Family Ties

“Wren! Pay very close attention to me. If you say whatever it is you’re thinking, you know how it’ll go. Trip’s pretty easygoing, but he isn’t a pushover.”

“Damn straight,” he said under his breath.

“And you have to admit,” I told her in a softer tone, “you weren’t very nice a minute ago.”

Christy silently shook her head.

Wren looked truculent but didn’t argue.

“And you,” I said to Trip, “didn’t have to be a jerk about spoiling her plans. Just in case you thought you were gonna get off scot-free here. Wren plays her little games, all right? We all know what they are, and they’re usually harmless. Yeah, she puts you up to things and you have to start a conversation sometimes. Is that really so bad? I mean, compared to… say…

telling you she doesn’t love you anymore and leaving with another guy?”

He jerked upright. His high school girlfriend had broken his heart when she’d done just that.

“Yeah, I remember,” I said. “So… lemme ask you again: is starting a conversation really that bad?”

“No, I guess not,” he said after a moment. “But that was a really low blow, man.”

“You’re right. But it made you stop and think, didn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“Uh-huh. And maybe for all her scheming, Wren’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Besides,” I added, “her scheming is because she wants her friends to be happy. I can think of a lot worse offenses than that.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“So maybe you can lighten up about it?”

He nodded.

“And you,” I said to her, “can maybe treat Trip like more than a glorified waiter. He’s a lot better than that asshole on the swim team you used to date.”

“A million times better,” she said with genuine contrition.

I sat back and huffed as the tension dissipated. “You two are gonna give me gray hairs before I graduate.” I grabbed my wine, drained the glass, and swiped the bottle for a refill. “I did not sign up for this shit!”

“Sorry I put you up to it,” Wren told him quietly.

“Sorry I got obnoxious and hardheaded.”

“Paul’s right. You’re pretty wonderful.”

“’Cept when I’m not.”

“But only when I make you do things you don’t want to.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

He nodded.

She reached over and touched his hand. He turned it palm-up and clasped hers.

I breathed a long sigh of relief and glanced at Christy, who smiled and blinked back tears.

“So,” I said after a moment, “tell me about this ski trip.” I picked up my refilled wineglass and gestured at Wren with it. “Trip’s on your side.

Obviously. And you went behind my back to convince my— your— our girlfriend. Well played, by the way. What is that? Four to nothing? Five?”

“I stopped counting,” Wren said. She cleared her throat and took a long sip of wine. “Someone convinced me it was real people with real lives.”

I laughed and saluted her with my glass.

“Do you wanna tell him, sweetheart?” she said to Trip. “It’s your story.”

“Yeah, okay.” He sat forward and pushed his own wineglass aside. Then he smoothed the tablecloth as he gathered his thoughts.

The longer version of the story was that he and Wren had been discussing a ski trip since they’d first mentioned it, several weeks earlier. They’d originally been thinking Colorado and had asked his parents if they knew anyone with connections in the area. Did it have to be Colorado, his father had asked, or would anywhere do? It would, they’d said, so he’d made a call to a songwriter friend who owned a cabin in Squaw Valley, in California. The friend had offered to let Trip and Wren use it for as long as they wanted.

“The owner doesn’t mind if you bring guests?” I asked.

“Practically insisted when we told her,” he said.

“It isn’t right on the slopes,” Wren said, “but she said it’s a short walk from the resort.”

“Hey, I’m not gonna complain,” I said. “Beggars can’t be choosers.

Besides, I know how much those places cost. I’ll take ‘free’ any day.”

“No kidding,” Trip said.

“What about the sleeping arrangements?” I shot a sideways glance at Christy.

She hesitated and then nodded.

“It’s a two-bedroom cabin,” Trip said, “but the couch in the living room folds out.”

“I can live with that,” I said, and Christy nodded. “What do you think?” I asked her. “Is it too soon? I mean, that’s a pretty big step.” I could almost hear Wren hold her breath.

“I… think we can make it work,” Christy said.

“We’ll have separate beds.”

She nodded, but I caught the barest flicker of disappointment.

I smothered a smile and glanced at Wren, who winked.

“So it’s settled,” Trip said. “I’ll let the owner know.”

“And I’ll make the flight arrangements,” I told Christy.

She rolled her eyes but nodded. Then she extended a hand and took mine.

We’d just made our second major decision as a couple.

Wren and Christy each had an exam on Saturday, while I had two, including Joska’s. I hadn’t really studied, per se, but the whole quarter was basically one long study session. “Architecture is a serious business for serious people,” he claimed, and his exams were serious. I passed with flying colors.

I didn’t even need to see the grade; I just knew.