right here. Right now.”
“Emma, with all due respect, I don’t think you have any right to speak to my family right now,” Jameson says with a sneer.
Nope. Fuck no.
I walk directly over to Emma, facing my family and my brother who’s clearly lost his goddamn mind speaking to her that way, and I grab her hand, lacing her fingers in mine, showing a united front.
“Brother, with all due respect, the next time you disrespect her that way, we’re going to have our own problem that we’ll have to resolve outside.”
Josie’s jaw drops in shock, but she recovers quickly, plastering on a grin, then giving me a sneaky thumbs-up.
“Look, Emma is right. This stupid godforsaken ‘feud’ has gone on for years, and it’s honestly fucking exhausting. Give it up. Do you even remember what started this? Why are we even fighting? Why has this gone on for as long as it has? Genuinely, can you even tell me that?” I look back and forth between my family and hers.
Her father works his jaw, then rolls his eyes. “Of course I do. Your family decided after moving to town that you were too good for our annual party. The Worthingtons have been hosting the town for Christmas practically since the town was founded—it’s a respected institution. Yet when the Pearces came to town, you never bothered to respond to the invitation. Oh, but even better! You decided the following year that you’d throw your own party. On the same day. And didn’t bother to invite our family. You tried to steal our family’s legacy!”
“What?” Ma says, her brow furrowing. “You invited our family to your party?”
“Of course we did! We invited everyone in town and have since the very first party,” Mrs. Worthington adds. “It’s something our family takes pride in, and we were excited to have someone new in Strawberry Hollow. Someone new we could bring into the town tradition that we Worthingtons hold so dear. You snubbed our party, not even dignifying us with a response. We don’t expect every single person invited to come… but then you never even bothered to say hello or speak to us around town. And then you willfully scheduled your party the next year on top of ours, a century-old Strawberry Hollow tradition? It felt… well, it felt like a slap directly in the face.”
Emma and I whip our heads back to Ma, who’s wearing an expression of total bewilderment. She runs her hand over her mouth and shakes her head. “Amelia, we never got an invitation to the Worthington party when we first moved here, have never gotten an invitation to one of your parties ever. We thought that you were excluding us that year because we were outsiders and not a true part of Strawberry Hollow. That’s why we never bothered to say anything when we saw you in town because we thought it was done purposefully, that we were being purposefully excluded since everyone else was invited. You really did invite us?”
Holy fuck. Are they saying…
“Yes, of course we did. Why would we purposely exclude you? We only snubbed you because we thought you were snubbing us,” Mr. Worthington says as Mrs. Worthington nods, adding, “We felt as if we were simply reciprocating your behavior.”
My dad shakes his head. “Assumptions were made, on both parts. It seems like we all acted in a way that does not accurately represent our character. Who we are as people. Who we are as a family. We’ve forgotten how Christmas should be celebrated. I’ll admit we did have our own party, but it was only because we figured we wouldn’t be invited to any parties going forward. All we wanted to do was make new friends and truly make Strawberry Hollow our home. We didn’t know. And being so caught up in all of it, we also turned a blind eye to the boys’ antics, and it has just all gotten out of hand. I’m sorry for that.”
“This was all a very monumental… miscommunication,” Emma whispers, disbelief lacing her tone.
Josie groans. “Ugh, I hate the miscommunication trope.” She mutters the words under her breath but loud enough for me to hear. That girl and her books.
“Oh dear… it does seem to be that way.” Ma nods, her shoulders scrunching up in embarrassment.
For the first time in history, our families seem to be agreeing on something. That something being the fact that for the last three decades, we’ve been fighting over… nothing.
“You’re telling me that our families have been feuding for all of this time over a fucking misplaced invitation?” I say.
Guilt marks my parents’ features, and when I look at the Worthingtons, they’re sporting a similar expression.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Lucy. To you, to your whole family, for all of it. This was so silly and juvenile, and I can’t believe I partook in something like this blindly for years. That I never tried to resolve things sooner,” Emma says with sincerity.
“Emma, it wasn’t just you. It was all of us, sweetheart,” Ma tells her. She pulls Emma into a warm hug before she walks over to Mrs. Worthington. “I’m so very sorry that this happened, Amelia. That’s not enough, simply saying that I’m sorry, but I think it’s the only place to start.”
Mrs. Worthington nods, her face softening. “I’m sorry as well, Lucy. Deeply. For everything over the years, and for you believing for so long that we didn’t want you at our party. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. But, we did try on… occasion to interfere with your parties over the years, trying to shut them down so everyone would come to ours, and that was so wrong of us to do. Spiteful, and I’m just so sorry for everything.” She sniffles, overcome with emotion. “Goodness, we have really mucked this party up, haven’t we? It’s Christmas. Do you think… we could maybe put this behind us? I know there are a lot of bridges to rebuild, but I think I can speak for my family.” She glances at her husband, who nods. “We’d really like to try to start over. For the sake of all of us.”