Page 75 of All's Fair in Love and Christmas
He pushes the hair that’s fallen into his face out of his eyes. “You too.”
Natalie bounds down the stairs. She looks up from her phone and her face brightens. “Mackenzie, you’re here. Do you think you can show me how to French braid again? I still can’t get it.”
“Sure.”
A couple emerges from the other side of the wall the fireplace is on. He’s balding on top, and she has an elf apron tied aroundan ample waist. They both have open and welcoming faces that help me lay aside at least some of my nervousness.
“I’m Tracie, and this is my husband, Albert.” Jeremy’s mom hooks her arm through his dad’s. “Welcome to our home. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Fletcher. You have a lovely home.”
She waves her hand in the air like she’s swatting away a pesky fly. “None of thatMrs. Fletchernonsense. I’m Tracie, and that’s Albert.”
“Is the food ready yet, Grandma?” Nathan asks. “I’m starving.”
“Can I help with anything?” I offer. Having a job to do and keeping my hands busy helps me not feel awkward. Especially when the alternative is sitting around a table as a part of the inner circle instead of just outside. Whether the expectation for me to join in conversation is there or not, I still feel the pressure. Maybe something I should bring up with my therapist next time I see her.
“Can you bring in that tray of rolls?” Tracie leads me into the kitchen and indicates a platter of rolls arranged to look like a Christmas tree. Parmesan is sprinkled on top as well as fresh green herbs. The smell of yeast and cheese fills my nostrils and makes my belly growl.
I carry the tray to the table and place it on the cream table runner with gold reindeer. The candles standing amid the woodland berry centerpiece flicker and add to the warm family ambience. There’s roasted red potatoes, a shredded brussels sprout and pomegranate salad, and thick slices of perfectly cooked prime rib roast.
“Everything looks delicious,” I say as I take a seat next to Jeremy.
“Thank you.” Tracie looks pleased with herself. She turns to her husband. “Albert, will you bless the food for us, please?”
He not only prays for the food but says a blessing over eachperson at the table, including me. Jeremy reaches over and squeezes my knee.
“Amen,” we all chorus. Dishes are passed. Plates are filled. Laughter and merriment flow like molasses at a gingerbread factory.
“Is it time to open presents now?” Nathan asks after the last bite of peppermint bark has been eaten and the last sip of eggnog has been drunk.
“I, um,” I start. Then stop. Then start again. “I’d like to give you all my present first, if that’s all right. It’s something small and kind of silly. A game, really, that originated in Germany, but my mom and I played it every year.” I look around at the faces watching me. “If that’s okay?” I end weakly.
“A game sounds like fun.” Tracie rubs her hands together.
Nathan groans.
“Now you’ve done it.” The words sound negative, but Albert’s shoulders shake in amusement, and he’s smiling.
I look to Jeremy, hoping to get a read on if I said something wrong or not.
He’s grinning. “My mom is super competitive.”
“How do you play the game?” Natalie asks.
I look at everyone again to make sure no one is really upset before I continue. “How you play is literally in the name of the game—Hide the Pickle. Although instead of a real pickle, I brought a pickle ornament. I’ll hide it in the Christmas tree, and whoever finds it gets a special present.”
“That sounds like fun,” Albert says.
Tracie gives him a mock glower. “You couldn’t find something if it jumped up and yelled, ‘I’m right here!’”
Natalie giggles.
“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Albert rises to the challenge.
I stand. “I’ll go hide it, then call you when it’s ready.”
Jeremy stands too. “I’ll go with you.” He follows me to the living room. “I love that we’re blending our families’ holidaytraditions,” he says as I take the green metal pickle out of the box.
