Chapter 1 - Someone Else’s Christmas
The first thing I saw was a Christmas tree I had not put up.
The second was a stranger drinking my dead husband’s wine.
I stood outside my mountain cabin with snow melting into my boots, staring through the window at twelve people celebrating inside the home Robert and I had owned for twenty-two years.
Six unfamiliar cars filled the driveway. Music shook the windows. Laughter rolled through rooms that had been silent since my husband died.
I unlocked the front door.
Brenda Collins—my daughter-in-law’s mother—looked up from my favorite blue chair.
“Diane?” she asked, annoyed. “What are you doing here?”
For one stunned second, I almost answered her.
Then I remembered whose key was in my hand.
“My question,” I said, stepping inside, “is what are you doing in my house?”
The room went quiet.
Brenda’s husband, Larry, sat on Robert’s leather sofa with his shoes on the coffee table. Two teenagers were eating pizza over my handwoven rug. Brenda’s sister had opened the cabinet where I kept my mother’s china.
Five suitcases stood beside the stairs.
Stockings hung from my mantel.
My stockings.
My house.
Their Christmas.
Brenda lifted her wineglass. “Sarah said we could use the place.”
“My daughter-in-law doesn’t own this place.”
“She gave us the security code.”
Only my son Jason and my property manager had that code.
A cold feeling crawled through me.
“Did Sarah ask me for permission?”
Brenda rolled her eyes. “Family is family, Diane.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“We drove six hours. We’re staying through New Year’s.”
“No, you’re not.”
Larry muted the television. Several relatives exchanged glances.
Brenda smiled as if I were a confused old woman who needed to be handled gently.
“You should call Sarah before you embarrass yourself.”
Then I saw the label on the bottle in her hand.
My knees almost gave out.
Robert had bought that Cabernet for our fortieth anniversary. We never opened it because two days before that anniversary, the doctor told us his cancer had spread.
Robert died three months later.
For four years, I had kept that bottle untouched.
Brenda followed my stare.
“Was this special?”
I could barely breathe.
“Put it down.”
“Larry said wine goes bad.”
“Put it down.”
The steel in my voice silenced everyone.
Brenda set down the bottle, but the cork was already out. Half the wine was gone.
Then she gave me a small, smug smile.
“Don’t be dramatic. Sarah said this cabin will belong to her and Jason someday anyway.”
I stared at her.
Brenda raised my husband’s anniversary wine and took one last sip.
“We’re just getting a head start on the inheritance.”
She said it while I was standing alive in front of her.
May you like
And that was when I decided they were all leaving.
But first, I needed to know who had promised them my home.
