Chapter 25 Christmas #3
Poking his head out of the kitchen, Oliver replies jovially, “Coming right up. No need to worry, we have plenty.”
Jake whispers in my ear, “Just pretend to drink it. It’s pretty awful and watch out, it’s strong.”
When Oliver brings over two glasses with a thick yellow liquid and I take a small sip. Hmm, maybe this will help me make it through the evening.
We sit down for dinner and I’m glad I can identify everything on my plate, and it tastes as good as it smells—except for the little legs of lamb. They are too raw and too strong for my taste. After trying a few bites, I leave them alone and decide I’ll just eat everything else.
Jake reaches his fork over and takes a few morsels of lamb off my plate when he notices I’m avoiding it.
I, meanwhile, sink my fork in his twice-baked potato when I finish mine.
We are like an old married couple, eating off each other’s plates.
Next thing you know, we’ll be finishing each other’s sentences.
Maria clears the plates, and I stay firmly rooted to my chair to avoid any repeat of the Jessica dinner fiasco.
Carol announces dramatically, “Before dessert, let’s retire to the sitting room for presents.”
We shuffle into the living room and there are a few gifts under the huge, sparkly, fake tree. I rush to tuck my cookie boxes underneath the tree with the other gifts.
Carol clears her throat, making sure all eyes are on her, before handing Sandy and Glen a large, heavy box. They open a huge juicer or blender thingy they call a Vitamix.
Sandy gushes, “Thanks so much. This is great. I hear it can make juice out of anything.”
Hopping up, she gives Carol and Oliver a quick hug and turns to regard Glen pointedly. “Glen and I have been trying to eat healthier, and the Vitamix is just what we need to help.”
Rolling his eyes, Glen responds sarcastically, “Great. Juice.”
Reaching under the tree, Carol pulls out a long rectangular box. She reads the tag, “To Jake, From Oliver and Carol.” When Jake doesn’t get up, she places it in his lap, and Jake slowly, hesitantly unwraps it. Inside the elegant Brooks Brother’s box is a lovely pinstripe suit with a shirt and tie.
Jake grimaces. “Gee, thanks. This is really too much.”
Carol comes over and hugs Jake. “Jake, really. You need to start thinking about when.” Her voice drops. “Oliver is losing patience.”
Jake gives her a stony look. “Really?” he asks flatly. “On Christmas, Ma?”
Looking annoyed, Carol retorts, “You know I hate when you call me that.”
Jake turns to me. “Emma, do you want to give out your pretty little boxes you’ve brought?”
My cookies aren’t an expensive suit or a Vitamix, but they are lovely and certainly won’t evoke any of the ill will that seems connected to the more expensive gifts. I quickly retrieve my boxes and hand one to Oliver, Carol, Sandy, and Glen.
Glen opens his first and exclaims, “Now we’re talking. These look delicious.” He grabs a cookie out of his box and pops it in his mouth, “Aah, heavenly.”
Carol lifts out a cookie, takes a sniff, and then sets it back into the box, “Yes, they do smell and look lovely. But we have dessert coming.”
Sandy and Oliver don’t bother to open their boxes.
Smiling reassuringly, Jake says loudly, “Emma, they look lovely. Did you make these?”
“Yes, I did,” I say gratefully. “They’re called kolaczki, a traditional Polish Christmas cookie.”
“Okay,” Carol says as if I haven’t even spoken, “now here is something for Emma.” She pulls an envelope from the tree that was hidden in the branch and hands it to me.
I’m not sure if I should open it.
She nods encouragingly, “Open it, dear. It’s something everyone can use.”
Opening the envelope, I find a pretty card inside. As I flip open the card, an gift card drops onto my lap. Jake reaches over, picks it up, and hands it back to me with a frown.
“Thank you so much,” I say sincerely. “That is so generous. And you are right, I can certainly use it.”
Sandy gets up and pulls an envelope from her purse and quips, “Like mother, like daughter. Here open mine—uh—mine and Glen’s gift.”
I slide open the card and this time manage to keep the gift card from dropping. It is another $50 gift card. I smile at Sandy. “Oh, that is a funny coincidence. Thank you both so much. I have a hundred things I can buy with this.”
Jake levels a sharp gaze at both Sandy and Carol and says, his voice dripping with insincerity, “Yes, what a wonderful personal gift from both of you. Is this what you gave the doorman too?”
I peer at him, confused by his tone. “Jake, it’s very nice and, as they said, very useful.”
Jake cuts me off with a glare. “No, really. This is so welcoming and filled with such thoughtfulness. I really must go on—”
“Enough! Let’s go have dessert,” Carol warns, waving her hand dismissively. She marches back into the dining room.
On his way out, Glen sneaks one more cookie into his mouth and nudges me whispering, “Thanks for the cookies. They are the best I’ve ever tasted. And I’m not just saying that because I may be drinking only juice for the new year.”
He winks. He is a nice guy when he’s allowed to talk.
As we are packing up the gifts, getting ready to leave, I run to the bathroom.
When I walk by the front door, I see the maid has placed her bag next to the front door before returning to the dining room to do some last-minute cleanup.
I spot one of my boxes of cookies peeking out of the side of her bag.
Only now do I remember hearing Carol say something to Maria earlier about taking something because “they will only go to waste.” I thought they were talking about leftover lamb, but now I realize she was talking about my cookies.
My heart stings with the hurt. I’ll never fit into Jake’s family, but they didn’t even give me a chance.
I’d been holding on to a little hope that I would be accepted and even welcomed, but now it is as clear as the red box shoved into the maid’s bag that I’ll never fit in.
Making my way into the dining room, I woodenly say, “Merry Christmas and thank you for the meal.”
I can’t bring myself to say anything about the gift cards, as I now understand Jake’s anger: they are a pathetic gift that, unlike my cookies, didn’t take an ounce of time or effort.
Jake and I step out onto Fifth Avenue, and I take a sharp inhale, the world is now blanketed with snow, turning it into a winter wonderland. We stand perfectly still, taking in the magical sight. The city has completely changed in the four hours since we arrived at Jake’s parents.
Jake breathes, “I don’t even care if my family gave you the lamest gifts anymore. That isn’t what Christmas is about, is it?”
I shake my head in agreement. “I don’t even care your mom gave my cookies to Maria. That isn’t what Christmas is about either.”
“What?” Jake barks. “She gave your lovely cookies to the maid?”
I nod, feeling the sting of tears despite the magic in the air.
Jake shakes his head. “If I knew that was an option, I would have given Maria my stupid suit, too.” He smiles ruefully.
“Well, at least Glen won’t give his box of cookies away, am I right?” I quip.
Jake hoots. “Oh! Aren’t you something? I better watch out. You have some claws hidden under all that innocence and sweetness.”
I giggle and our anger and hurt melt away with our laughter.
The soft covering of snow turns the hurt and disappointment into something enchanting and mystical.
Our little drama isn’t important in the larger scheme of things.
The world and nature contain secrets, and the power of Christmas snow heals and fixes everything.
Its magic lets a pretend couple walk with the fairies and elves on this one special night.
As darkness descends on us, we hear the distinctive who cooks for you call of a nearby barred owl. Magic!