Page 9 of The Jellybean Dilemma

So I’d made everyone a lanyard keychain, learning how to do intricate braids with the strips of plastic. My fingers cramped from all the weaving, and I meticulously found each of my family members’ favorite colors. I passed out the little wrapped boxes, then had everyone open them at the same time. Their confused, dismayed expressions punched another hole in my stomach.

My parents decided to stay late with Grandma, so Greg drove me and Derek home. Derek’s big gift was a new smart watch, and he focused on setting it up the entire way while I stewed. The limo just came to a stop before he raced into the house.

I hadn’t given Greg his present yet and when he started to get out, I said, “Greg, wait.” Then I handed him the box wrapped in shiny green paper.

I’d made him a lanyard too, with two shades of his favorite color—blue. As he peeled off the paper, I felt stupider by the second. No one else liked my gifts. Why would he?

He lifted the lid, and a smile tipped his lips as he lifted out the lanyard keychain. “Rhonda, did you make this?”

I stared down at the seat. “Yeah. Papa collected keychains, and I wanted everyone to have one to remember him by. Sorry. I know it’s stupid.”

“No.” His firm tone had me looking up. He shook his head, kindness in his gaze. “No one has ever made me a gift before. This is special, not stupid. Thank you.”

His grateful reaction caught me off guard and my throat thickened, but I managed to nod. He set the keychain back in the box, then stepped out to open my door. Massive snowflakes drifted down to cover the cement, and my shiny black shoes contrasted perfectly with the pristine snow as I slipped my hand into his gloved one.

I stood up, careful with my movements in my heels. Once I was confident in my stance, I grinned up at him. “Merry Christmas, Greg.”

He removed his other hand from behind his back and presented me with a cellophane bag of multi-colored jellybeans tied with a lopsided red ribbon. “Merry Christmas, Rhonda.”

My bottom lip quivered as I stared at the gift, disbelief coursing through me. Overwhelmed by the more than thoughtful surprise, I threw my arms around his waist, burying my face in his uniform and soaking it with my tears. Greg had awkwardly patted my back, murmuring soothing noises until at last I calmed down.

With a sniff and a step backward, I straightened my shoulders. “Thank you, Just Greg. Now it feels like Christmas.” I managed a watery smile before I took my jellybeans up to my room, and I savored them for weeks to come.

My nickname had started soon after that, when he’d caught me snitching jellybeans out of my pocket.

The elevator door dinged, startling me out of my reverie.

As I walked across the lobby, I marveled at the stable presence Greg had been throughout my life. I’d always been able to count on him. My parents might show up for my science fair, dance recital or other events, but I always knew Greg would be there. He had always been someone I looked up to.

Growing up, I’d had my share of boyfriends. The summer after I graduated high school was when I actually noticed Greg, when I began wanting him as more than an employee. So many guys saw me as a dollar sign or arm candy, a stepping stone for prestige, or a trophy for their collection. Greg never made me feel that way, and he became my ideal.

Which is why I’d leapt at this chance to go on this trip with him.

I smiled when the doorman opened the door for me. Nerves tangled in my stomach, and I wondered just what Greg would think of me in this outfit. I took a deep breath, lifting my chin and squaring my shoulders.

Greg leaned against the car, not noticing me until I cleared my throat. His eyebrows shot up.

“Hot stuff, aren’t I?”

To my disappointment, he didn’t respond to my teasing. Instead, he asked, “All set? Did everything fit okay?”

Hiding my disappointment at his lack of reaction, I nodded. “The boots are a little big, but they’ll do.” Awkward silence descended again as he hit the trunk button, and I threw my bag in.

He opened the door wide as he grinned. “Your chariot, madam.”

The familiar pose paired with his thoughtfulness eased some of the tension within me. “Thank you.” My smile was genuine as I climbed in.

Greg slid into the driver’s seat and began his familiar routine. Each time he sat behind the wheel, he went through the same motion. Sit, right hand on wheel, feet in, close door, left hand on wheel. Keys in ignition, start car. Rearview, check. Gas, check. Steering column, seat proper, side mirrors, seatbelt. Then he’d adjust his gloves and go.

When he reached for his non-existent gloves, I giggled. “Is something missing?”

His cheeks tinged pink as he cleared his throat.

I gave him an out, noticing the cups in the console. “What’d you get me from the coffee shop?”

“Oh, right.” He put the car in park again and grabbed a bag from the back seat. “They had breakfast sandwiches, too. I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten anything. I know you like ham and egg whites, so I had them make you one special.”

He ordered me a special sandwich?

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