A Warm Heart in Winter(95)

“I don’t know why you dragged me here,” Terrie whined. “I don’t—”

“She’s our mother. And it’s almost Christmas. And that’s why you have to come, too, sometimes.”

As they started off for the stairwell, the pit in Elle’s stomach got more hollow.

“I’m hungry,” Terrie said. “Can we go to McDonald’s after this?”

“Sure.”

“Really? You’ll, like, really take me? Even though it’s almost dinnertime.”

“Dad’s out tonight, remember.”

“Oh. Another work event?”

“Yeah,” Elle muttered. “Work again. Always with that work of his.”

Up on the second landing, at their mother’s door, Elle went to knock— The panel opened, and Elle jumped back in surprise—although not because someone other than their mother was standing there. It was because of the smell. Which was . . .

“Are you making dinner?” Elle blurted.

Their mom nodded. “I thought you girls might be hungry. It’s almost six, and I know you like lasagna.”

“Is this our lasagna?” Elle demanded. “I mean—wait. What is that?”

She barged in and stared across the shallow living room at the Christmas tree that had been put up in the corner. The thing was four feet high, and had a coordinated decorating scheme of blue and white lights and bulbs.

No garland. But their mother had never liked garland.

“It’s not a live one,” their mom said. “Without your father to help—well, this was what I could handle. But I think it’s pretty, non?”

Terrie raced over and skidded on her knees on the carpet. “There are presents! This one is for me!”

Elle narrowed her eyes on their mother as the door to the apartment shut by itself. “What’s going on?”

Before their mom could answer, the timer in the kitchen went off. “Excuse me.”

Elle looked around again, and wondered if the Upside Down hadn’t showed up in Caldwell . . . especially as, through the open door to the bedroom, she saw a freshly vacuumed carpet, and a bed that was made, and a sprig of holly in a little vase on the bedside table.

“Girls, wash your hands, please.”

Elle snapped to it without any argument—Terrie, too—because that tone of voice was one she’d spent her childhood respecting. And as she traded off the bar of soap at the kitchen sink with her sister, she tried to remember the last time she’d heard that kind of command.

And look, the table was set for three.

The next thing Elle knew, they were seated together and holding hands, the prayer done in French. And then their mother was serving them from the glass pan in the center of the little table.

“I love this lasagna!” Terrie exclaimed as she accepted her plate.

“Two or one piece?” their mom asked Elle.

Elle looked down at the melted cheese and the perfect layers. “Two. Please.”

Their mother even put a piece on her own plate.

As Elle took a test taste, she closed her eyes because they had started to water. It was exactly right, the sauce, the cheese, the noodles. And this . . . was exactly right, too, the three of them together, just like old times.

“So I’m going back to school,” their mom announced.

“You are?” Elle said as she flipped her lids back up.

“If I work hard, I should finish my psychology degree two summers from now. And then I want to get a master’s in social work.”

“I think that would be amazing, Mom,” Terrie said. “I want to be a therapist, too.”

“I’d love to talk to you about everything I learn,” their mom said.

“I want to help people.”

With your mouth? Elle thought. You’d have better luck being a drill sergeant in the Marines.

“So tell me how school is going for you both.” Their mom flushed. “I’m afraid I haven’t been asking about it enough. I’m afraid I haven’t . . . been present enough. But that’s all going to change from here on out.”

There was a pause. And then Terrie dropped her fork loudly on her plate and launched herself at their mother. Anna Sophia embraced the girl, and then settled her in her lap. As she stroked Terrie’s back and murmured things that were too soft to hear, Elle looked out the window.

The blinds were pulled up, the view one of the parking lot and the shallow ring of trees behind the building.

Confusion warred with a treacherous hope as Elle breathed deep and smelled anew the dinner that had been made specially for her and her sister.

And that was when she saw the tow truck.

It was red and white, the name “Murphy’s” written on the driver-side door. As she stared at it, a memory trembled underneath the surface of her consciousness, something that— From out of nowhere, a headache lit off, and Elle frowned and rubbed her temples.

She had the strangest sense that she had seen the truck before, that it had done something for her, that the night she had taken her father’s car without permission, a tow guy had— “Are you okay?” her mother asked over Terrie’s head.

Elle came back to the present. As she focused on what was on her plate, the pounding ache in her skull immediately let up.