Page 40 of Over and Above

“And leave the cleanup?” Maren clomped into the kitchen, gait taking on that late pregnancy heaviness even with two months to go. “Typical.”

“You aren’t cleaning up.” I placed my hands on her slim shoulders to turn her back toward the living room. “You are going to go sit down and choose a movie.”

“If I sit down, I’ll fall asleep.” She yawned.

“Then nap.” Magnus arrived in the kitchen in time to order Maren to the basement, pointing at the door. “We’ve got this.”

At first, we had nominal help from Wren and Diesel. John left to go somewhere with Scotty, and the other guests had departed earlier, leaving mountains of leftovers to contend with. Wren, naturally, got sidetracked researching proper storage temperatures, and they escaped upstairs in short order. Then Diesel left to check on Maren, leaving me alone with Magnus.

Not that I was complaining. I let out a happy exhale. I loved having the house full, but I loved this quiet togetherness even more.

“How does it always come down to you and me and a pair of sponges?” I joked, happiness soaking my tone.

“I don’t know, but when you put it like that, I suddenly start craving a shower.” Magnus winked at me.

“Me too.” I cocked my head. The muffled sound of a TV filtered up from the basement. Upstairs, Wren appeared to be engaged in a highly scientific argument on the phone or computer chat. Sighing, I bumped shoulders with Magnus. “No showers anytime soon.”

“Hard cider and a movie?” Magnus suggested smoothly, already going to the fridge.

“It’s officially the holiday season.” I accepted a bottle from him, relieved that he also wasn’t ready to call it a night. “Something silly and seasonal?”

“Coming right up.” He grinned at me, and I was right back to wondering if it could be like this every year.

Chapter Twenty-One

Magnus

“I need a gift idea.” Diesel swept into The Heist on a bracing December afternoon. Thanks to dropping temperatures, the lunch rush had never fully materialized, and now we were decidedly in a pre-dinner lull where some staff ate while others rolled silverware in black linen napkins.

“You and me both.” I came around the bar to welcome him with a hug.

“Who do you need a gift for?” Diesel narrowed his eyes. The blue in his hair had faded to the color of the winter sky with dark roots, making him look older and wiser, some sort of snow wizard.

“Eric. The household.” I kept my tone vague. I probably shouldn’t have started this line of conversation. I’d been so happy to see Diesel for the rare daytime visit that I hadn’t thought through my commiseration, so I tried to choose my next words more carefully. “They’ve all gone over and above in helping out this year, but Eric especially. I should get him something.”

“Matching grandpa sweaters?” Diesel cackled before pulling out his phone. “Oh wait. I gotta suggest that idea to Maren.”

“No clothing.” I shuddered at the thought of a sweater, let alone an ugly holiday one. And the last thing I wanted was some sort of gag gift. “Something more…meaningful.”

Ideally, I needed something that could be opened in front of others. Diesel and I had been invited to join the family for Christmas, along with assorted other friends. After years of only Diesel and myself, having such a warm, welcoming group was unexpectedly wonderful. Indeed, my chest lifted every time I thought about Thanksgiving.

I would never look at a dessert brandy in the same light or watch the trio of holiday comedies Eric and I had indulged in without remembering his laugh. I expected Christmas to be more of the same because we were already discussing shared cooking duties. However, the added pressure of a gift for the holiday had me in as many knots as Diesel seemed to be himself.

“Meaningful.” Diesel rolled the word around in his mouth like it had a metallic taste. “See, that’s my problem too. Maren said she doesn’t want anything, but I think she’s trying to be nice because the baby needs so many things.”

“Yeah, you need to get her a present, but I know funds are tight.” I stretched, trying to think what a twenty-year-old mother-to-be might possibly want. “You’ll get a lot of baby gifts at the shower, so perhaps something small just for her?”

“Exactly.” Diesel nodded, stamping his boot-covered feet. His combat-style boots had seen him through Europe and the start of his present job and were battered—the leather decidedly thin and scuffed in places. He needed new ones, which, luckily, solved another gift dilemma for me, not that I’d reveal that brainstorm.

“Perfume? Bath products? A nice robe?” I suggested, but Diesel pulled a bored face.

“Maybe something other than what advertising wants us to buy for women?” Shaking his head, he made a frustrated noise. “The only ads that remotely get it right are jewelry.”

“Pricey.” I whistled low, not sure I agreed and also hoping he hadn’t come about a loan.

“Not always.” His cagey tone and nervous eyes had me decidedly on edge. “Which is why I was thinking… Your safe survived the fire, right?”

“Yes. Thank goodness.” I smiled more freely now that I had an idea of where this talk was headed. “You’re thinking of that envelope of jewelry we got from your maternal grandmother’s husband?”

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