Page 2 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

Tracie laughed. “I’d like to see that.”

“But I feel guilty saying all this. My mom’s always been my number one supporter. You know, the kind of mother who has warm homemade cookies waiting after school, clean laundry folded and put away in your room. She knits and sews and even used to sew me dresses when I was little.”

“Sounds like Donna Reed—remember that old sitcom?”

Olivia shook her head but continued. “I’m an only child, and Mom’s always been there for me. I know I should be grateful.” Olivia cringed. “But she really makes me crazy. I used to imagine she came from another planet. Like a robot or Stepford wife. Have you ever seen that movie?”

Tracie nodded. “Okay, I get that. Sounds like a lot to grow up with. But I’ve never seen you get upset about it before. Did something trigger you today? How did she get under your skin right now?”

“It started with Malcolm. We met for coffee this morning, and he started to talk about Christmas. He’s taking vacation time and was so excited about going home and seeing everyone.” Olivia felt a fresh wave of angst. “I told you how we grew up in the same town, went to the same school, lived in the same neighborhood.”

“Yeah. I love how you guys just chance-met after years. Sweet serendipity when you picked up your associate’s cat from the vet clinic several months ago.”

“Yeah, I’d heard Malcolm had his veterinarian degree but had no idea he practiced here in Salem.”

“I call it a God wink.”

“Yup. And so far, it’s been amazing. But now that we both plan to go home for Christmas . . . well, that’s where it gets dicey.”

“How so?”

“My parents still live near Malcolm’s parents. Right next door, in fact.”

“Sounds pretty convenient. Maybe you can combine your Christmas celebrations.”

“Think again. The ugly truth is that my mother cannot stand the McEntires. Last I heard, she won’t even speak to Cindy.”

“Oh?” Tracie’s brows arched. “So maybe your mom isn’t so perfect after all.”

Olivia solemnly nodded.

“And I’m guessing your relationship with Malcolm could be problematic for both your families during the holidays.”

“Like a Romeo and Juliet horror film.”

Tracie leaned forward. “And your parents don’t know about you and Malcolm?”

“They have no idea.” Olivia bit her lower lip. “And everything has been so amazingly magical with Malcolm . . . I just don’t want to see it ruined. Especially at Christmastime. It might be premature, or just my hopeful imagining, but I think he’s dropping some hints. I have a feeling he might be thinking marriage. Can you imagine how awkward an engagement ring for Christmas could become for our families?”

“If Malcolm did propose, would you accept?”

“I wish I could say yes, but to be honest, I don’t know. I mean, I love Malcolm, but I love my parents too. I don’t want to be estranged from them. I’ve seen friends caught in the center of parental dramas before. Not pretty. Families can really impact a marriage . . . and with kids, well, it’s even more complicated.”

“Yeah. I know. So, is there a reason for this family feud? Something that could somehow be repaired? Maybe you and Malcolm are meant to be the catalyst here.”

“Maybe . . . and I realize a catalyst can get things moving, but it can also blow things to pieces.” Olivia forced an uneasy smile, thinking the latter was probably more likely. This year could be a very messy Christmas.

two

Jane Bradshaw paced back and forth past her living room front window, biting her lower lip and twisting a dust cloth in her hands, trying to appear nonchalant as she peered outside to the chaos next door. She hated it when Rob called her Mrs. Kravitz after the snoopy neighbor on the old Bewitched sitcom. And she knew it was ridiculous, bordering on obsessive, to get this worked up over a silly birthday party. But for some unexplainable reason, this felt like the proverbial writing on the wall. Things were not going to get better.

Her next-door neighbor and “friendly” nemesis, Cindy McEntire, was celebrating turning sixty today. And good for her, but was that milestone really worthy of all this fuss? But then Cindy had about a dozen grown children and probably twice as many grandchildren, and their property currently resembled a junkyard on steroids. Besides the gaudy signs, streamers, and balloons littered recklessly about and getting soaked in the afternoon rain, cars in various conditions were crammed everywhere in the cul-de-sac, which was rather short on parking. And like adding insult to injury, Rob had invited the guests to use the Bradshaw driveway for overflow parking. And it had overflowed right into their planting strip.

“Rob!” she called out for the third time, ready to lash into her husband over his lapse in good sense. “Come here right this minute.”

Rob slowly ambled into the room with a small gift bag in hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a furrowed brow. “Is the house on fire? I don’t hear any alarms.”

“Look at that.” She pointed out the window to their driveway. “That vehicle’s tires are in our planting strip.”