He Said, he said Volume 3

January 2021

That Wednesday, we were wrapping gifts for other people, those that would be delivered or picked up, and as I walked by the table, my eye was drawn to something Hannah had just finished with.

It was, without question, one of the most beautifully wrapped gifts I’d ever seen.

Even by professional wrapping standards, it was impressive.

Added to that, Hannah had curled the ribbon into intricate swirls of color and had used her hot glue gun to stick tiny iridescent snowflakes to the heavy silver and gold paper.

The word masterpiece could easily be used.

All day long, she had been insisting we call her “The Ribbonier,” as in master of all things ribbon related.

Kola wrapped as he did, basically using a straight-edge—no scissors needed—and double-sided tape, making sure that the seams and any prints on the paper were perfectly aligned, and that there was no tape visible anywhere to the naked eye.

He then passed it to his sister, who added the appropriate ribbon to zhuzh it and make it pop.

It was quite the production. This one, though, was obviously special.

“Who is this for?” I asked her, picking it up and realizing how weighty it was.

“It’s for George,” she told me, and Jake, who was sitting across the table from them, tying jute around individual bunches of mistletoe, looked over at her. His eyes got big, but bless his clearly pounding heart, he said nothing.

“Oh yeah?” I questioned, going for nonchalant even though I was ridiculously interested. “What did you get him?”

It took a second for my words to filter through because she was paying such close attention to the present she was curling ribbon for next.

“Oh no, no,” she countered, lifting her head to smile at me. “I meant that I got it for George to give to Cynthia.”

Wait. “Who’s Cynthia?”

“Cyn,” she corrected.

“Who’s Cyn?” I asked her.

She squinted at me. “She’s George’s girlfriend, the one I made the big candle for that George took with him on my birthday.”

I needed to roll back several weeks of my life. “That candle wasn’t for George?”

She scoffed. Loudly. “You thought I made George a special candle?”

“Well, yes,” I informed her, glancing at Jake, who was basically holding his breath.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you care for George.”

“I do care for him, which is why I got him a game for his PS5,” she explained, as though that should have been obvious. “I mean, Pa, giving George a candle would be like giving Dad a candle,” she informed me, making a noise of disgust. “It would be a complete and utter waste.”

Jake cleared his throat. “So when did you meet George’s girlfriend?”

“Oh!” She warmed to this topic, her eyes sparkling. “When they met.”

“Which was when?” I pressed her.

“In July, at the benefit Uncle Aaron and I did at the Art Institute for the Expressions of Love exhibit. It was very romantic.” She sighed deeply. “Cyn, she’s a curator there, and she tripped and would have fallen down the stairs, but George caught her.”

“That does sound romantic,” I replied, smiling at the besotted look on her face.

“It was,” she assured me. “One second she was flying through the air, and the next, she was in George’s arms.”

Jake was grinning at her. “Like a movie, right?”

She turned to him. “Jake, you should have seen it. Cyn had her arm around George’s neck, and she turned bright red, and George put her down super gently, and they just sort of stared at each other,” she told us breathlessly.

“And when Cyn thanked him and was going to leave, George caught her arm to make sure she was all right, and Cyn did this amazing thing and pulled out her phone and told him that maybe he should get her number so he could check on her throughout the night.”

I chuckled.

“Right?” she said, eyebrows lifted, nodding. “That’s some quick thinking.”

“And then when you guys were leaving?” I wanted to hear more.

“She came and thanked him again and held his hand”—she sighed deeply—“and they’ve been dating ever since.”

Jake cleared his throat. “So George is straight?” he asked nonchalantly, not fooling me one bit. He’d been hoping George had a boyfriend.

Hannah turned to him. “I think he’s bi, because I’ve snooped in his file in Uncle Aaron’s office, and there is mention of women as well as men in his past.”

“For starters, that should not be in a personnel file,” I scolded, scowling. “How is that anyone’s business at Sutter?”

“I––”

“And for two, you snooped?” I was trying to stare a hole through her. “Hannah Kage.”

“Yes,” she confessed, “and I know it was naughty, especially since Uncle Aaron trusts me to be in there on his computer even though his passwords are ridiculous.”

“You hacked his computer?” This was getting worse by the second.

“Hack is an ugly word when the passwords are things like ‘I love Duncan,’ ‘Sexy Duncan,’ ‘I love my husband,’ all smooshed together, with love spelled L-U-V, or ‘Duncan and Aaron forever,’ with an ampersand in there, and the number four, and ever spelled like E-V-A. I mean, c’mon. He’s the one who’s ridiculous.”

“I’m surprised everyone doesn’t log in to his computer.”

“Well, in his defense, there is a retina scan to use the desktop, and a fingerprint scan just to move the mouse, so it’s not super easy.”

“Good God.”

“But so, yes, I snooped into George, but Uncle Aaron already caught me, and I was sanctioned.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she told me solemnly. “My clothes budget was cut for a month, and I was banned from his computer.”

“That man should not be giving you a stipend for clothes.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I never use even a quarter of it.”

Which meant it was ridiculous. “You realize he’s not your father.”

Instant scowl. “Uh, yeah.”

I shook my head. “Are you banned from his computer forever?”

She made a face. “I think I was supposed to be, but there was another function that we were setting up, and the info was on his desktop, and since he didn’t want to deal with it himself…he gave me my access back.”

“And you’ve been good since?”

“Of course,” she assured me. “I was only interested in George.”

I grunted.

“It’s his fault anyway. He’s so secretive.”

“You realize his personal life is not your business.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been helping with Cynthia. I’ve totally Cyrano’d that situation.”

“Oh?”

Her smile was huge. “I’ve been telling George what not to do, because seriously, the man does not have a romantic bone in his body.”

“Is that right?”

“Ohmygod, Pa, he bought Cyn new tires for her birthday.”

“Because he wanted her to be safe on the road, love. That’s very romantic.”

“Maybe if you’re married,” she replied like it was painful. “But Cyn got him tickets to see the Chicago Blackhawks, which is his favorite team, and before that she made a coupon that said she was taking George to his favorite restaurant, and then after the game, to a place for a special dessert.”

It did sound quite romantic. And thoughtful.

“George got her tires, gave her the receipt, and asked where she wanted to go for dinner,” she groaned, shaking her head. “I mean, for heaven’s sake.”

I squinted.

“Yeah, see,” she quipped. “So I made sure George had the gift, come Christmas.”

Glancing at the perfectly wrapped present, I was honestly afraid to ask.

“Do you want to know what it is?”

“Sure,” I told her.

“It’s a book,” Sam surmised as he walked into the room from upstairs, going to the refrigerator to rummage, I was guessing, for a beer.

She did a slow pan to him. “How did you know?”

He closed the fridge and went to the drawer where the bottle opener was. “I heard museum curator, romantic, and the fact that George screwed up buying tires.”

“I would love tires,” I told my husband.

“You would not,” he scoffed, popping off the bottle cap and passing it to me as I walked over to him. “And I would never buy you tires, because you came completely undone last year when I got you a scarf from Banana Republic.”

“That scarf is huge,” I reminded him. “I can totally wrap up in it, and have.”

“And it’s not an infinity scarf, which you don’t like.”

“Correct,” I agreed, smiling up at him as he pushed my hair out of my face and bent and kissed my forehead.

“I know what to get,” Sam assured me smugly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “But George screwed up on the birthday, so he’s hoping to make up for it on Christmas, so he went to the only person he knows who is an excellent gift giver and who would care enough to help him.”

I nodded and turned back to my daughter. “Your father is a smart man.”

“He is,” Hannah agreed. “And yes, it’s a book in a very fancy case.”

“What book?” Jake asked.

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, which, as you know, is my favorite book, and after some digging on my part, Cyn’s as well.”

Jake shivered. “That book gives me hives.”

Hannah glowered at him. “It’s a romantic masterpiece.”

“It’s about gold diggers,” he countered.

She shook her head like he was stupid.

“However fancy the case is, it’s still a book.”

“I doubt it’s the case,” Sam assured Jake, and Hannah looked at her father. “It’s the edition, am I right?”

She beamed at him. “You are.”

“And?” I prodded her.

“It’s a third edition,” she informed us proudly. “Printed in 1817, in two volumes, bound in mid-twentieth century, calfskin without half-titles, and a vacat page in Volume 1, as is often the case.”

“Of course,” I acknowledged, because why would I argue with her.

“The pages are foxed throughout––”

“Foxed?” Jake asked her.

“It means it’s got some brown spots in it, might be discolored, and I bet you it smells like mold,” Sam explained.

“Why would anyone want an old book that smells bad?”

“It’s collectible,” Hannah told him. “And as you know, Pride and Prejudice was first published in 1813 in three volumes. The third edition is the first two-volume edition, and the final edition to be published by the book's original publisher.”

“So it’s fancy,” Jake surmised.

She nodded. “Yes, it’s fancy.”