Page 9 of Season of Gifts

He locked up the bike and dug into the panniers, pulling out the tote inserts to carry upstairs.Maybe at lunch, he and Alice could strategize for the scavenger hunt tonight.The tree decorating last night had been one for the record books.If Henry kept it up with his calendar surprises, he’d never be able to top this Christmas.And making them open the envelopes before work but wait untilafterwork to get the prize was Henry at his most patience-demanding-est.

Exiting the stairwell on Mrs.Eickhoff’s floor, Jay got hit by a wave of chatter in the hall.Gossip, probably.If there was any, she’d tell him about it.She couldn’t pass up good gossip.He turned the corner and sidestepped a couple standing outside their door.“Excuse me.Coming through with a delivery, thank you.”

A handful more people blocked the hallway ahead in a tight cluster.

“Sorry, just need to get by.”

Hefting the bags higher, he spotted the building super standing alone and waved, pointing toward the bags.“Delivery.Need to get these in the fridge.”

The super met him halfway, and the chatter in the hall grew louder.“Jay, isn’t it?She talks about you.So helpful.Why don’t you, uh—” The man glanced over his shoulder; the door to Mrs.Eickhoff’s apartment stood open.“Why don’t I take those for you?”

Well, that had never happened before.“No, I’m good, thanks.”Beyond the knot of people, stepping past the skinny super with his graying fringe posed no challenge.“Mrs.Eickhoff has deluxe service.I’ll just get these put away—”

Mrs.Eickhoff’s breakfast sat on the table.Her chair was pushed back, but she wasn’t in it.

“I’m so sorry,” the super said, or something like it.His voice floated with an odd echo.

Mrs.Eickhoff lay on her side on the floor, the vinyl pattern she scrubbed every week with an old-fashioned mop—“not those lazy contraptions the kids today use, a real mop.Only way to get the grime up, you know.”One of her house slippers had fallen off.

Her foot would get cold that way.She always complained the building radiators didn’t put off enough heat to warm the floorboards, not like they had in the old days.

Jay stepped inside the apartment.

“Oh, no, you really shouldn’t—”

“I have to put the groceries away.”Mrs.Eickhoff didn’t funny ha-ha ask for a hand up after pulling a successful prank.She just lay there, wrinkled and tired, not at all like the woman who last week had gleefully rubbed her hands together and set dessert in front of him while he unloaded her bags.“She likes everything in the right spot for when she’s baking.”

“Jay?”The thin voice belonged to the wiry older woman pushing herself up from the little brown couch on the other side of the room.“Oh, I didn’t even think—well, I wouldn’t have known how to reach you—it’s awful.Just awful.Poor Evelyn.”

“No, she’s—” Nothing could be wrong; of course it couldn’t.Mrs.Eickhoff had left an extra message this morning at dispatch, before six o’clock, like always, because she was an early riser.About the creamer this time, could he please pick up the seasonal peppermint.“I have her creamer.”

“Of course you do, honey.That’s all right.”The woman rested her hand on his arm and steered him around the breakfast table, around Mrs.Eickhoff in her floral housecoat, over to the kitchen counter.She patted the worn but clean laminate.“You go ahead and put everything away.My life used to be more than an endless funeral, too.”

He placed every item carefully: cold goods in the fridge, shelf goods in the cupboard, the rum raisin ingredients on the counter near the stove, where a stained recipe card with blue ink and three stars waited.The rum came out of his coat pocket last, standing just so beside the little box of raisins.The super and the woman argued quietly while he worked.

Mrs.Murray, that was her name.She lived down the hall and joined the gin rummy game except when her daughter was in town.He folded the totes flat and tucked them under his arm.The tablet resting in the cradle on the counter showed two missed video chats, eight o’clock and eight fifteen.

Mrs.Eickhoff still lay on the floor.

“Has anyone…” His voice failed; the super and Mrs.Murray stopped their hushed conversation and turned toward him.Eyes, lips, cheeks—they all got heavier from bad news.Drooped down like umbrella edges.“Has anyone called her sons?She, uh, she talks to the grandkids every morning, I think.”

Talked.She wouldn’t be doing that anymore.

More whispered discussion.Mrs.Murray came and put her arm around him, squeezing him in a side hug with unexpected strength.“You’re such a thoughtful boy.She always enjoyed your visits.I called 911 when I came over to help set up for cards, but those fellows haven’t arrived yet.Not a priority.That’s how it is when we die—wait around until someone remembers they have time for us.”She barked a short laugh.“Not all that different from how it is before death.”She patted his chest.“Not you, though.I bet you help out your mother all the time.My Janet, now, she visits—”

“I’m, I, uh, sorry—” He backed toward the door, his breath short, an odd flutter in his lungs.Not anymore.Mom and Peggy got no help, no visits, not from him.“I can’t stay today, I need to, I need—I’m sorry.”

He fled into the hall, through the pack of gossipers, and ran down the stairwell, smacking his hip on the old wood banister, before he burst into the cold air outside and sucked in the deepest breath he could manage.Held it, bent with his ass braced against the brick and his hands on his thighs, the empty totes lying on the ground at his feet.

Her skin had been splotchy, the heel of her uncovered foot purpling like a bruise.Surprise on her face, her eyes wide the way they got when he unpacked whatever treat she’d put on her list that week.I’m not supposed to have them, she’d confide, as she nibbled the edge of a shiny glazed pastry,but what my doctor doesn’t know won’t hurt him.Who wants to live without a little joy in life?Not me.

He dug out his phone.Henry and Alice smiled at him from the lockscreen.Pressing his forehead to them, he willed them to loan him their smarts.Mrs.Eickhoff’s sons were Henry’s age, and they lived in a different state like he did.Henry looked after his mom real good.He would want to know the instant anything happened.Jay had their contact info back at his office.

In a flash he had his gear situated and his bike pointed toward headquarters, flying down the street.

Couldn’t be more than forty degrees today, but his hair was dripping sweat into his eyes when he hopped off his bike and walked it into the main floor.He’d give it the post-ride check after he’d spoken to her family.He snatched a hand towel off Carrie’s desk and mopped his face.“Can you pull up the file for the Eickhoff contract?I need to make a call.”

“Sure, I can do that.”His dispatcher eyed him as she typed.“Aren’t you supposed—”

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