Everyone began arranging themselves near the fireplace.
Linda handed Riley her phone.
“Take it.”
Riley looked down at the phone.
“Can we use the timer?”
“It never works right.”
“It works.”
“Riley, please. Everyone’s finally looking.”
So Riley stepped behind the phone.
Jason put one arm around Stephanie.
Emma smiled.
Oliver raised two fingers behind his father’s head.
Sky sat in Stephanie’s arms.
Linda stood proudly beside them.
Riley took several pictures.
“Got it.”
“Another.”
She took another.
“Okay.”
Linda immediately started checking them.
Nobody said, “Now one with Riley.”
Riley noticed.
She told herself not to.
It was only a photograph.
The following morning she opened Facebook while drinking coffee.
Linda had posted one of the pictures.
So grateful for my whole family.
Riley stared at the caption.
Everyone in the photograph smiled.
Everyone except the person who had taken it.
For nearly a minute Riley simply looked.
She knew it was petty.
Small.
Nothing worth starting a family argument over.
That was exactly the problem.
Linda’s behavior always existed in the space beneath confrontation.
If Riley complained, she would sound oversensitive.
If she stayed silent, the pattern continued.
Useful.
Needed.
Invisible.
Riley closed Facebook.
She opened her laptop.
And worked.
Two weeks later, Linda called again.
Riley was in the middle of editing a technology-company website scheduled to launch immediately after Christmas.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Busy?”
“Yes.”
Linda ignored the answer.
“Jason and Stephanie are exhausted.”
Riley continued typing.
“They have three kids.”
“I know.”
“That tends to create exhaustion.”
Linda sighed.
“They haven’t had time alone since Sky was born.”
“That sounds believable.”
“I found this beautiful cabin near Breckenridge.”
Riley stopped typing.
“For them?”
“Yes. Christmas getaway.”
“That’s nice.”
“Three nights. Fireplace, hot tub, mountain views.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“It was discounted.”
“Good.”
Linda paused.
Riley knew.
She knew the silence.
Every Linda Bennett favor had a moment when the pleasant introduction ended and the real request appeared.
“You can keep the kids.”
Riley stared at her screen.
“What?”
“December twenty-third through the twenty-sixth.”
“No.”
Linda laughed softly.
“Riley.”
“I have a deadline on the twenty-seventh.”
“You work from home.”
There it was.
Riley put both hands flat on her desk.
“Yes, Mom. Which means I work.”
“The kids won’t bother you.”
“There are three.”
“Emma is practically independent.”
“She’s six.”
“Oliver has his tablet.”
“He’s four.”