And Anne was right that it had been Soleil’s doing. Here she was now, taking offense even to her mother’s overly tasteful choice of sweaters.
She needed to suck up her bad attitude and get a little Christmas spirit.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a real drink?” her mother asked, eyeing the glass of punch as if worms were crawling out of it.
“Mom, pregnant women aren’t supposed to drink.”
“Right, that’s what they’re telling us, isn’t it? Another way to keep the little women nice and quiet and dull, isn’t it?”
“This isn’t a feminist issue, it’s a medical one. Fetal alcohol syndrome is real.”
“In my day, a woman could have a cocktail without getting a guilt trip over it, and the babies came out fine.”
Soleil could feel her blood pressure rising. “Right, Mom. Of course.”
“Look at you! I had at least two glasses of wine a day up until the day you were born.”
She wasn’t going to get into an argument here, not at Julia’s holiday party, so she said nothing. Arguing would only make her angry and make her mother more combative.
So she turned her back and walked away. Across the room, she saw a friend from town whom she wanted to say hi to, but before she could reach her, the front door opened and West walked in, followed by a smaller, thinner version of the man Soleil knew was the General.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, smiling with relief. “You can save me from my mother.”
West looked grim as he shrugged off his black wool coat. “You remember my dad, don’t you?”
He did an introduction for the benefit of his father’s bad memory, and John Morgan scowled at Soleil as he muttered a greeting.
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Morgan. How are you feeling?”
“Somebody’s damn cat keeps getting in my house. I’m gonna get my gun and shoot the thing if it doesn’t stay the hell away.”
“Dad, you’re not going to shoot the cat.” West gave Soleil a look.
“I have a farm, you know, Mr. Morgan. We could always use a cat there, if you’d like me to take him,” she said.
Two rescued cats already lived in the barn, but she could accommodate another one, surely.
“Could you really?” West asked, looking relieved.
“Of course.”
He was on the verge of pulling off a button.
“Dad, let me help you with that.” West made a move to take over the unbuttoning, but his father swatted his hands away a little too aggressively.
“I can take my own damn coat off! I’m not an invalid.”
Julia, as if sensing the discord, arrived at West’s side.
“Oh, good, you’re here!” she said, giving him a hug.
“John, I could use your help in the kitchen, if you’d like,” she said to her ex-husband.
West and Soleil exchanged a look over Julia’s head.
“Are you sure about that, Mom?” West asked her, but she ignored him and took the General by the arm, leading him away.
West let out a sigh of relief. “You should have seen me trying to get my dad to leave the house. He insisted he had to stay home and watch some television show that hasn’t been on the air in twenty years.”
“How’d you get him to come with you?”
“I told him Mom was waiting for him.” West shook his head. “Whatever weird time warp Dad’s caught in, it’s one where he’s still married to Mom. Only this time around, he seems to do what she tells him to do more often than not.”
“Wow, so maybe it really is a good thing she’s offering to help you with him?”
West shook his head, his expression grim.
But before he could explain, someone cried out, “Look who’s here-the two lovebirds.”
Soleil turned to see her assistant, Michelle, smiling at them. They hugged, and Soleil whispered to her, “Stop looking so smug.”
Michelle whispered back, “How can I? You two are adorable.”
Soleil flashed her an evil look, which Michelle carefully ignored.
She hugged West next.
“I’m so glad you’re sticking around for the holidays this year,” Michelle said to Soleil. “I don’t think I’ve gotten to see you for Christmas as long as I’ve known you.”
Soleil nodded. “Yeah, I guess this is the first time I’ve stayed around, isn’t it?”
“You’ll have to come over for my New Year’s Eve party! It’s going to be great-we’re getting a Slip ’n Slide for the front yard.”
“Won’t it be too cold for that?”
“Not if you drink enough. I mean, not you, exactly, but the rest of us. No pregnant chicks allowed on the Slip ’n Slide.”
Soleil liked to think of herself as mature enough not to worry about things like being left out of the New Year’s debauchery, but she was beginning to feel as if she couldn’t breathe for some reason.
There was something about having West here, people assuming they were a couple, and all that…How had her life stopped resembling her own so fast?
Her mother approached their group, an evil gleam in her eye. Or maybe it was the whiskey she’d been drinking. Either way, it meant trouble, and Soleil’s entire body tensed.
“Mom, you remember my friend Michelle, don’t you?” Soleil said, hoping to distract her.
“Of course. You’re the one married to the playwright, aren’t you?”
Michelle nodded. “I left him home with a cold tonight, poor guy.”
“Good for you. I’ve never understood why women are so willing to be the nursemaid.”
“It sort of goes with the territory.”
“Exactly!” her mother exclaimed a little too enthusiastically.
Soleil cringed. “Mom…”
“Which is why these two should not get married. Don’t you think they’ve got the perfect situation here, Michelle?”
Her friend blinked, stunned at Anne’s words. “Um, I guess that’s up to them, isn’t it?”
“Marriage isn’t a relationship of equals-it’s a power struggle.”
“How would you know when you’ve never been officially married?” Soleil asked as evenly as she could. “And why are you even talking about marriage?”
“I’m trying to head off disaster at the pass. You get knocked up, next thing you know everyone’s peering at your finger, looking for a wedding ring. Believe me, I know. I lived it.”
“That was thirty-five years ago. A few things have changed since then if you haven’t noticed.”
“We pay lip service, but nothing’s really changed. You’ll see.”
“I personally love the power struggle,” Michelle jumped in, trying her best to lighten the mood. “It’s
Soleil could have kissed her friend. She’d effectively shut her mother up. Her mother, the big avant-garde poet, was remarkably uncomfortable with public discussions of sex.
Public discussions that involved humiliating her daughter-no problem.
But sex? Definitely a problem.
Soleil gave West a look, silently thanking him for putting up with her mother. His eyes were smiling, even though he was trying his best to keep his expression neutral.
He was on her team.
“You look like you could use a little fresh air,” he said, leaning in close. “Why don’t we step outside on the front porch for a bit? Or maybe go for a walk?”
