Her dad, trying to add some brightness into dreary lives, had hired a worker to string multicolored Christmas lights instead of the traditional New Mexican farolitos—paper bags filled with sand and lit by tea candles. No one used real farolitos on their roofs anymore—can you say “fire hazard”?—but they did use pretty good plastic replicas. Even so, in the black nights of the poorly lit street, Ro thought her house stood out like a garish beacon.
By Christmas Eve, the night had turned savage with temperatures in the teens. The aftermath of the noontime rains had turned to sheets of ice as the skies cleared and the mercury dipped below freezing. Had there been any moisture left in the sky, it would have been a white Christmas. Instead, it was all chill and no atmosphere.
At least the house smelled like the holidays. Her mom was a fantastic cook and she’d been going at it for two days. Yesterday was all the desserts—cookies and cakes and pies and the aroma of winter spices. Today was the meats and side dishes: turkey and ham and potatoes and candied yams and string beans and salad.
At six thirty, the Majors sat down for dinner. Mom had chosen a red satin dress and black pumps. She had diamonds on her earlobes and pearls around her neck. Dad had on the requisite black suit and Griff looked like a thinner, shorter version of Dad. He had slicked back his unruly hair and looked preternaturally stiff. Ro had donned black—a symbol of mourning for her former life back east. The food was phenomenal; the conversation not so much. It didn’t exactly flow but it wasn’t as stilted as it had been in Christmases past. By eight, they were finished with the main meal. Ro wasn’t ready for dessert, but tradition was tradition, as feeble as it was, and she knew she had no choice but to consume copious quantities of sugar and fat.
The knock on the door was unexpected. Griffen was up and out of his chair before she could look up.
Jane Majors looked at her daughter. “Who on earth?”
“It’s probably Vicks.”
“You invited him here on Christmas Eve?”
“No, I didn’t invite him. I just said if it’s anyone it’s probably him . . . and the girls.”
“They don’t believe in Christmas dinner?”
“Mom, I don’t know. I’ll go see who it is.”
Her dad said, “Tell him he’s welcome to stay for dessert.”
Ro turned to her mother. “Is that okay?”
“Of course.” Her tone was more reserved than welcoming.
Ro hadn’t seen Vicks in over a week. She had agreed to go with his family to his sister’s grave tomorrow, and now she was having second thoughts. She wasn’t creeped out at going to a cemetery—she had visited her sister’s grave often enough—it’s just that she felt like a ghoulish intruder. But he insisted it was okay.
Griff was deep in conversation with Vicks and the girls. They were dressed appropriately for the weather in jackets, boots, and scarves. Ro was not. “Hey.”
Ben’s eyes did a quick up-and-down. “You look nice.”
“Thanks, Vicks.” She rubbed her arms. Secretly she was glad that someone saw her looking so hot. “It’s freezing out here. My mother has invited all of you for dessert.”
“They’re going to a carnival,” Griffen said. “They invited us to come.”
“Carnival?”
“The Canyon Road walk,” Ben said. “It’s a Santa Fe tradition on Christmas Eve.”
“Where all the art galleries are?”
“Yep. The street is closed off to cars and overrun with people.”
“Like, everyone in Santa Fe is there,” Haley said.
Lilly said, “It’s totally wholesome. There is lots of off-key caroling and dogs dressed up as reindeer. It sounds corny but it’s actually a lot of fun.”
Ben said, “I haven’t gone since . . . in a while. Come. It’ll be fun.”
“Thanks, but my mom will be upset if we leave.”
Griffen made a point of giving a disgusted sigh. “It’s like a tomb in there.”
Ro opened the front door. “Come in and say hello.”
The five of them went inside the house.
“Merry Christmas,” Ben said. “We’re just stopping by. Sorry to interrupt.”
“No interruption.” Mom’s eyes swept over their casual dress. “We were just finishing up. Would you like to stay for dessert?”
“Uh, thank you.” Ben said. “That’s very nice of you.”
Griffen said, “They’re on their way to a carnival, Mom. They’re just being polite.”
“Carnival?” Dad said. “On Christmas Eve?”
“No, it’s not a carnival,” Ben said. “It’s a tradition in Santa Fe to do a walk up Canyon Road. Lots of the galleries are open and they serve coffee and hot cider and hot chocolate. There are bonfires and lots of caroling.”
“Bad caroling,” Lilly said. “And bad brass bands.”
“I’m stuffed, Mom,” Griffen said. “Maybe, like, we can go and come back for dessert?”
Dad looked at Ben. “How long does it take?”
“About an hour. But if you have other plans—”
“We don’t,” Griffen said. “I should change, right?”
Vicks’s eyes darted between Ro and her parents. He was barely on their good side so he was hesitant. “I don’t want to interrupt any traditions you have.”
“Traditions we have? Seriously, dude?”
“Griffen, be polite,” Dad warned him.
“C’mon,” Griffen cajoled. “It’s okay, right?”
“Everyone can come,” Ben said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Dad said. “It must be ten degrees outside.”
“It’s pretty cold,” Ben said.
“Let them go, Jane.” Dad loosened his tie. “I’m stuffed.” He looked at Ben. “Be back in an hour plus fifteen for dessert. I’ll probably enjoy it better myself.” He stood up. “I’m going to go change into something warm and comfortable. Merry Christmas.”
Mom paused, then began gathering up dirty plates. “Well, I suppose the decision has been made.”
“I’ll stay home with you,” Ro offered. “I don’t want you cleaning up this mess by yourself.”
“Why don’t we go and we’ll clean up everything when we come back?” Vicks suggested. “Least I can do for interrupting your dinner.”
“That’s an idea.” Ro smiled. “Go relax, Mom. We’ll take care of everything later.”
Dad had returned in sweats. “Make sure you do. Go. To tell you the truth, I would like to be alone with Mom. It’s a rare thing.”
Mom cracked a smile. “Thank you. That was a very nice thing to say.”
Dad put his arm around Mom and kissed her cheek. “Heartfelt.” To the kids: “Clean up everything when you come back. Mom worked hard enough.”
Twenty minutes later, with everyone dressed and sweating in the car’s heat, Vicks pulled into the line of vehicles on Paseo de Peralta, waiting to get into one of the parking lots across from the mouth of Canyon Road. His mom’s SUV inched across the asphalt until they were finally allowed in. Cars were everywhere. People were everywhere. Old snow had turned to blocks of ice. The parking lot was one big skating rink with frozen water crunching under tires and refreezing as soon as it hit the frigid air. Ben found a parking space. As soon as they got out of the car, Ro took a couple of steps and her feet slid out. Vicks caught her by the arm. Then his gloved hand took hers and the crew walked to the beginning of Canyon Road.
Griff and the girls disappeared almost immediately in the swell of humanity. Vicks got two cups of cider, gave one to Ro, and surveyed the scene. He pointed to an open gallery. “Want to go inside?”
“What’s inside?” Ro asked him.
“Dunno, but it’s probably warm.”