Law school was the last thing he wanted to get into. “I’ve just had everything laid out for so long and now…”
She smiled, her tone teasing. “You know, it’s okay for Captain Max to not have every little thing figured out. You can call an audible.”
“Changing the play at the last minute doesn’t always go well.”
I promised Mom at her funeral I’d be a lawyer just like her.
But do I actually want to be a lawyer? Would I rather be a teacher? Or something else?
Will Mom understand?
Meg said, “But sometimes you get a touchdown.”
“Kids!” Valerie called from downstairs. “Tree time!”
It was a relief to put aside the swirl of conflicting emotions, the little whispers fading. They met Jeremy in the hall coming out of the bathroom and went down. Max inhaled the delicious smell coming from the kitchen with relish as Jeremy asked, “Wow. What is that?”
“Papy’s maple bourbon apple cider,” Max answered. “It’s our tradition for tree-trimming.”
Papy came into the living room with a tray of steaming mugs, his shuffling steps steady enough, though Valerie and his dad looked like they wanted to grab the tray from him. But he set it on the coffee table himself with a groan as he stooped, then went to get the pastries.
They all took a mug, and Max warmed his hands around it, blowing on the steaming cider. His dad stoked the fire with a shower of sparks, and Valerie unpacked the old boxes of decorations, unwinding neatly twined bundles of golden fairy lights.
Jeremy exclaimed, “Oh!” as he gulped a mouthful of cider. “Is that alcoholic?”
“Of course,” Papy said as he shuffled back in with a plate stacked high with pets-de-soeur pastries.
“We’re French-Canadian,” Meg said. “Booze, maple, Catholic guilt. The three major food groups.”
Jeremy laughed. “What’s the fourth?”
“Hmm.” Meg said, “Papy, what do you think?”
“Tourtière.”
“Not poutine?” Max teased, knowing Papy wasn’t a fan.
Papy glared as he got settled on his spot on the middle love seat. “Meat pie is better and you know it.”
Max grinned and took a bite of buttery pastry. “Mmm. Papy, this is amazing.”
He shrugged but looked pleased. “Your mamy’s recipe is the best. Simple.”
Mouth full, Meg mumbled, “Mmm. Butter, brown sugar, maple. Doesn’t get better.”
Dad stood and clapped his hands. “All right, this tree won’t decorate itself.”
“It’s your job to put on the lights while we watch,” Max noted.
“Funny guy.” But Dad didn’t argue, methodically looping the strands of lights around the tree. Beyond the tree through the front window, the afternoon was already getting dark. The colored Christmas lights on the barn and house were on a timer, and sure enough they soon flipped on.
Kneeling on the area rug, Max unpacked decorations, one of the cardboard boxes so old and ratty that one of the flaps ripped right off when he gently tried to unfold it.
Sitting beside Papy, Jeremy sipped his cider, his cheeks a little rosy. He was quiet, listening to them all tease each other, but he was smiling. When he caught Max’s gaze, he whispered, “What? Is there something on my face?” He swiped at his mouth.
“No, you’re good.” Max bent his head to examine the ornaments, unwrapping glass balls from ancient tissue paper.
“Done!” Dad proclaimed. He flopped onto one of the love seats. “Tinsel is your job, kids.”
Meg had the long red and green metallic garlands ready to go, and Max helped her loop them around the tree. They had to redo one of them three times before they achieved the perfect even coverage.
“Wanna help us hang the ornaments?” Max asked Jeremy.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course!” Valerie exclaimed, passing him a box. “Get in there.”
Meg, Max, and Jeremy went to work while the others drank and ate and pointed out where they should hang things so there were no bare patches. Hanging a dangling silver ornament, Jeremy leaned into the tree and inhaled deeply.
“It smells amazing. Now I see why people get real trees.”
“Have you never had a real tree before?” Valerie asked, her eyebrows raised.
“Nope. My mom says it’s too messy and a fire hazard.”
Valerie said, “Well, yes, but it’s tradition. Also, we need more cider.”
Papy started rocking the way he did when he was going to heave himself up to standing, so Max quickly said, “I’ll get it!”
“I’ll help you,” Jeremy offered, following Max into the kitchen. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. “Oh!”
“Did your dad reply?” Inhaling the sweet, spicy deliciousness, Max stirred the pot of cider that’d been left on a low simmer.
“No, it’s… I didn’t realize—oh! Holy shit.” Jeremy slapped a hand over his mouth and glanced back toward the living room.
Laughing, Max asked, “What?”
Jeremy murmured, “When I unpacked, I looked at that dating app. I was just curious to see if there was anyone else around here using it. I didn’t want to hook up with someone!”
Max worked hard on keeping his smile in place. “It’s okay, dude. You’re allowed to want to hook up.” Which was absolutely true. There was zero reason Max should have the ladle in a death grip. “Usually have to go to Barrie, but once in a while there’ll be ‘straight’ guys in the sticks on the down-low who wanna get busy in their pickup.”
“Wow.” Jeremy seemed legitimately shocked, which was adorable. “I didn’t even realize anyone could see my profile.”
“Probably have to opt-out in the settings.” It was all Max could do not to snatch the phone away and delete the app, which would definitely be a dick move for a fairy godfather. He shouldn’t discourage Jeremy if this was what he wanted. He was free to explore and have fun. “So who is it?” He couldn’t resist adding, “Can’t imagine there’s anyone really worth seeing around here.”
Jeremy held up his phone. “Um, ‘Upbeat-underscore-drummer-underscore_guy.’ He lives near Barrie.”
“Which username did you go with?”
“Oh, just a variation on my Insta. Had to add an extra underscore or something.”
“Cool, cool, cool. So, what do you think of him?” Max stirred the cider roughly, the ladle clattering on the sides of the pot and hot liquid splashing the stove.
“Looks…nice? He’s showing his face. Kinda hipster, I guess? Shaggy hair and a beard. Around our age. Not sure how he can really tell, but he says I look cute.”
He’s right. “Clearly has good taste.” Max reminded himself this had been the initial idea when he’d taken Jeremy under his wing. Here was the fairy godfathering he’d intended. The responsible, unselfish thing to do was encourage Jeremy, not hold him back.
The words actually hurt his dry throat as he said, “Ask him if he wants to meet for coffee,” before he could change his mind. Because it would be selfish. Fairy godparents weren’t supposed to cock block.