Page 36 of Coming in Hot

“Mind you don’t break it,” she scolds good-naturedly.

I grab the gift I want her to open first—a new ornament—and hand it over before returning to the tree and digging around toward the back. “What’s this one?” I hold up a small, flat box that’s wrapped in red paper withHO HO HOprinted in white, not the Disney paper Minnie has used for all her gifts. “No tag.”

Minnie frowns. “Bring that here.”

I pass it to her. “Who’s it for?”

“It’s for you. But choose something else tonight.” She sets the little box aside and unwraps her own gift, a felted Highland cow with a Santa hat. “Could that be any more adorable?” she breathes, getting up to put it on the tree. “I absolutely love it.”

I stretch to grab the mystery box. “I wanna know what this is,” I tell her. “And who sent it.”Could it be Klaus? Is that possible?

She turns to face me, and the smile wilts from her face. She perches on the edge of the sofa, hands tangled in her lap. “I wanted to have a talk before giving that to you, but…” She shrugs, eyes troubled. “Maybe this is better.”

I remove the paper the same way Minnie does—gingerly, so it can be reused—and lift the lid. Beneath a layer of white tissue, a photograph stares up at me.

I’m seven years old, sitting on the hood of a dented and rusted Honda Accord, wearing lavender OshKosh overalls with a flowery thermal shirt, hair in two braids. My parents are on each side, leaning on the car.

Dad looks smirky, his arms folded. Hair rockstar long, grunge-era flannel, ripped jeans. He’s like Kurt Cobain’s more handsome brother. My mom is so similar to me it’s spooky. She’s biting her lower lip, flirting with the camera. They both look like they’re in a fashion shoot and a random kid happened to show up—there’s no sense they’re aware of my presence.

Unsurprising.

“I remember that car,” I say evenly, betraying nothing of my storm of emotions. “But not the people.” I put the top on the box. “I’ve never seen that one. Did they send it? They’re…alive?”

“Natty!” Auntie Min bursts out. “Good gracious, of course they’re alive. Why would you say such a morbid thing?”

I shrug as if I couldn’t care less, then attempt to hand the box to Minnie.

“There should be another picture in there.” She gently pushes my hand back.

My heart hammers. The news is flying at me like branches smacking me in the face during an out-of-control horseback ride with no reins.

They’re finally contacting me. Oh God…

I tip the lid off the box again, whipping the top photo aside to view the one beneath.

Whoa.

They’re in their fifties now, but unmistakable. Mom’s hair is in a bob and has a little silver, her makeup is subtle rather than kohl-eyed nineties drama, but… it’s her. Dad has some middle-aged spread and his hair is grayer than Mom’s, but he hasn’t changed it—still long, in a messy ponytail—and his face is the same.

His smile shows a peek of his teeth, and with a shock, I remember something I’d absolutely forgotten: He has a diagonal chip in the top left incisor. I don’t know why this affects me so much, but it’s more jolting than anything else—like a song you haven’t heard for decades, which ushers in the exact feeling of being a certain age.

My hands shake as I replace the lid and hand it back. Minnie sets it on the table.

“They’re, uh… still together, huh?” I ask.

“Yes. But that’s a long story—the circumstances.”

What the heck is that supposed to mean?

I reach for my cocoa, then set it back down. My stomach tumbles like a runaway barrel down a hill as I fight to integrate all this new information. “Did they have…”Oh God, I can barely get the words out.“Um, other kids?”

“Lordno, child,” Minnie says, a little shocked.

I keep my face impassive. “Well, the ‘Ho Ho Ho’ paper is fitting, because I’m waiting for the punchline.Whydid they send this?” I swallow hard. “I mean, now?”

Auntie Min scoots closer. “That’s why I got the new bed. Your daddy and mama are coming home. They’ll be living with me for a while to get on their feet.”

The barrel rolling inside me hits a wall and explodes into splinters.

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