Gavin opened the oven. A column of thin smoke rose from 12 perfectly carbonized rounds. They have character, Elise said. They're rocks, Dana said. Edible rocks.
Are they though? Gavin set the pan down and looked at both of them. You're supposed to be supportive. Elise pressed her lips together to suppress a smile and went back to her wrapping. The paper was still completely wrong for the box.
She folded it over in entirely the wrong direction and kept going with complete confidence, which somehow made it funnier. It was a small moment, nothing, but Gavin couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed in his own kitchen the way he laughed that night. Around 11:00, Dana and Paul put Lucy to bed. Maryanne tidied the kitchen and then retired with her book. Gavin found Elise on the back porch standing with her arms crossed against the cold, looking out at the snow.
She'd borrowed one of his mother's sweaters, a thick red one, and her breath was visible in the night air. He went out and stood beside her. They were quiet for a moment, not uncomfortable, the kind of quiet that settles between people who have spent several hours in close proximity and don't feel the need to fill every space. You doing okay? He said, "Yeah," she said it simply.
"This is not what I expected tonight to be. Better or worse?" She considered that longer than the question seemed to require. better by a lot. A pause. Can I ask you something? She said, "Sure.
When things go wrong at work, when someone else's problem lands on your desk, does it ever bother you that people just assume you'll handle it?" Gavin leaned against the porch railing sometimes. Where's this coming from? Just thinking about something. She was quiet for a moment, then. I have a situation at work.
Someone senior who thinks any decision worth making has to cost someone something. That you can't get to a right outcome without a casualty on the other side. She paused. I'm trying to disagree with him. It's taking more energy than it should.
What kind of decisions are we talking about? The kind that affect a lot of people who didn't get a vote. That's the hardest kind, Gavin said. Elise exhaled. Yeah.
She didn't say more. He didn't push. But the way she'd said it, not like a professional describing a business problem, but like someone describing something wearing her down from the inside, stayed with him. They went back inside 10 minutes later. The storm hit in the early hours of Christmas morning.
By the time anyone woke up, the forecast had been upgraded, half the roads were closed, and the traffic app showed nothing but red lines across the metro. Maryanne appeared in the kitchen doorway at 7 with the expression of someone who had already made up her mind. You're not going anywhere in this, she said to Elise. The guest room is made up. That's not a suggestion.