Page 69 of Minted

“Just getting in,” I say. “I took Lucky for a walk.”

“Oh.” She nods. “Great.”

“She is a border collie,” Ricki says. “Told you.”

“Actually, I said I wasn’t sure,” Barbara says. “And then I kept forgetting to ask Bentley what kind of dog she is.”

“Border collie’s right,” I say. “And be prepared.” She’s already wagging her tail nub like she’s preparing to launch. “She likes to jump up, and she loves to lick people right on the face.”

“Bring it,” Ricki says. “I like all of that.”

“Dog energy is good energy,” Nikki says.

Barbara holds out her hands, and I realize she brought something.

“What’s this?” I ask as I take it from her. With the saran wrap on top, it’s hard to really see what’s on the tray.

“It’s a cheeseball,” she says. “Mom always made one, and since she always did it, I’m not quite as good as her, and I know you said I didn’t need to bring—” She’s taking her coat off, and she freezes. Her eyes are locked on the dining room table and the server buffet where all the appetizers and desserts are laid out.

“Oh, that?” I shrug. “That’s just stuff from the caterers. I don’t really cook, so Seren made me a recommendation, but I’m super excited for this cheeseball.” I start unwrapping it, and I set it down next to the spinach and artichoke dip and stuffed mushrooms. “Plus, these crackers are my favorite.” I sniff. “They’re the sun-roasted tomato Wheat Thins, right?”

Barbara nods absently, still looking at the cheeseball with a wistful expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“It looks funny next to all that stuff,” Nikki says. “It’s all wonky and misshapen, and she didn’t cut the pecans right.”

Now that she points it out, I notice what she means. The crackers are all bunched up on one side, whereas the crackers next to the artichoke dip are artfully splayed. The cheeseball is a little lumpy looking, and it’s more noticeable next to the perfection of the catered, professionally prepared food.

“Who cares about that?” I ask. “I’m a guy. All I care about is how it tastes.”

But Barbara has already snatched the saran wrap out of my hand and she’s trying to wrap the cheeseball back up. “Let’s just stick it in the fridge. I can take it home when we go and eat it later.”

I take it from her. “No. You brought that for me, and I want my cheeseball. Leave it alone. No takebacks.”

“What, are you twelve?” She glares at me for a moment, but then she turns to face the girls. “There’s a coat closet right here.”

“That’s pretty fancy,” Nikki says. “At home we just pile them on the—”

“And here are the gifts.” Ricki thrusts a bag at me.

“Hey,” I say. “I thought we agreed that I’d give you guys stuff, but you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Yeah, that was a nice idea,” Barbara says. “But there was never a chance we were going to let you provide dinner, the venue, and gifts and not give you something.”

“Well, thank you.” I carefully take four gifts out of the bag and place them next to the rest of mine under the tree.

“Wow,” Ricki says. “Your gifts all look amazing.” Her eyes are round, and I try to see it like she must. My tree this year is all silver and gold, perfectly decorated, and the gifts underneath it are wrapped in matching, coordinated paper. Gold. Patterned gold. Silver. Patterned silver. And two prints that have both.

“Yeah, the thing is, my office manager found someone who does decor and stuff, and she just. . .” I shrug. “Does it all.”

“That’s amazing.” Nikki’s digging her toe into the carpet. “I wrapped mine, so it’s really ugly. Sorry.”

I glance at the gifts I just set down, and I notice that they’re all in different paper. One is red, with the ends bunched up. One is green, and whoever wrapped that used way too much tape. The other two are silver and gold, and green and red. They were clearly wrapped by Barbara, but even with their adorable bows, they don’t look professional.

“Your presents look way better than all of mine,” I say. “Because they look personal. They were wrapped by you.”

But no one speaks as we walk into the dining room. “I’m assuming you guys are hungry,” I say. “Because I’m starving.”

---