Erin absolutely would not.
When they left the pantry, Cassie was nowhere to be seen. Erin had to finish mixing the punch. She ignored Adam, who wandered back to the party.
Alone in the kitchen, Erin hung her head and leaned on the counter, palms flat. She and Adam got along well enough most of the time, but he drove her crazy when they disagreed. He’d always made her feel small when she tried to talk about problems. He was so certain in his own worldview, he made her feel like a fool for seeing things differently.
Whatever. Erin rolled her shoulders back and stood straight. She’d finish the punch and find Cassie and apologize, because Lord knew Adam wouldn’t.
But she couldn’t find Cassie when she returned to the party. Guests were shoulder to shoulder in the living room, Parker enthralling a group of them by talking about a cappella. It was more than halfway through the party, but there was still an inordinate amount of food on the dining room table. Erin stole a prosciutto-wrapped fig as she slipped past. The firepit in the backyard had only drawn a few guests. Erin didn’t have to venture outside to tell that one of them was Adam in his puffy black North Face. Cassie was nowhere to be seen.
Erin wondered if she’d overheard, worried she was upset. Not because of any feelings—she would’ve defended anyone against Adam being a misogynist dick like he’d been to Cassie. She just wanted to make sure the other woman was all right.
But her brother arrived then with their dad in tow, and Erin had to play the dual roles of wonderful hostess and perfect daughter.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, offering her cheek for a kiss.
“Sweetheart!”
His coat was cold from outside on her bare arms as they hugged.
As always, her father’s first stop was at the food table. Erin teased her brother about his new haircut while their dad loaded up a plate for himself.
“Why do I even visit when you’re always so mean to me?” her brother joked.
“Someone has to bring Dad to see his favorite child.”
“No chicken wings?” their dad asked.
“Ooh,” her brother said. “Are you sure you’re the favorite child when you didn’t even make chicken wings?”
Erin ignored him. “I know, I’m sorry. I should have made time to make them.”
“Please, sweetheart. No apology needed. I tried to get your mother to stop making them for years.”
Erin was distracted by her brother making vague gestures behind her dad, which she was pretty sure were supposed to be about him being the favorite child but it was hard to tell. It took her a moment to process what her dad had said.
“Really?”
“She hated them! So much work for such a tiny amount of meat on each one of those things.” He reached for a prosciutto-wrapped fig. “These on the other hand? Totally worth the work.”
Erin couldn’t move on with the conversation. “She hated the chicken wings?”
“The chicken wings, the cleaning, the never knowing how many people would actually show up. There were so many years I would’ve canceled the thing if she wouldn’t have killed me for it.”
“You can’t cancel the Christmas Eve party.”
Erin’s dad laughed and shook his head. “You truly are your mother’s daughter. What would people think if you canceled the Christmas party?!”
Before Erin could ask what that meant, Parker slid her arms around her grandfather’s waist from behind, squeezing him hard. “Pop!”
His granddaughter took all his attention, and Erin’s brother’s, too, and Erin was left to herself to try to understand this new information about her mom.
For Erin, it wasn’t about what people would think. She loved the Christmas Eve party. Sure, she agreed with her mom on the chicken wings and the cleaning, but not knowing who would show up was half the fun. Every year someone she didn’t expect would arrive, and she’d get to catch up with an old friend—or introduce a new friend to her favorite traditions: figs wrapped in prosciutto, holiday punch, and Melissa’s lemon-polenta cake.
Had her mom only cared about the party because—what? People might think something was wrong if she didn’t host it? Like she was worried about judgmental people. Erin had always thought of her mom as one of the judgmental people. She’d had certain standards she held everyone to; they’d always felt higher for Erin.
If Erin were truly her mother’s daughter, Cassie would’ve never known she was stressed about the party. There would be chicken wings, and the floors would be mopped.
Every year after the party, Erin needed a nap.
It was almost eight by the time she woke up. There was a note on the kitchen counter from Parker—she and Cassie were apparently doing some last-minute Christmas shopping.
Erin heard the front door as she was picking through the leftovers.
“Come eat!” she called.
The air fryer beeped to let her know the wontons were ready. They were the only dish to get an actual plate instead of being served directly from Tupperware.
Only Parker appeared in the kitchen. Erin raised her eyebrows at her daughter.
“She’s putting your present upstairs to wrap later.”
“Oh my God, Parker, she didn’t have to get me a present!”
Parker shrugged and grabbed a wonton off the plate, tossing it back and forth in her hands to cool it down. “She wanted to.”
Erin opened the fridge to find the sweet chili sauce. The woosh of cold highlighted her warm cheeks. Hopefully Cassie didn’t feel beholden to her. She certainly didn’t have to buy Erin a gift.
“Speaking of presents.” Erin didn’t bother getting a dish for the sweet chili sauce; they could pour it. “You both should open your Christmas Eve presents after we eat.”
“Can I pick which one to open?” Parker asked.
“Sure,” Erin said. “You can pick any present wrapped in purple tissue paper.”
“Mom.”
“What?”
“I’m just saying we should get to pick which one we open,” Parker said. “Instead of having it always be pajamas.”
“Who says it’s going to be pajamas?”
Parker groaned. “It’s been pajamas for the past eighteen years. I’ve caught on.”
Cassie appeared then, coming to sit beside Parker at the kitchen island. She reached straight for the mashed potatoes.
“I always get to open one present on Christmas Eve,” Parker explained. “And it’s always pajamas.”
“Oh no, that sounds terrible,” Cassie said, scooping potatoes onto her plate. “A new pair of comfy PJs every year. How awful.”
“Thank you,” Erin said. “See, Parker, some people know how to be grateful.”
Parker rolled her eyes. Cassie rolled her eyes right back. She didn’t look at Erin.