Chapter 8 - Christmas at Margaret'sA year passed.
The Christmas season returned to Chicago, wrapping the city in brilliant white lights, festive music, and crisp, fresh snow.
On Christmas Eve, I pulled my car into Margaret and Robert's familiar winding driveway. The house was glowing warmly, just as it had every year.
I walked up the front steps carrying a beautifully wrapped gift box—a high-end art book for Robert and a soft cashmere sweater for Margaret.
When Margaret opened the door, she wrapped me in a tight, loving embrace. "Merry Christmas, Emily," she whispered into my hair.
"Merry Christmas, Margaret," I smiled.
Inside, the living room was filled with warm light and the smell of roasting pine and cinnamon. Robert stood up from his chair, a bright smile on his face, and gave me a warm hug.
Noticeably absent was Daniel.
After the divorce was finalized, Daniel had moved to a smaller city in Indiana to take an entry-level sales job at a regional firm. He rarely spoke to his parents, still bitter that they had chosen principle over unearned loyalty. Vanessa Reed had disappeared from Chicago entirely after her custody battle collapsed under the weight of her financial instability.
During dinner, sitting at the long mahogany dining table where Daniel had once sat as the golden son, Robert raised his wine glass.
"To family," Robert said softly, looking around the table at Margaret and then at me. "The family we choose, and the people who stand by what is right, no matter how hard it gets."
"To family," I echoed, clinking my glass against theirs.
Margaret reached across the linen tablecloth and gently squeezed my hand, just as she had done in the middle of the crowded mall a year ago.
May you like
"I am so proud of you, Emily," Margaret said softly. "You built a new life out of the ashes he left behind."
"I had a good teacher," I replied, smiling at her.
