“I can round up several of your more athletic cousins to help us do any shifting around we need.”

“As long as we’re finished in time for the live Nativity pageant and the carol sing-along,” I said.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Probably time we all took our seats,” Robyn suggested. As we’d been discussing the sweater the incoming crowds had swelled, and now the lights in the foyer blinked to signal that it was time for us to enter the auditorium.

Riddick, who had been hovering nearby for the last several minutes, cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“Is it okay if— I mean, I’m happy to stay on if I’m needed but…” He let his words trail off and touched one side of his head gently, as if to remind us of his migraines.

“Go home, then,” Robyn said. And then, as if startled by how brusque her words had sounded, she stepped forward and patted his shoulder. “You really don’t need to hang around if you don’t feel up to it. Or if there’s something else you’d rather be doing. Go home and take care of yourself.”

He smiled wanly. Then he turned and began walking slowly toward one of the side exits. I noticed that the farther he got from us, the faster his pace became. Clearly there was nothing wrong with his legs.

“Did I sound too impatient?” Robyn asked Mother and me in an undertone. “I confess, I feel impatient. He’s been complaining all day. What is one supposed to do with people who insist on hanging around and whining when you’ve told them multiple times it’s perfectly fine for them to leave?”

“Just what you did now,” I said. “Tell them it’s okay to go.”

“Subtlety is lost on Riddick,” Mother added.

I discarded Sylvia’s wrapping paper in a nearby trash can and carefully stowed my beautiful new sweater in the tote I always carried whenever I went anywhere with the boys. I’d trained myself to call it a tote rather than a diaper bag because I’d long ago realized that even when the boys no longer needed diapers they’d still need the million and one other things I carried in the bag.

“Don’t forget to thank Sylvia,” Mother said.

“Are you sure I should?” I asked. “What if I thank her and get the mutant purple reindeer next year?”

“So true.” Mother frowned.

“I know,” I said. “I’ll tell her that I like the sweater so much because there are only so many times you can wear a Christmas-themed sweater—or for that matter any brightly colored sweater—but a nice neutral black sweater works fabulously any time.”

“Let’s hope she takes the hint,” Mother said. “Why don’t you tell her I said that?”

“Happy to,” I said. “Josh? Jamie? Finish off your cider so we can go watch Daddy’s play.”

Chapter 37