Then Sandra raised her glass.
“To Sienna.”
I laughed.
“Again?”
She smiled.
“Again.”
The others raised their glasses.
Sandra looked around the table.
“Thank you for reminding us what it feels like to be included without having to prove we deserve it.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Dennis nodded.
“That’s worth remembering.”
I felt tears gathering.
I looked at the people around me.
Some were related by blood.
Others had been part of our lives so long they felt like family.
None of them was there because of professional influence.
Money.
Prestige.
Or what they might do for someone later.
They were there because I wanted them there.
And because they wanted to be with one another.
I raised my glass.
“To all of us.”
We stayed at the table long after dessert.
Nobody seemed eager to leave.
For the first time since Mom died, Christmas had felt warm again.
When the cruise ended, we returned home with photographs, souvenirs, and more stories than I could count.
At the airport, Lorraine hugged me for a long time.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
I held her close.
“Thank you for coming.”
Dennis stepped forward next.
He gave me an awkward hug.
“Next year, somewhere with mountains?”
I laughed.
“Already planning another vacation?”
He grinned.
“Why not?”
Howard and Sandra promised to invite everyone for dinner soon.
Evelyn said she’d send photographs.
Ruth insisted we start a group chat.
We laughed.
Then everyone began heading home.
For several minutes, I stood beside the airport windows, watching planes move across the runway.
I realized I wasn’t dreading the end of the trip.
I was looking forward to seeing these people again.
Not at Dad’s house.
Not under his rules.
Just because we enjoyed one another.
A week later, Nathan asked to meet.
We chose a small café near the riverfront.
He arrived looking tired.
For several minutes, we discussed ordinary things.
Work.
The weather.
His company’s latest projects.
Then he looked toward me.
“I should’ve said something that night.”
I waited.
“When Dad told you not to come.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
He stared at his coffee.
“I knew it was wrong.”
I took a breath.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
He looked toward the window.
“Because I knew he’d turn on me, too.”
The answer surprised me.
Not because I doubted it.
Because for the first time, Nathan had admitted something honest about our family.
He wasn’t always comfortable in Dad’s shadow.
He’d simply become skilled at living there.
I looked toward him.
“That’s how Dad keeps everyone in line.”
Nathan nodded slowly.
“I know.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “He expected you to apologize before Christmas.”
I smiled sadly.
“I figured.”
“When you didn’t call, he thought you were trying to embarrass him.”
I took a breath.
“Nathan, I went on vacation.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“I didn’t mention him in a single post.”
“I know that, too.”
He looked toward his hands.
Then he added, “The foundation situation is getting complicated.”
I waited.
He explained that the board had requested additional documentation concerning his company’s event contract.
The work had been legitimate.
The pricing could be supported.
But Dad hadn’t handled the approval process as carefully as he should have because he believed everyone trusted him.
Nathan looked embarrassed.
“We should’ve disclosed everything more clearly.”
I nodded.
“Then correct it.”
He looked toward me.
“That’s what we’re doing.”
I studied his face.
For the first time, he didn’t seem interested in asking me to make the problem disappear.
He seemed ready to handle it himself.
Then he said quietly, “Dad may not remain chairman.”
I considered that.