Yes, it had sucked. Catherine had tried not to turn on the waterworks again when the kids and grandkids gathered their presents and put on their coats to go home, but she’d failed. Ho, ho, ho. They’d all left like people anxious to leave a funeral.
But this year Catherine was in a better place, and she’d wanted to make new memories. Still regaining her energy from her hysterectomy, she hadn’t felt up to preparing a big meal at Thanksgiving. But now, with the year coming to a close, she’d been feeling more energetic and ready to ring in the holidays. She’d never imagined doing that by herself.
“We’re going to Park City with James’s parents for Christ¬mas,” Lila had said when Catherine called her. Where there would be skiing and spoiling aplenty. James lacked for noth¬ing and, after marrying him, neither did Lila.
Not that she’d lacked for much of anything growing up. Catherine had done her best to make sure of that.
“You’ll be fine for a few days, won’t you?” Her daughter’s tone of voice added, “Of course, you will.”
“Yes, but what about your presents?” Presents were always a good lure. Maybe they could get together beforehand.
Sadly, no. Lila had sooo much to do. “You can send them along with us,” she’d offered.
William had beaten Catherine to the punch, mentioning when she’d checked in on him that he and Gabrielle were taking the kids to Cabo for the holidays. “We need to get away,” he’d said.
So did Catherine. Nobody had offered her the opportu¬nity to get away with them. But then, who liked a tag along, anyway?
“You spoil the kids,” Bill used to say. He’d especially said it whenever Catherine went over to Lila’s house to help with the babies or unpleasant cleaning chores. “Lila can clean her own house. Hell, she can afford to hire someone to clean her house. And she sure can afford to pay a babysitter. It doesn’t always have to be you.”
Yes, but Catherine had wanted to help her daughter. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do when you got older, help the younger generation? And, besides, she liked spending time with the grandkids.
If Bill had been alive to witness her loaning their son that chunk of money for the bathroom remodel six months earlier he’d have had a fit. William now had a new position in his company and was making a boatload of money. So far there had been no mention of paying her back. He would though. Eventually. Hopefully.
“Why don’t you come with me on my cruise?” Denise suggested.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Catherine hesitated.
“Come on,” Denise urged. “This Christmas cruise is going to be fabulous. We’ll hit all those European Christmas mar¬kets, drink Glühwein, eat gingerbread…”
“Blow our diets.”
Not that Denise needed to worry about that. She never went more than five pounds over svelte. Catherine, on the other hand, rarely made it within twenty pounds over her ideal weight. If only she didn’t like to bake…and eat what she baked.
“We can get back on them in the new year.” Denise pointed out the coffee shop window at the gray Seattle sky. “Don’t you want to get away?”
Catherine did, indeed, want to get away, not just from the Seattle rain but from her life. But you were stuck in the skin you were in, and no matter where she went she’d still be going through what she was going through.
“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh and shoved away her to-go cup and the last half of her muffin.
“I really don’t want to be in a stateroom all by myself. That darned Janelle, backing out at the last minute.” Denise shook her head. “It won’t be half as much fun if I have to go by myself.”
She wouldn’t be by herself for long. Unlike Catherine, De¬nise instantly made friends wherever she went.
“And who’s going to keep me from eating too much Kuchen?”
“Kuchen?”
“Cake. German pastries are the best, trust me. Just think, Amsterdam, Heidelberg, men in Liederhosen.”
Catherine raised an eyebrow. “In December?”
“Okay, maybe not. But who knows who we might meet?”
Denise the merry widow. She’d been on her own for ten years. Carlisle, her dead husband, had been her one true love, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying a string of boyfriends or traveling with girlfriends. Denise had adapted well to being on her own. Catherine wasn’t sure she ever would.
Denise brought out her brochure with pictures of the towns and cities where the ship would stop. “Isn’t it magical?”
It did look magical. The brochure showed her town centers with fountains and cobbled streets, stately ancient churches with their spires piercing the sky, pictures of the Christmas markets all lit up and thronged with happy shoppers. And there was a picture of the boat, all decked out in lights.
It was, indeed. And tempting.
“We can split the cost of the room,” Denise continued, “and I’m sure my travel agent can work things out with the cruise company to get you on the plane since Janelle only pooped out on me yesterday. Your passport’s up to date, right?”
“It is.” Catherine had been looking forward to using it after Bill retired. She’d never gotten the chance.
“Then dust it off and let’s go. After we get back you can have Christmas with me and Carrie and the girls.”
A trip down the Rhine River, checking out scenic towns and bustling Christmas markets or sitting home alone, yearn¬ing for the
