A White Christmas

By Sunanda J. Chatterjee

Successful lawyer Melissa, stay-at-home-mom Jessica, and Chef Dominic have not visited home for Christmas since their father died two years ago. But when their elderly mother invites them home for the holidays and shares her plan to sell the house, the three siblings plan a surprise for her.

Little do they know their mother has a surprise of her own.
Meet the White family for their unexpected Christmas reunion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunanda J. Chatterjee
• Release date: Apr 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9798215720219

Sunanda J. Chatterjee

Freelance author, blogger, and ex-Indian Air Force physician Sunanda Joshi Chatterjee completed her graduate studies in Los Angeles, where she is a practicing pathologist. While medicine is her profession, writing is her passion. When she’s not at the microscope making diagnoses, she loves to write fiction. Her themes include romantic sagas, family dramas, immigrant experiences, women’s issues, and medicine. She loves extraordinary love stories and heartwarming tales of duty and passion. Her short stories have appeared in short-story.net and induswomanwriting.com. She grew up in Bhilai, India, and lives in Arcadia, California with her husband and two wonderful children. In her free time, she paints, reads, sings, goes on long walks, and binge-watches TV crime dramas.

Book preview

a white christmas

Sunanda J. Chatterjee

Contents

A White Christmas

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1. Bonus Material

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A White Christmas

Copyright © Sunanda J Chatterjee 2016

First appeared in Holiday Heartwarmers

and Lost and Found, a collection of short stories

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MELISSA WHITE BUTTONED her shirt and rummaged through her drawer for an undamaged pair of pantyhose. She was already late for her big day, having spilled coffee on her lucky blouse, and she had to find another one in a hurry. Outside, the last fall colors set the park trees on fire as busy New Yorkers scurried to the subway clutching their Starbucks.

Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller: Mom.

Melissa considered letting it go on voicemail, but something made her pick up the phone. Mom, I’m in a huge hurry. Can I call you back this evening?

Hon, you’re working too hard. Her mother’s tone wasn’t sad for once.

Melissa found beige pantyhose in near-perfect condition and pulled them out. "Mom, my client is this close to firing my firm if I’m late to court."

Wrapped up in the pantyhose, a glass curio fell to the floor with a thud. She groaned and picked it up. She had forgotten it existed. A birthday present from her high school boyfriend on the day of her senior prom. He had made it himself and was dismayed when she asked if it was a hedgehog. It was meant to be a rose.

A small part had broken off, and she slipped it into her purse to glue together in her office later.

She hooked the phone in the crook of her neck and hopped on one leg as she pulled on the pantyhose.

Her mother said, Okay, I’ll make this quick. Come home for Christmas this year.

Melissa closed her eyes and sighed. Mom, are you really ready for a big holiday?

A long pause. He’s been gone for two years.

I don’t know. I’m in the middle of a trial. She touched the speaker button and put the phone on the bathroom counter cluttered with makeup and hair products. Then she patted her skirt, checked her makeup, reapplied lipstick, and ran a brush through her wavy brown hair. Perfect.

Think about it, her mother said. It may be the last time in the house.

Mesilla picked up the phone. What do you mean?

I’m thinking about selling it.

How can you sell the house we grew up in?

Melissa slipped into her Louboutin heels, put on her Burberry jacket, grabbed her briefcase, and headed out of the fortieth story penthouse she had bought three years ago after her divorce. To feel good about herself.

Her mother’s answer seemed rehearsed. You’ve all grown up. The house is too big for me.

Melissa’s heels sank in the plush carpet as she hurried down the corridor. Can we talk about it later?

And I have a big surprise.

Not again! Mom, I’ve told you before: I don’t want to go out with Bert.

You’ve been divorced for three years now. You’re still single.

And I like it. Not really. She jabbed the elevator button with gusto.

Let’s at least talk about it later.

As the doors opened, Melissa saw herself in the mirrored walls and checked her teeth for lipstick. I’m going into the elevator. Losing signal now.

She hung up and wondered how to break