31

“What’s this?” I laugh, looking up from where I’m kneeling, having just squeezed the last of the children’s and grandchildren’s gifts under the tree, to see Katie and Roger’s serious expressions. “You look like you’re on your way to a funeral.”

“Not a funeral,” Katie says gently. “An intervention, Mom.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Katie,” I sigh, rising to my feet. “It’s Christmas Eve and I’ve been out last-minute shopping all day. Can’t you give it a rest?”

“Mom,” Roger sighs, patting the couch for me to sit beside him, “we’ve spent the day with Dad.”

“He’s so upset,” Katie says, sitting on the other side of me and taking my hand.

“Is he now?” I snort.

“He’s going to lose the business, Mom. Your lawyers are taking him for every penny. He’s really worried he’s going to have to sell everything he’s ever worked for just to pay the legal fees, let alone give you half of all his assets.”

‘His assets?’

“Perhaps he could start by selling the sports car,” I mutter, trying to pull my hands from hers to rise, without success.

“Mom,” Roger says gently, “he’s sorry. Whatever misunderstanding has occurred between you two, he’s realised it was his fault. Won’t you meet with him and see if you can work it out? He wants to meet.”

“Are you out of your minds?” I jump to my feet to stand and stare down at them, hands on hips. “What part of having an affair for a year and lying about it sounds like a ‘misunderstanding’ to you two? You weren’t here. You don’t know what it was like for me. I was so heartbroken. I was prepared to let him have everything, everything , provided I got the house. He’s the one who insisted on pushing the envelope. And you’re damn right it was his fault — he was the one who threw our marriage away.”

“But you’re the one throwing it away now, Mom,” Roger says quietly. “He’s offering an olive branch and you won’t even try.”

“Clearly something went wrong,” Katie whispers. “We get that. But please, Mom.”

“Something went wrong when your father’s penis flopped out of his pants and into a woman younger than you, Katie.”

She opens her mouth to argue, her face white as a sheet.

“No,” I growl, stalking towards the kitchen. “That’s enough.”

Roger follows me.

“Mom. I won’t say anything else, but I know if you say you’ll take him back, he’ll return. After all, it’s Christmas. Miracles happen all the time, but never more so than this time of year.”

“Gingerbread or pistachio cookies?” I say brightly, pasting a smile on my face despite the lump in my throat.