JonahI grumped my way through Christmas Day, answering my mother’s question about Shannon with a curt, “She’s spending the day with her daughter.”
Vivienne harrumphed right back, “Maybe you should call her.”
I glared. “Maybe you should stay out of it.”
“I think we should all stay out of it,” Sheila advised, brightly.
I sniped my response. “Try not to sound so chipper, Mother.”
“Jonah, whatever went wrong—it was inevitable. Lick your wounds and move on, but don’t take it out on everyone else. You’ve been firing verbal bullets at everyone all day—even at Miranda.”
“I apologized to her, and I’m sorry if I’m poor company. I’m going to take a walk.”
I jumped up from my chair and hurried out the back door, around the back patio, and down to the expanse of lawn behind the house. The massiv
