Page 12 of Better Than the Beach
“Damn it,” Nan grumbles, and I rush toward the sound, smacking straight into Nolan on the way.
He grips my waist to keep me from falling, and he says, “excuse me,” just as I blurt, “sorry!” We stand there, his hands on my body, burning into my skin, and our eyes locked, until another sound of distress causes us to break apart.
We step into the sitting room to find Nan surrounded by boxes and wrapping paper. On one side of the room, the boxes seem to be filled with wrapped gifts, and on the other, the boxes are full of unwrapped items. Toys, mostly, but I see some clothing and books, too.
“What’s all this?” I ask, and Nan looks up from where she’s sorting through the contents of a box that’s tipped over.
“Just in time,” she says with a grin. “I need some extra hands.”
Nolan chuckles and walks to his mother’s side, taking a box of little plastic building bricks from her.
“’Tis the season of Saint Nanta Claus,” he says, flashing me a smirk that makes my
stomach jump before looking back at Nan.
“Nanta Claus?” I say, stepping up to the box and peering inside. “What’s a
Nanta Claus?”
“Me, of course,” Nan says with a wry grin.
“Every year,” Nolan explains, “Ma works with the local businesses to coordinate a holiday gift drive. She’s been doing it since before I was born. At some point along the way, someone called herNanta Claus, and it’s stuck.”
Nolan grabs a tube of wrapping paper and takes a seat on the floor, gesturing for me to grab a toy from the box and join him.
“The gift drive is a holiday tradition for the town. The local businesses help all November, collecting donations or taking small gift requests for families in need. When I was younger, my brothers and I would make the rounds and collect the donations, then ol’ Nanta Claus here would put us to work sorting, wrapping, and checking off items on her giant list. And on Christmas Eve, we’d deliver the gifts.”
“That’s so fun,” I say, beaming at Nan from my spot on the floor. She sends me a wink.
“Can’t do it without my little elves, though,” she jokes, making Nolan grin as he expertly wraps a remote-control car with practiced ease.
“I didn’t know you were still doing this,” he says, placing the perfectly wrapped toy to
the side and moving to another.
“Well, you haven’t been around much the last few Christmases,” Nan says plainly, and I watch as Nolan’s brow furrows. He flicks his eyes from his mother back to the gift in his hands.
“Who’s been helping you?”
“Your brothers. Mallory and Patrick. The neighbors.” Nan smiles, handing me another toy to wrap. “Your brother Craig brought the last round of donation boxes to me on the snowmobile last night, and now I have two extra sets of hands for wrapping. It’s never hard to find help when it comes to spreading holiday joy.”
“Well, I for one am eager to assist,” I say honestly. “I think this sounds like a wonderful tradition.”
“And who knows, you might enjoy it so much that you decide to stay and help us on Christmas Eve. We’ve done it a little differently in recent years. Everyone in town comes to the community center to celebrate together and that’s how we distribute the gifts. Perhaps you’d like to help,” Nan says, and I huff out a laugh.
“Well, I don’t know about that. That sounds fun, but sandy beaches and saltwater are still calling my name. All I want for Christmas this year is a tan.”
Nan hums, but doesn’t say anything else, and for a few moments, we work in comfortable silence. The only sounds are the Christmas music playing on the stereo and the rustling of gift wrap as we fashion each gift with colorful paper and a shiny red bow.
“Do you have any holiday traditions, Cassandra?”
Nolan’s deep voice cuts through the silence and goosebumps prickle my arms and neck. His voice is like crushed black velvet. Like rich chocolate mousse. Bold and smooth and utterly indulgent. I inhale slowly and clear my throat before answering, but my voice still sounds quivering and weak in comparison.
“Well, my family always decorates the Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving, and on Christmas Eve, we watchIt’s A Wonderful Life.” I finish wrapping the toy in front of me and reach for another. It’s a board game, and I smile at it. “When I was younger, I used to make ornaments for my grandma. Every year, it was something different. Snowmen made of felt and cardboard. Plastic bulbs filled with confetti and construction paper snowflakes. Always something new. I stopped doing it once I got to high school.”
“Do you get to see your grandmother often now that you’re in college?”
I shake my head no at Nolan’s question, then glance at him. When our eyes meet, I can tell he sees the sorrow in mine.
