Page 93 of Season of Gifts

Henry scraped cheesy eggs to one side of the pan and forklifted them with the spatula onto two plates.“You may go ahead, Jay.I daresay we’ll want to begin directly after breakfast.”

Warm and cheery, Henry at the stove—except for the talks hanging over their heads and Henry’s weirdness last night, this was a great morning.Jay slid his finger under the flap and eased the seal open.The cards and envelopes would have to make it back into his bag so they could take their spot in the room-check room at home.

“Activities like a family board game night, and having cocoa and s’mores on the deck in the snow, and strolling through the Christmas lights, Mother.”Alice spooned oatmeal into two bowls—one heaped high that was probably his, and one side-dish size for her—and set them on the counter.“Henry planned a whole month of holiday memories.It was a beautiful gift.So thoughtful, and so much effort.”

She pressed into Henry’s side, tipping her head against his shoulder.He side-hugged her with one arm, futzing with the stove controls with his other hand.The low hum of the overhead fan cut off as he kissed Alice’s hair.“I rather enjoyed the planning.I do apologize for the execution.”

“A month of—” Jagged crinkles spread out from Mom’s tight-pressed lips.She sighed through her nose.“And I ruined it.Henry, darling, why didn’t you tell me?I could have managed.”

Major overstatement.Sure, Mom seemed real good today, but she’d been in the hospital again like four days ago.Jay held the card half-in, half-out, the top edge of the sketch showing, his heart drumming just from the glimpse.Like a reset, before the month had gone sideways.“I’m glad Henry was here with you.Your heart attack was really scary, Mom.For you, I bet, but for us, too.It wasn’t even a week after Mrs.Eickhoff’s.”

“Mrs.Eickhoff?”Mom laid her fingers over his wrist, her touch chilly but comforting.“Is that a neighbor?”

“No, she’s a client—she was a client.”The words still tripped him up sometimes.No present, no future, just a past they hadn’t even held a memorial for.“I delivered her groceries every Tuesday until—”

A plate of eggs slid in front of him; Henry’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed, firm and reassuring.“We needn’t get into that now.Why don’t you read the card aloud for us, Jay?”

“Actually—” Alice set the bowl of oatmeal beside his plate and plucked the card from the envelope in his hand.She offered it in front of his face, the whole sketch so close he almost went cross-eyed taking in the details.“Why don’t you read it, Henry?So we can hear it in the proper voice.”

Jay’s shoulders widened on instinct, his back straightening, his feet settling flat on the floor in front of his chair.That was Alice’shave you done your homeworktone.Only she wasn’t aiming it at him.

Chapter forty-eight

Alice

PanicclimbedAlice’sthroat,and she shoved a flap over it and stuffed it down like an overfilled duffel bag.Challenging Henry hadn’t been her intent.But something had to goad him out of this autopilot he was on.

He’d without a doubt stomped on Jay’s grief, and that was not okay.Not even a little bit.

Green eyes narrowed.His expression otherwise inscrutable, Henry tugged the card from her hand.“Certainly, if you’d like.”

“I think we’d all like that.”She smoothed Jay’s hair to hide her shaking fingers.He’d laid the truth bare like he always did—Mother’s heart attack was fucking scary.Alice knew all about running from fear.Henry and Jay had gotten her to turn and face her fears.If she did less for Henry when he had to be crammed full of terror, she didn’t deserve to be his wife.“And then we can see where the day takes us.”

He raised the card between his fingers.She hadn’t even glanced at the sketch, and now it hung upside down before her.

“My dearest loves.”One green eye spied her around the side of the fancy speckled paper.“We began this month seeking a bright green gem to serve as the heart of our home this holiday season.That repository for our hopes and dreams carries them forward into the new year.Now we gather in another home, one that I hope will also come to feel as dear to your hearts.Let us go out and bring in the green, set our wishes upon the star, and fill the house with laughter and song.”

His sweet baritone washed through her, soothing in its familiarity, blunting the edges of her determination.Her fingers slipped from Jay’s hair and rested atop Henry’s hand on his shoulder.She curled around his knuckles, squeezing as she swallowed hard.The numb, distracted man from last night might lie just below the surface, and she couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t return.She’d grown up trying to tiptoe around her father’s moods.Her marriage couldn’t be allowed to become a mirror of her parents’.

“Oh, that’s lovely, just lovely.”Mother reached past her.“May I?Is that the piano?”Henry relinquished the card, and Mother flipped the front down, turning the sketch right-side-up.“And you’ve nestled the tree into the curve beautifully.”She tapped the edge, her nails slightly ragged, and angled the sketch toward Alice and Jay.“That’s the way we’ve always done it, since Henry’s father and I married and moved in here.More than fifty years.”

Henry had drawn a corner of the music room—the tree set between the grand piano and the front window, with frost on the pane and a candle on the sill.Looking at the sketch was like stepping into an old-timey Christmas.They could have that bubble of happiness tonight.Alice just had to confess her sins of omission to Henry while also getting him to understand he didn’t have to do everything himself.No pressure.“It’s the perfect choice for today.Thank you, Henry.”

Jay echoed her thanks, tipping his head back, his hair tickling her hand.“We’ll pick out the best tree, promise.”

“I’ve no doubt you will.”Henry eased his hand free of Alice’s grip and returned to the stove, where he scooped up her plate and bowl.“A festive day awaits, but only after we’ve all eaten.”

Humming a fast, light carol, Mother spooned up a bit of oatmeal.“Yes, we do need a little Christmas to brighten the house.We’ll have to bundle up afterward if we mean to fell a tree.”Chasing a cranberry around the bowl, she finally landed it.“When I was a girl, my father would choose one from our woods.We’ll have to go farther afield, of course, but that will leave us plenty of time to tell stories in the car.Jay, perhaps you can tell me more about your Mrs.Eickhoff.”

Bending close, Alice pressed a kiss to Jay’s forehead.She squeezed both of his shoulders.“You told us some wonderful stories on our cocoa night.You could share those with Mother.Maybe we could bake something in Mrs.Eickhoff’s honor tomorrow?”

“Oooh, what a delightful thought.Was she a baker?Did she know what an excellent taste-tester you are, Jay?”Mother was everything Henry wasn’t right now—interested, questioning, leaning toward Jay and smiling gently.

“She baked so many things, you wouldn’t believe.Something new every week.”Jay stirred fruit and sugar into his oatmeal, and Alice left him to it, taking the place Henry had set for her.Eyes gleaming, Jay basked in Mother’s attention.He cupped one hand beside his mouth, blocking Alice’s view, and dropped into a stage whisper.“Most Tuesdays I had dessert with her before I met Alice for lunch.Don’t tell Alice!”

Mother mimed twisting a key at her lips.“Not a word.We sweets lovers must stick together.Henry is far less susceptible to the lure of dessert.He and his brother both get that from their father.”

Standing behind his chair, Henry raised an eyebrow at his mother.“Less sugar would be preferable, but perhaps Alice and Jay will stumble upon doughnuts during their tree search today.We sampled a surfeit of treats on our excursion earlier this month.”

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