December Rain (17 page)

“You ready?” Quinn asks as his seatbelt clicks.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“They’ll love you. Amber is so excited. She’s been texting all morning.” He shows his phone full of texts with silly photos from his niece imitating her grumpy looking cat.

“She’s funny huh?” Monica says. She takes the phone for a closer look. “I’m excited to meet her. Just nervous about the parentals.”

“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. I’m the one who’s gonna get shit. I haven’t been home in a while. I’m sure I’m due for some jabs and digs.”

“Oh, that’ll be comfortable.”

He threads his fingers into hers and plants a small kiss on her temple. Comfort with him comes so easy. She reclines onto his chest after take-off, and they sleep for most of the flight. Once they are wide awake, she finds out he’s a shark at Go-Fish.

JFK airport is filled with a festive Christmas charm and faint Sinatra carols floating through the air. There are definitely more smiles than usual, as if there were never a more perfect city to celebrate Christmas. Megan and Amber spot them first in baggage claim, waving their arms and yelling their names. It turns into a sisterly welcome with big teary hugs and holding hands. Monica feels like she’s known them forever by the time they’re in the parking lot.

They pile into a large black SUV and drive north for nearly an hour to the New York suburb of Irvington. They talk about Quinn’s crazy travel schedule and some of the holiday plans. Monica starts feeling happy that Jay and Megan insisted they stay with them rather than a hotel. She knows it’ll be more fun.

As Manhattan and its northern burrows disappear, tree lined streets and large white colonial homes decorate the roads. When they pull into the long driveway of one of those homes Monica tries not to show her awe. There’s a thin layer of melting snow scattered over the lawn and eaves of the large property.

Wow. That’s a huge house.
“What was it Jay does again? I forgot,” she says to Quinn.

“He’s a forensic psychologist.”

“Jay? Your brother Jay? The silly one with the tiki drinks and the smoking jacket?”

Quinn laughs. “Yeah, that’s him.” Megan nods with laughter putting the SUV in park.

“My dad is so embarrassing,” Amber adds.

“This is beautiful Megan!” Monica says.

“Thanks. We’ve been here a little over ten years now, if you can believe that. It’s always been too much house for me honestly, but Jay was in love the minute we saw it. Of course he doesn’t clean it... but that’s a whole other issue.” She giggles and links arms with her. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Amber stays glued to Quinn unloading the suitcases and bags through the garage as the ladies tour around outside first.

“It’s not as pretty in the winter, but we make up for leaves with Christmas lights this time of year.”

Her sarcasm isn’t lost on the daylight. There are thousands of lights twisting around the branches of nearly every tree or shrub around the property. The colonial home is clad in white with navy blue shutters and holds a Santa Clause and sleigh prancing above the dormers on the roof.

The interior of their home is equally grand and yet cozy in its decor. The high ceilings, grand piano, and dark wood floors reflect the glow of fireplaces and a large Christmas tree. Monica’s favorite space is the kitchen though. The endless white cabinets, cathedral ceiling, and marble counters have the formal feeling she admired in older east coast homes. It even has a sitting area with its own fireplace to the far end near the breakfast nook. Megan has Martha Stewart caliber touches of winter greenery and decor scattered about, each room smelling of cinnamon or pine.

I can imagine this place under a thick blanket of snow. There’d be no reason to want to leave.
Monica sees a small flat screen TV hidden in the cabinets along with an espresso machine.
Psychologist make good money, but this is ridiculous. Maybe Megan has money? She must. I think he said she runs two charities. Good for them. This is lovely.

“See what I mean by too much house?” Megan says. She rolls her eyes as if living there is definitely not her idea. “Amber, let’s show them their room and let ‘em get settled.”

“Are we still gonna bake cookies?” Amber begins to beg. Her frail thirteen year old body is arching forward with hands clasped like a praying angel. She flutters her eyes for full effect and mugs a huge smile. “Please please.”

“Amber let them relax a little, they’ve just been on a long flight.”

“I think baking sounds perfect. We napped. We’ll be alright.” Monica looks at Quinn to agree.

“I’m never gonna pass up cookies.”

“Will you decorate them with us too?” Amber asks him.

“A cookie canvas is my favorite.” He reaches over and start tickling her before picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. “Alright. You’re supposed to show us our room. Point the way.”

Amongst adolescent squeals and giggles she tells Quinn which way through a maze of long hallways with door after door. Monica sees a sliver of a library that might have had two stories of dark bookshelves as well as a couple of large offices. It’s easy to tell which one is Jay’s. His enormous mahogany desk is being watched by a life size skeleton in a Sherlock Holmes hat and pipe.
I like Jay even more now. I never expected his humor to mix so perfectly with formal style. It’s like an eclectic wonderland
.

The room they’re given upstairs is the size of most master bedrooms with its own on-suite bathroom and walk-in closet. Amber runs off when Megan insists she let them settle in and they share a sweet smile as the room gets quiet. Monica kneels on a cushioned window seat taking in the view of the backyard. “This is an amazing house.”

Quinn comes around behind and nestles into her neck. “I’m with Megan though, it’s too big. It’s just the three of them. Jay’s more like mom and dad in that way, he likes room to spread out and hide.”

“I pictured something completely different, but it still feels comfy. Like them.” She turns to him, happy she’s there.

“I never thought I could be this happy,” he says. His lips deliver a feathery kiss before he pulls her towards the bed. He lays her down slowly and gives her that
I wanna make love
look, but she pushes him off.

“Oh no. Not now. Not here, like this. No way.” Her voice shifts to a softer whisper with each word. He finds it amusing as well as an invite for a challenge.

“You can’t run from me the whole time,” he says.

“I can run from you this time.” She darts for the door before the sound of Dean Martin echoes through a built-in speaker in the wall. “Let It Snow” fills her with warmth for the second time today. He tries to coax her back, but she ducks and lets him chase her down the hallway towards the giant kitchen. Amber and Megan don matching aprons of red polka dots and pony tails looking more like sisters than mother and daughter.

The girls bake cookies while Quinn sits at the bar teasing and catching up on school and events in their lives. It’s all so comfortable and easy, funny and festive. Monica sees Quinn’s love for them and falls a little deeper with every smile or giggle. When they get to the decorating, Quinn takes over making the colored icings and pairs up with Amber to design their cookies. After a Chipmonks sing along and an army of snowmen line their plates, Quinn glances over at Monica’s finished cookies. She has twice as many in front of her than anyone else and they’re done to perfection.

“Whoa. What’s going on over here?” He draws the girls over to look at her cookies.

“I know. I saw her first Santa and just ate mine so no one could compare them,” Megan says with a laugh.

“Oh stop. You’re being ridiculous. They’re just like all the others.”

They were clearly not like the others. Her snowmen have perfect carrot noses and little plaid scarves. They look factory produced. There’s even a jingle bell collar around every reindeer’s neck. They sit back staring at her denial with raised eyebrows.

“Okay. So they don’t, but I have a lot of experience with this. It’s the only thing my mom and I did together... ever. She was a great baker and taught me how to decorate everything very young.”

“Can you decorate cakes too?” Amber asks.

“Yep. I was in decorating classes by age nine.”

“Oh my god!” Amber jumps to her feet. “Do you watch The Next Great Baker? I
love
that show!”

Monica smiles and says, “It’s the only reality TV I’ll watch. I’m hooked.”

“She’s so awesome,” Amber says to Quinn.

“Mom’s gonna love her,” Megan adds.

He winks at Monica and then looks at her cookies again with wonder. His eyes beam with pride and love as he goes back to his Christmas tree cookie.

“What’s going on in here?” Jay says.

Everyone jumps to greet him with hugs and kisses. He assesses the cookies with a toy factory judgment. “This one isn’t gonna make the cut.” He picks up one of Quinn’s snowflakes that has icing sliding off onto the counter and slams it into his mouth.

After he drops his things he dances to the wet bar in the den to mix some cocktails. It doesn’t take long to before Megan is in his arms, swinging around to “All I Want For Christmas Is You.” Even though Amber pretends to be thoroughly embarrassed by them, Monica notices there’s nowhere else she’s running off to.

When the song ends, Megan pulls out enough finger foods and snacks for a small party. It should’ve been a clue before the doorbell rang, but Monica knows by Quinn’s face who’s about to join the festivities.

Frank is a very handsome older man with dark salty hair and those Matthews family signature blue eyes. He drapes his suit jacket across one of the barstools, sets down a bottle of wine, and reaches for Amber as the safest first hug. Quinn’s mom Ellie is a petite woman with a Diane Keaton kind of style. She carries herself with a beautiful dignity that makes Monica immediately want to know her secrets to aging so well.

Ellie’s eyes are on her baby boy as she clings to Quinn with tears gingerly trailing down. It doesn’t take long for Monica to find out it’s been over two years since he’s been home for the holidays.
How is that possible? He lived in the New York until this past spring.

Monica is welcomed as if she’s the first female Quinn’s ever brought home. The tone, at least from his mom, is surprise mixed with happiness.
He really isn’t close with his dad. They barely acknowledge each other. But Frank does keep looking over. He looks sad. Maybe he has regrets.

“Okay, I put some Jack Johnson Christmas tunes on for our west coast girl here,” Jay says. He walks over to the seating near the fireplace with a tray of cocktails for the adults and a peppermint concoction for Amber.

“She’s not originally from the west buddy,” Quinn says.

“Oh, where are you originally from dear?” Ellie asks.

“Kansas City, but we moved to Las Vegas when I was twelve.”

Ellie’s eyes soften to almost tears. “Kansas City is where I went to college. High school and college actually. We moved there when I was about sixteen.” It looks like a bittersweet memory and sparks a flurry of unrelated chatter amongst the adults. Monica gets the feeling she hit a sore subject, and doesn’t ask questions under the overlapping conversations.

The whole room gets quiet though when Frank says to Quinn, “You know there’s only rain in the forecast this week?”

“Yeah, it’s crazy! There’s always snow on Christmas.”

Frank shakes his head. “Not for the last two years.”

“You’d know that if you were here,” Jay chimes in.

Quinn throws him a dagger look and then turns to ask, “What’d you guys do?”

They all exchange smirks. “Drove,” Jay says.

“Dad that sucked. I don’t want to do that again,” Amber says.

“Yeah, that did suck!” Megan adds.

“Well what do you suggest we do? Ride bikes?” Frank laughs.

Amber’s face lights up. “Yeah!”

“That could be fun,” Megan says.

“Until someone eats it on some ice. It was a joke,” Frank says.

Ellie sets down a cup of coffee in front of Frank. “We can just walk. Rain or shine.”

“I’m an old man,” Frank says, “that’s too far to walk.”

“You’re in perfect health. You just bragged about it last week,” Jay says.

“It’s the same distance we’d be skiing dear,” Ellie says.

“Yeah and skiing
is
harder than walking,” Amber pushes.

“I’m a little lost,” Monica says to Quinn.

“I’m sorry sweetie, on Christmas afternoon we usually ski down to the village common and meet some friends we all grew up with-”

“And their families-” Jay interrupts.

“And we all have hot cider or cocoa to toast the day.”

“Wow! That’s awesome! Like in a movie or something,” Monica says.

“Everything really
is
a movie to you isn’t it?” Quinn laughs and kisses her temple.

“Yeah, it started when we were, what mom?” Jay asks Ellie.

“7-” “11-” “young-”

Monica laughs as they all start rambling about the exact year they started. The volume they can reach when they’re all wound up is a little shocking, but still amusing.