Chapter 15
In the backseat, wedged between my father and sister, I hear my mother say, “How long have you been sheriff, Phil? And do you like potato au gratin? How about a chocolate and peanut butter trifle? I’m baking my specialties for Christmas dinner while I’m here. You’re going to thank me later, sweetie.”
I interrupt my mother because she can go on like a chugging choo-choo train. “Mom, let’s not get gung-ho about desserts right away. Save some of your surprises for later.”
She calls me by my childhood nickname as she asks, “Do you get cable, Chrissie? I don’t want to miss my stories.”
I look to where Philip sits hunched over in the driver’s seat, staring out the foggy windshield into a blizzard of snow whipping around in every direction. I lay my head back, and exhale. “Mom, how
