Page 72 of Season of Gifts

“Not so much now, she’s so busy learning to be a doctor.I never would’ve thought—well.”Mom perched on the edge of a chair and patted the table.“But sit, sit.Do you two talk much?You were so close as girls.”

Close because they’d been clinging to each other for survival.The best they could hope for was not being noticed, not earning a lecture about how they just needed to understand, or be kind, or stop being selfish, or step up and pull their weight—Alice slung her coat over the chair and sat.“We keep in touch.Thank you for sending her the photos for my birthday.”

Telling Mom she talked to Ollie almost weekly would feel like twisting the knife.Counting their text chain, she spoke with Ollie a good hundred times for every one time she called and wished Mom a merry Christmas or a happy birthday.Even more often lately, keeping Ollie and Nat updated about Henry’s mom.

“Oh, did you like them?Did they get there in time?I had so much fun looking for just the right shots.”Leaning back, Mom glanced into the dining room.“I hope I sent some good ones.”

The old photo albums sat open on the table, heaped beside a miniature Christmas tree.The colorful lights glowed blue and green and pinkish-red, coiling around a handful of ornaments.Thebaby’s first Christmasglobes, the wallet-size school pictures of Alice and Ollie, the Santa and Mrs.Claus they’d gotten as a tree topper the year Ollie had tried to place the star and it smashed on the floor instead.

“They were great, Mom.She and my—she and Jay, my—”

“It’s wonderful that you’re dating.”Mom clasped Alice’s hand in both of hers.Her eyes were watering again.She and Ollie had the same eyes, a lighter brown than Jay’s but equally soft and deep.“You missed out on so much of that in high school, looking after your sister.Jay must be special if you’ve introduced him to her.”

“He is, yeah.He’s—” Nope, not ready to go there yet.Her ring burned a hole through her dress jeans, the pristine ones she’d brought for wearing under coveralls on the factory floor.Felt like it was leaving a brand against her thigh right this second, a tiny circlet ofliar, liarfor denying her husbands.“He’s great.And you made great choices.”

Her brain was as broken as the manufacturer’s machinery had been until this morning.Maybe a hard reset would throw out a word other thangreat.She pointed vaguely through the arch into the dining room.“Two trees this year?”

“Oh, no, no big tree, not this year.”Mom’s smile faded into the brittle one she used to tell all the nosy Nellies at the grocery store that their family was doing just fine.“Too much of a hassle.Your dad says it takes up too much room, makes it hard to get around.So I just have the little one in there.”

The tightness in Alice’s cheeks meant her own smile had grown into the same stretched politeness.This was not the moment to shout about how people were allowed to take up room in their own home.How it was Mom’s house too, and if she wanted a big tree, she should stand up and fucking do it.“You must have a lot of ornaments left over.”

Mom’s shoulders relaxed.“I do, so many, my goodness.It’s a mess downstairs.I couldn’t stop myself once I got started going through the boxes.”

“We put up a tree, but it’s not personalized yet.Themed ornaments until we get some of our own.”And now she’d confirmed, if Mom didn’t already know from Ollie, that she was living with someone.She curled her hand and scratched furrows into her jeans.

Henry had called their decorations this year a starting point, something they would make their own in the years to come.Theyears to comepart made her chest ache, a strange yearning for a thing she hadn’t known she’d wanted.The house mostly bowed to Henry’s aesthetic, but then he was the only one who’d really made a home before.She and Jay had cruised through on post-college thrift-store chic, never adding anything that couldn’t be abandoned.Henry had cultivated a gorgeous home.But she and Jay should be expanding their presence in it, not just in their special bedroom shrine.

“Could I see—”

“Oh, you should take them back with you!”Mom’s whisper crackled; her eyes sparkled.She tugged at Alice’s arm as she pushed her chair back.“Let’s go look.”

Downstairs would be farther from the threat of waking Dad.She got up from the kitchen table.“Just a few, though.They have to fit in my carry-on bag.”

“Don’t be such a worrier.C’mon, now.”Mom opened the door to the basement and flipped the light switch, leading the way down the stairs.“Oh, I’m so excited.Neither of you girls has started a home yet.These can be your first pieces.”

The Christmas totes filled the space between the rec room couch and the little TV.Alice sank into her end of the couch.The other was Ollie’s; they’d spent hours down here doing homework and arguing over the remote and trying to make the TV just loud enough to drown out the angry voices upstairs without attracting attention.

“Do you remember this one?”Mom passed her an ornament, and that started a story about Ollie and the infamous cinnamon gummy bear, and pretty soon they were both laughing so hard their sides protested.

Two familiar felted Advent calendars unrolled like ancient scrolls, soft beneath Alice’s fingers.Mom had sewed them special for her girls, the little pockets reused year after year for tiny treasures.Marking the days had made the wait bearable, turned Christmas into something they could see and count.Hopefully Henry’s activities were doing the same for Jay.He hadn’t said last night what the day’s adventure had been, and she’d forgotten to ask.Henry had done so much work to show them how much he cared.It wasn’t fair the way his plans had gotten spoiled.

The ornaments went back and forth, from hand to hand, and Alice amassed a small collection of keepsakes.The little sled with its red runners and real rope for hanging matched the one she’d used as a kid.Mom and Dad—Santa, technically—had wrapped the ornament version for under the tree and sent her running out to the garage in footie pj’s to find the real thing with its shiny bow.The glossy dark bay horse with a white blaze had come from her aunt and uncle along with the promise of a summer on the ranch.

Digging in a tote, she gingerly lifted a handmade ornament.She didn’t remember making it, or being in the photo, but she’d hung it on the tree every year without fail.Popsicle sticks formed a backing and a frame, and red construction paper with gobs of dried glue showing through the silver glitter and white cotton balls formed the background.But at the center rested a photo of Alice and Ollie—Ollie’s first Christmas, the two of them in front of the tree.Three-year-old Alice sat so carefully, her big eyes looking straight at the camera, her baby sister cradled in her arms.Underneath, in her fat-marker preschool scrawl, she’d writtenBig Sister.

She added that one to the favorites pile.Mom came up with a little shoebox for her to carry them in.If they didn’t fit in her bag, she could always jettison a sweater or two.

“Ughhh.”Mom scraped the bottom of a plastic tote and stretched on her way up, resting a hand against her back.“Oh my goodness, it’s after four.I’ll have to get ready for work soon.Late shift tonight.Don’t get old, honey.”

“I’ll do my best.”The rec room was even more of a disaster area than when they’d started.But she’d smiled with her mom more than she could remember since sixth grade.Scooching over, pushing the unchosen ornaments aside, she reached for a hug.“This was fun.Thanks for going through these with me.”

This time her body recalled how hugs worked.She cozied into Mom’s embrace and squeezed gently, in case Mom really had tweaked her back from bending over the totes.She was bigger than Mom, had been probably since she was fourteen.Nothing could reset the clock to before Dad’s accident and make her feel like Mom’s little girl again.But she could try being friends.

I’m glad I didn’t drive past without stoppingseemed like the wrong thing to say.“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Allie.”Kisses dotted her cheek, with a big smacking kiss on her temple the last.“I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“Lori!”

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