“That sounds pretty fancy too.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Apparently the matter was settled.
She hugged her teddy bear tighter.
“Do you have kids?”
“No.”
“A wife?”
“No.”
“A dog?”
“No.”
“Cat?”
“No.”
Emma looked increasingly concerned.
“Who lives with you?”
“Nobody.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
That one landed harder.
Harrison swallowed.
“I guess I got busy.”
“With what?”
“Work.”
“You work all the time?”
“Pretty close.”
Emma frowned.
“That sounds boring.”
He actually laughed.
Maybe the first real laugh he’d had in days.
Then she asked the question Jennifer had walked over in time to hear.
“Who are you having Christmas with?”
Harrison could have lied.
He had spent years giving people polished answers.
He could have said colleagues.
Friends.
A dinner later.
A party.
Instead, he looked into the serious blue eyes of a four-year-old stranger and told the truth.
“Nobody.”
Emma reacted as if he had said he planned to eat dinner without a chair.
Something obviously wrong.
Something that required immediate correction.
“Come to our house.”
“What?”
“We’re having turkey.”
“I don’t think—”
“And mashed potatoes.”
Harrison smiled.
“That sounds nice, but—”
“My grandma makes pie. Mommy makes green beans, but I don’t really like those.”
“Emma!”
And now Jennifer was standing there.
Which brought Harrison back to the uncomfortable present.
Jennifer shifted the grocery bags in her hands.
She was probably thirty-three or thirty-four.
Her brown hair had been pulled into a loose ponytail that looked like it had been done early that morning and forgotten about.
Her coat was clean but worn around the cuffs.
Her boots had seen better days.
There were tired shadows beneath her eyes.
But she stood straight.
Alert.
Protective.
Harrison recognized that kind of posture.
It belonged to people accustomed to carrying more than they admitted.
“I apologize,” he said again. “I should have redirected the conversation.”
Jennifer looked at him for another second.
“Emma talks to everybody.”
“I gathered that.”
“She invited a grocery clerk to her birthday party last month.”
“Did he come?”
“No.”
“That seems like his loss.”
Jennifer almost smiled.
Almost.
Emma tugged on her sleeve.
“Mommy.”
“No.”
“I didn’t ask yet.”
“I know what you’re going to ask.”
“But he’s alone.”
Jennifer sighed.
“Sweetheart, we can’t invite every stranger we meet into our apartment.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s not how things work.”
Emma looked genuinely puzzled.
“But why?”
Jennifer glanced at Harrison.
He lifted both hands.
“I’m staying out of this.”
That finally got a small laugh from her.
Then Harrison reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card.
“I’m Harrison Cole. I run a software company downtown. You certainly don’t have to invite me anywhere. In fact, you probably shouldn’t.”
Jennifer took the card.
She read it.
Looked at him again.
Then at the expensive suit.
Suddenly, the pieces fit.
“You’re that Harrison Cole?”
He wished immediately that she hadn’t recognized the name.
“I suppose.”
“I read an article about your company a few months ago.”
“Hopefully a flattering one.”
“It said you worked sixteen-hour days.”
“That part was unfortunately accurate.”
Emma tugged Jennifer’s sleeve again.
“So he really does work all the time.”
“Yes, apparently.”
“See?”
“See what?”
“That’s why he needs Christmas.”
Harrison looked down.
Jennifer stopped smiling.
For a moment, the three of them stood there.
Then she exhaled slowly.
“Our apartment is small.”
Harrison looked up.
“The furniture is old. My mother lives with us. Dinner is simple. And if you’re expecting some picture-perfect Christmas, you are going to be disappointed.”
“I’m not expecting anything.”
Jennifer studied his face.
“If you really have nowhere to go…”
Emma gasped.
Jennifer held up one finger.
“…you can come for dinner.”
Emma bounced in place.
“Yes!”
“Dinner,” Jennifer repeated. “That’s all I’m promising.”
Harrison felt something tight in his chest loosen.
“I’d be grateful.”
Emma shoved her teddy bear at him.
“Hold Mr. Buttons.”
Harrison blinked.
“What?”
“I have to help Mommy.”
Before he could object, the bear was in his hands.
Jennifer stared at him standing there in an expensive suit holding a battered teddy bear with one ear slightly flatter than the other.
This time, she really smiled.
“Welcome to the family, Mr. Cole.”
It was supposed to be a joke.
Neither of them knew how strange those words would sound one year later.
Jennifer lived across town in an older apartment building with narrow hallways and chipped paint around the stairwell.
The elevator hadn’t been working properly that week, so they climbed three floors.
Emma talked the entire way.
She explained that her grandmother was named Rose.
Rose made the best apple pie in America.
This had not been independently verified.
Emma also explained that she was allowed to open one present before bed, but only one, and Grandma Rose always tried to guess which present she would choose even though she was usually wrong.
“Last year I picked the big one,” Emma said.
“What was it?” Harrison asked.
“Socks.”
He stopped on the stairs.
“The big present was socks?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a tough Christmas.”
Jennifer laughed behind him.
“They had cartoon penguins on them.”
“Oh. Well, that changes everything.”
Emma nodded solemnly.
“I still wear them.”
By the time they reached the apartment, Harrison knew more about Emma’s preschool class than he knew about several vice presidents at his own company.
Jennifer unlocked the door.
Harrison stepped inside.
And stopped.
The place was maybe one quarter the size of his penthouse.
Possibly smaller.
The living room opened directly into a tiny dining area.
A narrow kitchen sat beyond that.
The couch had a faded blanket over one arm.
The recliner near the window had been repaired with careful stitching along one side.
A small Christmas tree stood in the corner.
Nothing matched.
And yet everything somehow belonged.
Paper ornaments hung from the tree.
A handprint painted green had been turned into something that was probably supposed to be a Christmas tree.
A crooked paper star sat near the top.
Family photographs covered one shelf.
Emma as a baby.
Emma wearing a giant sun hat.
Jennifer in nursing scrubs holding Emma on her hip.
Rose with flour on her cheek.
A refrigerator was covered in drawings, magnets, reminders, and one piece of paper with a purple handprint and the words MOMMY + ME.
Harrison stared at it.
His own refrigerator held bottled water, sparkling water, and food somebody else stocked for him.
That was it.
A gray-haired woman appeared from the kitchen holding a dish towel.
She saw Harrison.
Stopped.
Looked at Jennifer.
Looked at Harrison again.
“Jennifer?”
“Mom, don’t panic.”
“That’s always comforting.”
“This is Harrison.”
Rose’s eyes moved over his suit.
“I can see that he’s Harrison. I’m asking why Harrison is in our living room.”
Emma ran past him.
“I found him.”
Rose looked at the child.
“Where?”
“At the café.”
“Why were you finding men at cafés?”
Jennifer pressed two fingers against her forehead.
“Mom.”
“I’m just trying to catch up.”
“He was sitting alone,” Emma explained.
“So I invited him for turkey.”
Rose looked at Harrison.
“You accepted a dinner invitation from a four-year-old?”
“When you put it like that, I admit it sounds questionable.”
Rose stared at him for two seconds.
Then laughed.
“All right. At least he knows.”
Jennifer relaxed.
A little.
Rose offered her hand.
“Rose Banks.”
“Harrison Cole.”
“I hope you eat leftovers.”
“I do now.”
“Good answer.”
Dinner was almost ready.
Harrison offered to help.
Jennifer handed him a stack of plates.
He stood there holding them.
She waited.
“What?”
“Where do these go?”
“The table.”
“Right.”
She looked at him.
“When was the last time you set a table?”
Harrison considered lying.
“Maybe college.”
“Oh, this should be interesting.”
It was.
He put the forks on the wrong side.
Emma corrected him.
He forgot napkins.
Rose corrected him.
He nearly carried an empty serving bowl to the table because he didn’t realize Jennifer planned to put food in it.
Jennifer stopped him.
