The Last Noel

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Everyone left in the kitchen stared at Quintin except for Uncle Paddy, who continued to eat without even looking up. “Ye’ve outdone yerself, lass,” he told Skyler. “This is delicious. Isn’t it—Quintin? That’s yer name, right?”

Quintin had been staring back at Skyler and Jamie, but now he turned his attention to Paddy. “Yes, it’s very good,” he said.

“Thank you,” Skyler said. Ridiculous. She was thanking a killer for complimenting her cooking. But they had to get through this somehow, and if being polite was what it would take, then she would be as polite as if she’d been valedictorian of a finishing school.

“You spend a lot of time cooking?” Quintin asked.

“Not really,” Skyler told him, and without thinking, started to rise. He tensed. “Sorry. I just thought I’d have a beer,” she said.

“I’ll have one while you’re up,” Quintin said.

“Hell, I’ll be joinin’ that party,” Paddy said.

Even Brenda spoke up. “Mrs. O’Boyle, I’d love a beer, too.”

“I’ll just grab a six-pack,” Skyler said. Poor Brenda. The girl was probably wishing herself miles and miles away right now.

She could have been with her own family. In fact, Frazier could have been with them, as well.

She was the reason they were here instead. She had subtly tried to make him feel guilty for even considering spending Christmas somewhere else. But, Frazier, you really should come while we still have the house. You know we’ll probably get rid of it soon, since there’s no sense keeping it now that you kids don’t really enjoy it anymore. Just this year…