Page 17 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

“Well, Olivia has managed to escape. For the most part.” He told her about Olivia moving a couple hours away for work, and about Malcolm.

“Oh my goodness!” Lulu’s laugh was hearty. “That must’ve tied Jane’s tail in a knot. She can’t stand your neighbors.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He sighed. “So you’ll really come and help me out of this mess?”

“No,” she said crisply. “I want to help you make a great big mess. A perfect mess. That’s just what Jane needs.” And suddenly she was tossing out all kinds of crazy ideas to turn Jane’s world upside down with chaos.

“I don’t know . . .” Suddenly Rob questioned whether any of this was such a great idea. After all, it was his home too. He wasn’t ready for a three-ring circus. But he kept his reservations to himself.

“And the holidays are the perfect time for this,” she continued. “So many goings-on already. With all the trappings and trimmings. Why, it’s a perfect backdrop for an intervention. It will be wonderful.”

“Wonderful . . .” he muttered, feeling he had grabbed a tiger by the tail and might be sorry later.

“I’ll tie up some loose ends here and come on over. I think I can be there next week. That’ll give us some time before Christmas, and plenty of time to shake up Moonbeam’s world.”

“Moonbeam?”

“Oh, I must’ve told you before, Rob. It’s what I named her as a baby.”

As they said goodbye, Rob vaguely remembered the strange name, and how shortly before their wedding Lulu had used that name—and how Jane had thrown such a horrible fit that Lulu apologized and swore she’d never use it again. After things settled down, worried what he was getting into, Rob had demanded to know what the awful scene had been all about. Jane had lightly apologized, claiming her mother was deranged . . . talk about the writing on the wall. Later on, in a tender moment, Jane had confessed that Lulu was telling the truth after all, but that she’d legally changed her name as soon as she was of age—then swore him to secrecy over it. Not wanting any more fits, he’d tucked it all away in some long-lost memory bank. Moonbeam. He smiled to himself. Well, hopefully Moonbeam wouldn’t turn into a lunatic over her family’s plans to help her.

Next, Rob called his daughter. After telling Olivia of Lulu’s plans to join them next week, Olivia said she would do her best to get over there as soon as possible, saying she would bring her work with her if necessary.

“I can’t promise I’ll be there when Grandma comes, but I’ll sure try. Because we both know how Mom feels about being surprised.”

“Believe me, I know. And springing Grandma Lulu on her is a doozy.”

“You’ll need some backup, Dad. I’ll start getting my ducks in a row to come.”

“Thanks, honey. I really appreciate it.”

“And the intervention? Did you schedule that too?”

“I’m working on it.” He told her about talking to Pastor Justin.

“That’s a great idea. And I know it’ll be hard, but you’re doing the right thing, Dad.”

“I hope you’re right. After talking to your gung-ho grandmother, I started to have serious second thoughts. Lulu can be a handful.”

“I know. But I think it’s the right kind of handful. Grandma Lulu will be hard to take, but she’s probably just the right medicine.”

“And Erik told me that he and Cindy will come. And I hope you and Malcolm can be here too. Would you mind asking him about it?”

“I, uh, I guess so. Sure.” She sounded uncertain, and that concerned Rob.

“Is everything okay with you two? I know things got a little rough the day you left. Everything smoothed out?”

“Uh, sure, Dad. We’re fine. And I’ll see if he can come. I know he planned on being home for the week before Christmas.”

“I don’t want to have too many people at the intervention. But we need enough to get her attention and make a valid point. To be honest, the whole thing is starting to remind me of the Mad Hatter’s birthday party.”

“The un-birthday party,” she corrected. “And maybe it’ll all lead to a new sort of birthday. Like a rebirth, or wake-up call. Give Mom a second chance at life. Really, Dad, don’t doubt yourself. You’re doing the right thing.” And they said goodbye.

Rob appreciated the encouragement but suspected his daughter was being overly optimistic—kind of like how a hopeful little girl, faced with a giant pile of horse manure, might pick up a shovel and start to dig, expecting to find a pony buried beneath. But in Olivia’s case, there was probably no pony. Just a great big pile of disappointment. Rob leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, wishing he could conjure up some optimism. But at the moment, all he could envision was Jane checking into a psychiatric hospital. He didn’t think she would, really—but that’s the image he got when thinking about what was ahead.

Rob took in a deep breath and opened his eyes. But really, he reminded himself, would that be any worse than the way they were living now? At this rate, walking on eggshells, trying to do everything perfectly, barely breathing when his wife was looking . . . he was probably the one who would wind up there!

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