Page 28 of Wrapped Up with the Three Scrooges

“I’m so sorry.” Unlike most people who offered empty platitudes, she actually sounded like she meant it. “Were they the ones who made Christmas special?”

I nodded, surprised that I wanted to share more. “My grandmother would hang stockings for each of us every year and spend the entire week baking. The whole house smelled like gingerbread and cinnamon. My grandfather...” I swallowed hard, the memory both sweet and painful. “He’d make us each an ornament every year, and we’d get to hang it on the tree.”

“They sound wonderful.” Her hand twitched on the table like she wanted to reach for mine, but she held back.

“They were.” I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the melancholy. “After they died, my parents and aunts and uncles were too busy to bother with traditions. They said we were too old for that stuff.” The bitterness in my voice surprised even me.

“That must have been hard.” Her eyes were soft with understanding.

“What about you?” I was desperate to change the subject. “Going to your parents?”

She laughed, but it held no humor. “Unless I sprout wings and learn to fly across the Atlantic, no. My parents live in Portugal, and my budget currently stretches to about as far as the corner store. And that’s if I’m feeling extravagant.” She traced a pattern on the table with her finger, not meeting my eyes. “Besides, they aren’t the nicest people in the world. Think ice sculptures with better fashion sense. I was honestly a bit relieved when they moved so far away.”

“Portugal?” Something about her casual mention of her parents’ coldness stirred an uncomfortable feeling in my gut.

Maybe because I sometimes felt like an ice sculpture.

“They had me a little later in life and retired right after I finished college. They said they were tired of the rat race.” She shrugged, picking at her food. “I try to visit them during the holidays when I can, but... well, this year has been complicated.”

Something in her tone made me think that was an understatement. I remembered her panic when I’d threatened to call her previous employer, and what Levi had told me.

“So, you’ll be alone?” The thought bothered me more than it should have.

“Hey, being alone is underrated.” She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “No one to judge you for eating Christmas cookies for breakfast or watching cheesy holiday movies in your pajamas all day.”

The image of her spending Christmas alone in a motel room made my chest tight. “You could join us.”

She dropped her fork. “What?”

“For Christmas. With me, Max, and Levi,” I rushed on before I could second-guess myself. “No pressure.”

The smile that spread across her face was like watching the sun rise. “I’d like that if they’re okay with it.”

I knew they would be.

We finished our food, trading comfortable silence punctuated by her occasional happy noises when she tried something particularly good. Each little hum of pleasure sent an unexpected warmth through me, and I’d watched her more than my own plate.

“I’m going to use the restroom and then we can go.” She stood, grabbing the trash.

An idea popped in my head. “I’ll wait here.” I tried to sound casual.

The moment she disappeared into the crowd, I was on my feet, weaving through the mass of people back to the ornament stall. The ornament she’d admired earlier still hung there, and I examined it closer. Just like she’d said, the tiny details were extraordinary.

“Beautiful piece, isn’t it?” The vendor smiled knowingly. “Your girlfriend seemed quite taken with it earlier.”

“She’s not-” I started to correct her, then stopped. What was the point? “Yes, she did. I’ll take it.”

As the woman carefully wrapped the ornament in tissue paper and placed it in a box, my mind wandered to how Emery’s face would light up when she opened it.

“Would you like me to add a personalized message?” The vendor pulled out a calligraphy pen and a card.

I hesitated. What could I possibly write that wouldn’t give away too much? That wouldn’t reveal how much her simple joy had started to crack the ice I’d built around myself?

“If you could please write ‘To Emery, may your holidays be filled with magic.’” It was sappy as hell, but something told me she’d appreciate the sentiment.

The vendor’s knowing smile widened as she penned the message in elegant script. “Sometimes the best gifts are the onesthat show we’re paying attention.” She secured the box with a red ribbon.

I paid and took the gift as I spotted Emery making her way back through the crowd. I met her back at the table, trying to pretend I hadn’t been up to something.

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