Page 33 of Big Pitch Energy

Once the dishes were done, Liz declared it was time for presents. We moved to the living room where the tree stood in the corner, its colored lights blinking softly. Sam had told me that he and his mom don’t spend a lot on Christmas presents, they give meaningful gifts tailored to the person. I love that. It fits my vibe perfectly.

“Since you’re our guest, you get to open the first gift,” Liz said, handing me a box.

“Ooh, this is heavy.”

I removed the bow and set it aside, then carefully unwrapped the festive paper. A set of scented candles and essential oils were nestled into a wooden keepsake box. I opened one of the candles and breathed in deeply. The sweet musky scent of clary sage mingled perfectly with a bright, zesty burst of orange.

“This smells amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I got the box at an auction in Wilmington. I know you love repurposing items and I think it will be nice to store things in.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, running my hand along the weathered edge.

“You’re next, Sammy,” Liz said as she handed him a box.

Sam opened the box and peeled back the green tissue paper to reveal a trinket bowl and coaster set.

“I made them in a pottery class I took,” Liz said with a laugh. “They were supposed to be matching, but the bowl had other ideas.”

“They’re awesome. Thank you.”

Sam handed Liz three packages. The first one held a custom puzzle depicting a picture of the two of him after his first Major League start. The next a personalized calendar filled with family photos and marked with all the important dates. Liz was thrilled to see the Carolina Waves schedule listed as well. And the third held a hand-sewn leather journal, its rich brown cover embossed with Liz’s initials. Her eyes softened as she ran her fingers over it, clearly touched by the thought behind each gift.

I gave Sam his gift from me next.

He reached into the bag and pulled out the afghan I crocheted. I watched him run his fingertips over the soft, mingled colors—blue, yellow, gray, and white—representing his high school, college, and the Carolina Waves.

He looked up at me and asked, “Did you make this for me?”

“I did.”

“I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Before I could get too emotional over the fact that instead of setting it aside, he rested it on his lap, I handed Liz her gift. I’d made her a tote bag from an upcycled denim jacket and floral fabric I found in a thrift store. With the extra fabric, I was able to make her two matching eyeglass cases.

“This is lovely, Hope.” She slung it over her shoulder. “And so my style.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

When I opened Sam’s gift to me, I froze. Inside the small box was a delicate silver bracelet. Tiny compass points were spaced along the chain, each one echoing the design of the necklace I wear almost every day.

“Sam, it’s beautiful.” I whispered, brushing my fingers over the intricate metalwork. “Where did you get this? It matches my necklace perfectly.”

He gave me a small smile, then said, “I had it made.”

“You had this made?”

“I took a picture of your necklace to an artisan jeweler in Wilmington who does custom pieces. She sketched a few options, but this one felt the most like you.”

I turned the bracelet over in my hand, still stunned. The little compass charms glinted in the light, their details so precise they could’ve been plucked right off my necklace.

“It’s perfect,” I said, and I meant it.

Not just because it’s beautiful, but because it washim. Thoughtful. Steady. A little sentimental, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

I was still collecting myself when Liz stood.

---