Page 10 of Season of Gifts

He pitched the towel at the laundry bin.Missed.

“—to be heading to lunch right now?”

Fuuuck.

He whipped out his phone.Fifteen minutes.Maybe Alice hadn’t left her office yet.He fired off a text.

Work thing came up.Can’t eat today.See you at home tonight.

Nope, too vague, and he’d already sent it.He threw in a pile of follow-up hearts so she wouldn’t worry.

Carrie, leaning back in her chair, stared up at him.“Everything okay, boss?”

He scooped up the towel and placed it properly in the rolling cart.Mrs.Eickhoff kept her apartment neat and tidy.She wouldn’t approve of towels on the floor.“Yeah, no, today’s been—”

Carrie’s headset chimed.“Hold that thought.”

As she fielded a call from a client, he slipped into his office.The Eickhoff file had been transferred to his screen, a record of every weekly visit for the last year and a half.He clicked on the icon beside today’s job, with its arrival and departure times automatically logged from the GPS tracker on his bike.A blank comment box waited for anything he wanted to add.He clicked on the audio from the client side of the screen.

Good morning, Carrie!You tell Jay to bundle up—it’s December already, and sometimes I still see that boy wearing shorts over leggings.That can’t be warm enough.I know I gave you the finalized list yesterday, but I forgot one eensy thing.If you could let him know to pick up peppermint creamer, I would be delighted.Frances down the hall is putting it in her hot chocolate at night, and oh my, what a difference!That sharp little kick is just the thing.Now if you have any questions, you call me right back.I’m sitting down to breakfast.The trick to the eggs is a little pepper—and a fat pat of butter on the toast.That’s just between us—if anyone asks, it’s no butter, no salt, no fun at all.Her laugh rippled clear and strong.You have a good morning, honey.Bye-bye now.

His finger hovered over the replay.No.The hard part first.Then he could give in to the gnawing in his gut hollowing him out.

Todd, that was the older Eickhoff son.He dialed.The phone connected on the first ring.

“Mr.Eickhoff, hey, it’s Jay Kress up in Boston.Do you have a few minutes?”

“What’s going on up there, Jay?My wife couldn’t get through this morning.The kids missed their breakfast kisses before school.”

Tipping his head back, he squinched his eyes closed and shoved down the emotion crowding him.This wasn’t about him.“I’m so sorry to have to tell you.”

Chapter five

Alice

Alicepassedherphoneacross the kitchen island.“It’s not like him.He didn’t say anything to you?”

Frowning, Henry studied the message.She’d sent back reassurance and a basicEverything okay?Call me if you need to talk, sweetheart.and heard nothing else all day.Jay had obviously been busy, and he knew better than to text in traffic, but what the hell was the assortment of emojis?It looked like he’d pulled up the heart screen and added one of everything.

“No, nothing.”Henry slid the phone back to her.“I would have expected him an hour ago.”

Whatever had come up at work for Jay, it hardly could have taken all day.And he’d been giddy this morning about the promise of hunting for a gift from Henry tonight after dinner.Things that might make Jay late were—Jay swathed in bandages after slamming into a delivery truck door in January.“You don’t think he, uh…” Nope, those words didn’t want to come out.“Should we call—”

The front door opened with the sweettick-tick-tickof a bicycle rolling into the entryway.Henry, gazing down the hallway past her, lifted his chin, his eyes focused and assessing.

“No visible injuries,” he murmured, and she squeezed his hand in thanks.Raising his voice, he called, “We’re in the kitchen, Jay.Come here before you go up to shower, please.”

The soft thud of shoes in the hall carried the news of Jay’s compliance.He stepped into the kitchen somehow aged a decade since breakfast—his gaze listless and vacant, his shoulders slumped.“Sorry I’m late.”

“Have you eaten anything this afternoon?”Henry took Jay’s arm as she pushed out a seat at the island for him.

“Maybe?”Jay shook his head.He sat.“I don’t remember.Probably.”

Henry smoothed Jay’s hair back with such thoroughness that on the third sweep of his fingers the light bulb dinged in her head that he was checking for tender spots, for a possible concussion.

“Let’s have a snack, then.”Henry’s voice soothed, low and even, though his slight squint revealed he hadn’t found any definitive answers yet.They were stuck in an analysis loop until Jay provided more clues.“A nice warming bowl of three-bean soup.”

“I’ll get it.”Planting a kiss on Jay’s shoulder, she hopped down from her own seat.Around the counter, she fetched a bowl for the soup waiting on the stove.Henry hadn’t finished—dinner was still half an hour away, and she’d interrupted his preparations with her arrival—but the soup had been left to simmer and smelled done enough to her.A block of hard, nutty cheese sat on a plate nearby.She ran it across the grater a few times and dumped the result onto the thick brown soup.Adding a spoon from the drawer, she slid the bowl in front of Jay.“Work kept you busy today, huh, sweetheart?Last-minute additions?”

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