The day before Christmas, everything seemed perfect until it wasn’t. I found a receipt for a stunning necklace, signed by my husband, hidden in my sister’s coat. Was it a gift or something far worse?The day before Christmas was a rare and special occasion. My mother, who never seemed to have a spare moment away from her demanding job, had miraculously freed up her schedule to host the family dinner. She bustled around the house, beaming yet still sneaking glances at her phone.
“Well,” she cheerfully said as she set down a platter of cookies, “I finally sent my assistant Mark on that trip I’ve been planning for him. The poor man has been swamped with work all year.”Mark?” my sister Sofia asked, stirring something on the stove.
“Of course,” my mom replied. “He’s handling some business for me first, but then he’s free to explore. I told him, ‘You’re a single man—use this trip to meet someone.’”
She laughed as if matchmaking her assistant was the most natural thing in the world.
Max, my husband, glanced up from where he was stringing lights around the windows. “Do you ever give anyone a real vacation, Anne?”