Chapter 14
When Emily left home for good, we got out of the habit of giving barrelloads of Christmas presents, agreeing to hold the line at one or two, max. We’d made pacts with our siblings, too: a gift apiece and cash for the kids. I was always a little sad about that. It’s hard to get sentimental over cash, after all, unless it has James Madison’s picture on it.
We’d held the line this year, too. Sort of. Wrapped up under the tree was a hand-knit sweater for Paul, something in a small box from Aurora Gallery for me, and a half dozen gifts for Emily and Dante. But Santa had really turned the sack upside down for Chloe. It was all my fault. When I enter a*****e I must have GRANDMA written large on my forehead because the sales staff attach themselves to me like refrigerator magnets. How
