Page 8 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas

SEVEN

MEG

A few days later, Meg found herself on a plane to her hometown of Portland, Oregon.

The December liquid sunshine drenched the Rose City in glorious gray gloom.

It felt like walking through a memory—wet, gloomy, and comforting.

She had to admit that while she missed things about the hipster city of her youth—the bookstores, brewpubs on every corner, food carts, coffee culture, and innate weirdness of it all—and the people, of course, at least some of them—this wasn’t home anymore.

Seeing the world had expanded her viewpoint so much.

Chasing stories over the globe, trekking through deserts and high mountain tops, made Portland feel like a well-worn, well-loved raincoat that she’d outgrown.

She couldn’t imagine herself ever living here again.

Visiting—yes. Staying for good—doubtful.

She was the last person off the plane, thanks to cramming as many clothes as possible into her carry-on suitcase that she had packed within an inch of its life.

A helpful stranger had managed to stuff her bag into the last available overhead bin—row 44, naturally—saving her from needing to bag extra fees, but now she had to defy physics in an attempt to wrangle it free.

She heaved and yanked it with a distinctly un-journalistic slew of profanity.

Was she feeling a bit more edgy at the mere thought of being in the same state as Matt?

Yeah. Probably.

And her luggage was taking the brunt of her anxiety.

Not fair, Meg. Don’t blame the bag.

Once she accomplished the task of prying it free from the bin, she headed for the gate, her nerves kicking into high gear and her palms turning sweaty.

She had told Mom and Gam that she could easily take an Uber from the airport, but they had insisted on coming to pick her up.

Honestly, she was glad. Her stomach was already tangled in a mess of knots as she rolled her suitcase through the crowded airport.

It was a lot—Matt, his party, and her assignment that came with the added pressure of potentially saving Johanna’s job, not to mention her own.

No biggie.

Nothing to worry about.

Nothing to see here.

She wasn’t sure which was making her the most anxious.

Probably a combination. First, there was the thought of seeing Matt after their breakup that wasn’t exactly a breakup.

Then, there was the pressure of delivering a heartwarming holiday story about snocross.

How she was going to blend heartwarming and snocross was a mystery at best.

And what about her job and her future?

She could already anticipate the onslaught of questions sure to come from Mom. She didn’t have answers for any of them. This was new territory. Since starting at ESPN, she’d had a singular focus. Now, she was floundering.

She hadn’t felt this untethered since she’d discovered the truth about her father—that he had faked his death.

She’d done all the things—therapy, journaling, tears, meditation, acupuncture, and endless healing sessions with Gam. It had ultimately been time. That and long, hard discussions with Pops about the choices he’d made.

The irony of the situation was that her relationship with Mom had evolved since his betrayal.

Mom and Pops had formally split after he re-emerged from hiding.

Things had been rocky with them long before everything hit the fan anyway.

His decision to go deep undercover had left Mom with no other choice.

It had also sent them into new territory.

Meg had idolized Pops growing up. He had been her hero in every story, which, in fairness to Mom, hadn’t left much room for her.

His death drove a deeper wedge between them.

Ironically, it was his resurrection—not his loss—that ultimately forged a new way forward for her and Mom.

If she was being honest with herself, the fallout from Pops had played a significant role in her decisions with Matt. It was like she needed to make a clean break—to start over again without any of the baggage of her formative years.

But was Matt baggage?

She sighed and scanned the crowd, spotting Mom and Gam waiting near an artisanal kombucha booth.

How perfectly Portland, she thought as her heart soared, and she waved and ran to greet them.

She broke out into a jog, focusing on the two women who had shaped her and somehow still believed in her. She hoped she wouldn’t disappoint them.

Mom stood out in her usual polished perfection amongst the sea of muted gray and black puffy coats and rain jackets.

She wore tailored cream slacks, a pair of pumps, and a silky sweater with a matching scarf.

The sharpness in her cheeks had softened with the years, or maybe it had taken this long for Meg to recognize the warmth in her eyes.

Gam was the embodiment of pure joy: a flowing purple tunic, a bright teal skirt, and enough dangling jewelry to supply her own shop.

“Mary Margaret Reed!” Mom waved in return as Meg approached. “You look gorgeous, honey. I love this longer hair on you.” She kissed each of Meg’s cheeks and then stepped back to appraise her. “Don’t you love it, Mom?” she asked Gam.

Gam’s eyes sparkled as she shot Meg a knowing wink. “I do.” Gam pressed her lips together in a wide smile. “You’re all grown-up and glowing.”

Mom finally let go so Gam could sweep Meg into a tight hug.

Her petite frame felt even more tiny as Meg wrapped her arms around her.

She was pushing eighty now—not that you would know it by looking at her.

With her naturally tanned skin and age-defying smile, she could easily pass for a young seventy.

Gam always said that meditation and her connection to her spiritual guides keep her young.

She called her daily dose of Zen “Mother Nature’s facelift. ”

As they pulled apart, a little lump swelled in Meg’s throat. She hadn’t realized how much she missed them.

Them.

There was nothing quite like the embrace from the women who came before her. It felt good to sink into, knowing that no matter where she landed in the world, Mom and Gam were always home.

She appreciated the easy comfort of being seen. They still looked at her like she was unbreakable, like the girl who would search for fairies in Forest Park and wrote her first story on a borrowed typewriter was still somewhere inside, beneath her New York touch-up and everything she’d left behind.

She wanted to hold on to that part of herself a little longer.

“It’s good to have our girl home.” Gam squeezed her arm as if she had read Meg’s mind. Gam’s spirit shone through in her bright eyes, but Meg could tell that she was slowing down by her pace as they headed toward the car.

“You are absolutely radiant, Margaret,” Mom commented as if she was wondering what Meg’s secret was. “Like a new woman. I hardly recognize you.”

Meg wished she could say that she had Gam’s dedication to meditating, Tai Chi, or Pilates, but she suspected that any “glow” was much more likely the result of her nervous energy.

“Thanks,” she managed to mumble, wondering if either of them would pick up on the pulsing hum surging through her bloodstream.

If she was already this wound up, how was she going to manage keeping it together once she got to Bend?

“I haven’t seen you with hair this long since you were in elementary school. Remember when you and Jill decided to experiment with dying your hair with Jell-O in middle school?” Mom shuddered. “I swear it took us three hours to wash the sticky gunk out of your poor hair.”

“Well, I was twelve,” Meg responded with a little grin, giving Mom a playful bump on the hip.

“Oh, I know, honey. I’m just saying that New York suits you. The stylish cut, the outfit, everything.” She gave Meg a soft smile.

Meg couldn’t help but feel a tiny flicker of pride.

Over the years, she had come to learn that Mom had deeper qualities than Meg had realized in her moody teens and early twenties when Mom seemed obsessed about appearances and things that didn’t matter to Meg, like skin-care brands, designer purses, or using Jell-O as a substitute for hair dye.

It used to bug her. Especially when Mom would ask her to stop by her club so she could introduce Meg to her friends, who Jill had dubbed “the ladies who lunch.”

But when everything in Meg’s world had fallen apart—Mom had been there. She’d shown up when the shit came pouring down.

Not just present. Solid.

She transformed into a steadfast supporter. Maybe she always had been. In fairness, Meg hadn’t been paying much attention in her younger years.

“Kyle cannot wait to meet you.” Mom’s cheeks tingled with a bright pink blush.

Kyle had been a hot topic on their Sunday night video calls.

Kyle: Kyle this, Kyle that, Kyle, Kyle, Kyle.

Meg had never seen Mom lovestruck. She transformed into a teenager whenever the subject of Kyle came up, which was often.

They’d met on a dating app and been inseparable for over a year.

Meg hadn’t been surprised when Mom called shortly after Thanksgiving with the news that Kyle had proposed.

Mom held out a behemoth, sparkling diamond ring that Meg guessed could probably be viewed from space as they waited for the elevator to take them to the third floor of the parking garage.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” She wiggled her finger for Meg’s inspection.

“I can’t stop looking at it. I’ve been poring over ideas with the wedding planner—we’re thinking of a special moment when we enter the reception, potentially fireworks, although drones might be more realistic, what with fire danger and all.

Kyle loves ice cream, so we’re going to set up a full soda fountain outside, complete with staff in red-and-white-striped uniforms, and then certainly, we’ll have the classics—champagne toasts, a sit-down dinner, dancing, the works.

” Mom beamed as she rattled off more elaborate suggestions.

The elevator dinged, but Meg barely noticed. The ring reflected every flicker of fluorescent light in the garage. Mom’s plans were borderline absurd, but her happiness was real and well-deserved.

Meg loved seeing Mom like this—lit up from the inside, talking a mile a minute about heirloom roses, jazz trios, and tiered cakes.

“You’re coming home for the wedding, right?” Mom asked, but it wasn’t a question.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Meg pressed her hand to her heart and let her jaw go slack. There was no chance she wouldn’t show up for Mom. “Have you set a date?”

“We’ll work around your plans. Kyle’s sons both live here, so it’s just you and your dad, and of course, we’d love to have Jill and Matt attend, too.”

“Matt.” Meg tried to keep her voice neutral, but his name came out like a cough as a cold chill spread through her veins. “You’re inviting Matt to the wedding?”

“Yes,” she replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Meg gulped. “Uh, I don’t know. I guess I just wasn’t expecting that. Have you been in touch with him?”

Mom held the elevator doors open. “We text every few weeks. He likes to make sure you’re doing okay, and he’s so great about keeping in touch with your father. You know your father; if he goes off the grid, he won’t remember to eat.”

“Off the grid” was an understatement. Ever since Pops returned from his extended stint undercover, he preferred to stay in the shadows.

He’d been freelancing and picking up gigs on the side but stayed out of the spotlight.

He didn’t trust big government, local government, the media, AI, the list went on and on.

If Charlie Reed didn’t want to be found, there was no chance of tracking him down.

He called Meg on a burner phone a couple of times a month to tell her about his latest escapades and check in.

She was fine with their arrangement. Through the work she’d done on her own mental health, she’d come to realize she couldn’t change him.

She’d given up trying and decided to meet him where he was at.

According to her therapist, it was a sign of growth.

Currently, Pops was in New Mexico working on an investigation into a major kidnapping on tribal land.

He’d called two weeks ago when he saw the Times piece.

“Maggie, well done, my love. It’s a beauty of a story.

I wish I could go back in time. I would make so many different decisions, but as you well know, we are our choices.

In a different life, I might have made better choices, but alas, in this one, I’m left with my mistakes and regrets.

I rationalized it back then because I believed the work I was doing was important.

It was important but certainly not more important than you or your mom.

“I was not very present with you in your formative years, and when I was present, at least physically speaking, I wasn’t emotionally present.

I’m sure none of this is news to you. When I read your NYT piece, it hit hard and reminded me how much damage I’ve done.

That’s why it’s better this way—you know you can always call me on this burner or find me on the message boards. ”

She wasn’t surprised Matt had been keeping an eye on Pops, but she was shocked he’d remained in touch with Mom.

“You’re seeing him while you’re in Bend, aren’t you? He’s very excited about it. Turning thirty—it’s such a milestone and hard to believe. The party sounds like a wonderful reunion. I’m sure the three of you will have so much to get caught up on.”

“Yeah, sure,” Meg lied.

Gam’s lips pressed together in a hint of a frown, but she didn’t say anything.

Was Meg going to go to the party?

She didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure she was ready to see Matt with another woman, but then again, she could easily live in denial and never be ready. No, she’d made a promise with this trip, not just to show up for this assignment but to stop letting the past take up so much headspace.

Gam once told her that most people spend their entire lives staring out the tiny rearview mirror, fixated on what’s already behind them when they should be focused on the expansive, wide-open windshield in front of them.

Meg had never been particularly good at following that advice. She was here now. Back in Oregon.

And if she wanted to move forward, it was time to stop dragging her past around like her carry-on baggage that she had never bothered to unpack.