HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS, Chapter 5: The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

This is the fifth chapter of a holiday series that will run for seven days and end on Christmas.

The Country Squire eventually made its way back to the brick Tudor home of Doug’s youth in Ferndale. Doug’s family felt like they knew him a little better now—having seen the town he grew up in, the high school he graduated from, the drive-in hamburger joint he used to love, the library where he checked out books, the bike shop where he got his first Schwinn, the exact layout of his junior-high paper route, and the grocery store his family used to frequent.

Somewhere along the tour, Dana had him pull over to a convenience store so she could buy a pack of cigarettes, use the restroom, and smoke three of them back-to-back—trying to calm her nerves. The effort of pretending to care about anything she was being shown on the Doug Nolan Hometown Tour was draining what little patience she had left. Kristen and Kim had the good sense to fall asleep somewhere between the library and the A&P.

Making their way in through the side kitchen door, they were greeted by the smells of holiday pies and cookies baking in the oven, mingling with the pot roast simmering in the crock pot. Mashed potatoes—smothered in butter and whipped to perfection—made everyone’s mouth water the moment they crossed the threshold. It was Pavlov’s dog walking into bell choir rehearsal at the Almost United Methodist Church.

“Swear to God,” Dana whispered to Doug, “my clothes aren’t going to fit if we stay the full week.”

Andy Williams crooned on the Magnavox about it being the most wonderful time of the year. Dana figured Andy must have owned stock in grocery stores.

No sooner had the dust settled from their return than the red Mustang Boss 429 screeched to a stop a foot behind the Country Squire. Kyle bounded out of the passenger door, gallantly holding it open for Betz, who climbed out of the back seat. Watching through the front window, Dana was momentarily impressed by her son’s newfound manners—until she saw him ogling Betz’s rear end.

“Men are pigs,” she muttered. “Even the young ones.”

Luckily, Andy drowned her out before Doug or Grandma Nolan could hear her declaration of gender truth. Stan was still upstairs, unseen since breakfast.

Seeing the group approach the porch, Doug opened the front door. “How was the tour?” Bobby asked, grinning. “Not much has changed, has it?”

“Like stepping back in time,” Doug said.

“Centuries,” Dana added under her breath.

“We’ll be eating in about fifteen minutes,” Grandma said. She returned to the kitchen like a miner heading back into a shaft after striking gold. Cooking for family was her love language, and she was riding the crest of the holiday wave she’d waited all year for.

Bobby pulled a couple beers from the refrigerator, handing one to Doug. He considered offering one to Kyle but thought better of it. Maybe when there isn’t an audience, he decided, giving the boy a wink instead.

Dana and Betz asked if they could help, though both knew the answer. Grandma was the maestro of her kitchen symphony—no substitutes allowed.

“Oh no, dears,” she said, smiling. “I’ve got it all under control. You’re kind to ask.”

Kristen waited until the last person had gone to wash up before locking the bathroom door. She heard her dad open the stairwell door and yell, “Dinner’s ready!” and waited until everyone passed before flushing. The parade of people past the door was something she doubted she’d ever get used to.

She hurried to the kitchen and wedged herself into the only open spot.

“Why don’t you say the blessing, Bobby?” Grandma said.

Bobby cleared his throat, bowed his head, and said, “Feet on the floor, backs to the wall, let’s pray to God we can eat it all.”

Kristen stifled a giggle. Kyle didn’t bother. Dana thought, Even the good-looking men are pigs. Grandma silently asked forgiveness for Bobby and wondered where she’d gone wrong.

They had just begun passing dishes when the blare of a horn outside shattered the calm. Someone had pulled into the driveway like they were clearing traffic for an emergency.

“What the hell?” Bobby said. Grandma silently prayed again.

“Good God Almighty—it’s Ann and Don and the boys!”

Everyone turned from the feast to peer out the kitchen window, where a pale yellow and white 1965 Rambler Classic 660 wagon was wedged behind the Mustang, its tail end jutting two feet into the street.

“What is that?” Kyle asked.

“That’s your Aunt Ann and her family,” Doug said.

“No, I mean that thing they’re getting out of. Is that one of those foreign cars?”

Bobby laughed. “Almost—it’s made in Wisconsin!”

Stan looked up and made a sound. No one was sure what it meant.

Moments later, Don burst through the door, shouting “Merry Christmas!” Ann was still outside wrestling with kids, luggage, and a few sparse gifts. Bobby slapped Don on the back and headed out to help his sister, Doug close behind.

“Thank God we didn’t miss dinner,” Don said, peeling off his coat and tossing it vaguely toward the living room. “Didn’t stop for lunch so we could make it in time. We’re starving.” He scanned the table like a man surveying enemy territory. “Nobody cooks like Mama Nolan.”

Grandma smiled thinly.

“Doug, help me get the TV trays from the basement,” she said. Dana followed them down the stairs while Kristen, Betz, and Kim looked at each other like they’d walked into the middle of a play without a script.

Don grabbed a plate, sat where Bobby had been, and began piling food while his wife and sons still struggled outside.

Downstairs, Kyle handed up the last of the TV trays. He noticed the odd assortment of relics in the stuffy closet—punch bowls, slide projectors, photo albums, and a box labeled ANN – WEDDING DRESS. As he passed the final tray to his mother, he felt a few drops on his head but didn’t think much of it.

Back upstairs, Grandma eyed Ann as she came in from the cold. “You look like you’ve put on some weight, dear,” she started to say—just as Ann blurted, “I’m about to burst! We didn’t stop for potty breaks so we could make it by dinner.” She disappeared into the bathroom. Seconds later came a shriek.

Water was already cresting the toilet bowl and spilling into the hallway. Bobby and Doug abandoned their unloading duties and charged up the stairs. Bobby grabbed Don’s overcoat, threw it onto the spreading flood, and reached down to turn off the water supply.

Dana pulled Kristen aside. “Did you flush something that wasn’t supposed to be flushed?”

Kristen’s face went pale. “I had no idea!”

“These are sixty-year-old pipes!” Dana hissed. “They weren’t meant for that!”

Kristen’s eyes welled up, tears overflowing like the toilet bowl.

Within minutes, twelve people suddenly realized they all needed to use the bathroom. Andy Williams kept insisting it was the most wonderful time of the year. No one believed him.

Kyle tugged at his father’s sleeve. “You might want to check the closet in the basement.”

Doug ran down the stairs—and then back up. Don, undeterred, was on his second plate. Stan had vanished upstairs again. The women huddled in Doug’s old room, trying not to get in the way. Grandma stared at her cooling feast, sighed, and began wrapping everything in foil.

Ann reappeared, helping her mother in the kitchen.

“Are you pregnant, dear?” Grandma asked gently.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” Ann said. “Don got a vasectomy. We thought it was impossible. I found out I was pregnant two weeks later.”

“It’ll be alright,” her mother said, drawing her in for a hug.

“I really have to pee,” Ann whispered, breaking the embrace.

Moments later she was trudging across the driveway to the neighbor’s house. Dana, Betz, Kristen, and Kim followed soon after.

Kyle, Doug, and Bobby made their way behind the garage to the narrow strip by the rhubarb patch. Within an hour the snowbank was yellow, and Kyle had managed to spell “K-Y-L” before running out of gas—returning later to finish the “E.”

As the sun set over the snowy Michigan sky, the men gathered at the table, the women in the living room.

“We’ve got the toilet functioning again,” Doug said. “That’s the main thing. But there’s water damage in the bathroom, the hall, and the basement.”

Bobby ran his hands through his long hair, thinking. “Here’s what we do,” he said finally. “I’ve got a buddy with a cabin an hour and a half from here. Betz and I load up the kids in the Country Squire, take them sledding all day. While we’re gone, Doug and Don can take the Rambler to Tony’s Hardware, get what you need for the repairs. Mom, Dana, and Ann can take the Mustang to the mall and go Christmas shopping. By the time we’re all back, everything’s fixed, and the house is good as new.”

The plan hung in the air. Then, from nowhere, Stan appeared. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “I’ve got an employee discount. I can help with the repairs.”

Everyone blinked, stunned.

Doug smiled. “That’s the plan then. Just a minor setback. Nothing we can’t handle. It’s not like there’s no room at the inn—just a few issues at the inn that need fixing.”

In the living room, a different miraculous conception was being discussed. Dana and Betz offered encouragement. “Three’s the way to go,” Dana said. “You’ll love it.” Ann fought back tears, grateful for the kindness.

Down in the basement, Doug’s kids and Ann’s boys were awkwardly trying to get acquainted. Eventually, Kyle unearthed a couple of decks of cards from behind the bar, and the cousins found a tentative truce in Go Fish and laughter.

Later, Doug, Bobby, Stan, and Don gathered everyone upstairs. The plan was announced and met with universal relief.

“I’m starving,” Bobby said. “Pretty sure we skipped dinner somewhere in all that.”

Grandma stood. “It’ll take forty-five minutes to reheat everything.”

Doug shook his head. “Sit down, Mom. We’re loading up the two wagons and heading to Papa Nick’s for pizza—my treat. It was always Dad’s favorite.”

That night, upstairs in Doug’s boyhood room, Dana whispered, “You know we’re using the money we saved for Disneyland on this trip, right?”

“Probably so,” Doug said. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“No arguments. Just making sure we’re on the same page.” She paused. “Your sister didn’t want to get pregnant. And… she let it slip they didn’t bring gifts for their kids. They couldn’t afford any. She said we’d find out soon enough.”

There was a long, quiet pause.

“You’re going shopping tomorrow anyway,” Doug said softly. “Find out what they need.”

Dana smiled faintly. That’s why she’d married him. Disneyland could wait. Maybe they’d do San Antonio next year—or maybe Michigan was their vacation this time around.

She quietly got out of bed, moved the nightstand, and together they pushed the twin beds of Doug’s boyhood room side by side.