Chapter 30

Our hunger sated, Dad called us all back for the gift exchanges.

“Now, the way I propose doing this, is we put our names into a bowl, and then choose who goes first. That individual will select a gift, and then the next person goes. They can either select a new present, or take the one that the first person already has. If they do that...”

“James!” His future intended swatted him. “Who’s the youngest?”

Everyone pointed at Paige, even Paige herself.

“Go get a gift and bring it back to the person it’s for.”

She started small, bringing Dad a box that had to be from one of the two of them. We waited while he opened it, pulling out a pair of Bose in-ear noise-cancelling buds.

“For when Tim bellows a bit too much,” he was told by her. After receiving thanks for her gift, she was sent back to the pile.

This one was for Evie, and it was the gift that I had picked out at her design-house friend’s place of business. The crates were still in the garage, behind a section that had been shielded from view with an old shower curtain and a clothesline. I had made a sign and posted it – ‘Christmas Gifts, No Peeking.’ The representation of her gift under the tree was a simple card that she opened, letting her know that the present was behind that impenetrable plastic veil.

“Come on,” I told her, “let’s go look.”

Dad stopped everyone. “Hold it. Who else has something stored behind Tim’s curtain?”

Everyone raised a hand, myself included.

He had a suggestion. “Let’s keep going with what’s around the tree, and then we can all visit the garage together so that no one’s surprise is ruined.”

I was puzzled, having put the first items behind there, and then never checking afterward. “How can that happen? If you all have been putting stuff back there, don’t you know what else is stacked up?”

Dad shook his head. “No, we’d give it to your grandfather, and then he’d come over and hide it. He’s the only one to have seen the stash.”

“Oh. That’s alright then,” I conceded. I motioned for Paige to keep going.

She brought back another small box, placing it in my hands. “From me.”

I opened it to find a bottle of cologne.

“It reminded me of you when I smelled it in the store. I hope you like it.”

I sprayed some into my hands, smelling it briefly before applying it to my neck and face. Nice. It was masculine, not musky, with a hint of citrus. It seemed to work very well with my skin chemistry, as evidenced by the deep sniff Paige took of my neck before going back to the pile.

I passed the bottle around as requested and it stopped at Evie. She looked an apology my way when she grabbed Dad’s hand, turning it over so she could spray a spot on his wrist. Apparently his body chemistry was similar to mine, making her react in much the same way her daughter had. There was a guilty expression on her when it made its way back into my box to be set aside.

Paige gave her mother a dirty look. “Get your own, Mom! That one’s mine.”

“And here I thought it was yours,” Dad remarked to me, sotto voce.

The next gift was for Paige. She opened it to find the earrings and necklace I had selected for her. Of course, she had to put them on immediately, turning her back to me so I could fasten the clasp of the chain around her porcelain column. The jewelry was the type of gift that a boyfriend would get his girlfriend for their first Christmas, and I knew the combination would make Paige’s eyes dance. I was right.

“Oh, Tim ... that’s too much.” She clearly had no idea of what they must have cost.

“No, they were the perfect price. Besides, Dad paid me for all the work I did on the house. I may have gone a little overboard on everyone,” I finally admitted.

Dad was next, getting another envelope that promised something currently hidden in the garage. Paige followed that up with her mom, then me, and again back to her. I could see a pattern emerge that made me realize someone had been cataloguing every item under the tree. I learned it wasn’t just Paige when Evie pointed at one hidden behind the tree the next time it was Dad’s turn.

“From me and Mom,” Paige told Dad as she turned it over to him.

He opened it to find a full set of traditional architect’s tools in noble metal accompanied by a display case.

“They’re beautiful,” he said, taking the time to examine each ruler, pen, pencil, compass and other devices included. “Thank you.”

Evie received much better jewelry from Dad than I had procured for her daughter. There was a full diamond pendant necklace, Tiffany, stamped on the silver, along with a tennis bracelet that simply sparkled with the number of stones. It was much like the set he had given to Mom a couple of years ago.

It didn’t surprise me or stir up any feelings of resentment – this wasn’t a competition between the two women Dad had loved, and still did love, to be decided by the variety and weight of the gems with which he adorned each of them. Besides, all of Mom’s jewelry had passed to me so that I might someday see my significant other dressed in them.

“I always meant to adorn you like this,” he told Evie, “I just couldn’t afford it. Now that I’m spending Tim’s inheritance, you should forever sparkle.”

Paige tried to get her mother over to the other end of the room where there was a full-length antique mirror. Evie brushed her off, looking into Dad’s eyes.

“I have all the mirror I need right here.”

The daughter looked at me, opening her mouth and pointing a finger in, miming a gag. I laughed. My hands came up to her hips, she was easy to turn, and I sent her on her way with a little push toward the tree. There were still presents there, and she was falling behind in her duties.

She handed me a rectangular package, taking one identical to it for herself. We each opened them together to find out what the errand had been that afternoon. There, in identical frames, were the pictures that I had seen on Evie’s phone, made into something we each could place by our bedsides. Dad got another present from the stack while Paige and I looked at each other.

Soon, I followed Evie, receiving a shirt that I’m sure Paige had picked out. Then she had to select a present for herself. Of the fifteen or so items remaining under the tree, probably half were for my girlfriend. They were the small kitchen items that I had picked up for her for stocking stuffers after seeing her admire them at Williams-Sonoma, but footwear hadn’t been hung. It was the type of cheesy thing I could do that would make her smile.

“Go ahead,” I told her, “they’re sort of a package deal.”

She began to open her gifts, recognizing one after the other as her wish list from the domestic store.

I grinned. “They’re as much a present to me as they are to you. I hoped that you’d want to use them and we could spend more time together in the kitchen.”

Evie popped a Tollhouse cookie morsel into her mouth. “I’d say it’s a gift to all of us then.”

The remaining items under the tree were for Grandma and Grandpa and would be opened when they joined us the following day. We weren’t quite done though as we still had the garage to visit. I was looking forward to this. The items I knew about that were there, were the drafting table I had gotten Dad, and the vase and Federalist stand for it which Dad and I purchased for Evie. Those were still packaged up with nothing to indicate what was inside, so they were saved for last.

Instead, Dad’s eyes opened when he saw the table saw that Evie had given to him after a consultation with yours truly. I disappointed him when he noticed another box on top of it and thought it was also his.

“Sorry, Dad, that’s for Grandpa. Yours is over here.”

I led him to the plain white cardboard box leaned up against the wall. He pulled open the top, finding the brochure and setup instructions for his new drafting table, the old one not having made the trip from Seattle, it was so worn out.

“Thanks, Tim.” His eyes were bright with anticipation. “You can help me set it up tomorrow.”

In turn, he reached down and picked up a wrapped circular object, handing it to me. “Here, this is for you. You probably wondered where your gift from me was.”

I nodded, carefully tearing the paper away from a new steering wheel. The emblem in the center, once I had it turned the right way, proclaimed it to be for a 427 Shelby Cobra. I looked at Dad, then back at the wheel, finally settling on him.

“Don’t look so hungry, Tim. I got you a kit car, but it will require a lot of hours to find parts and put it together, not to mention finishing. I thought that you and I and your grandpa could all work on it when we needed a break from the house, or these ladies.”

He gave me the brochure for a gleaming blue machine, complete with broad white racing stripes that ran from the bonnet to the chromed tailpipes.

“I’m driving that,” Paige proclaimed from over my shoulder, the misplaced confidence in her pronouncement making me laugh.

“We’ll see.”

I put the brochure aside and pointed at the last two items left for Evie. “From Dad and me.”

He took out the pry bar that had been placed at hand and carefully opened the crates, one at a time. When the packing had been removed, there stood the combination I had selected for the old Goddard residence. I grinned somewhat sheepishly.

“I chose those for your great room in the other house. There was a corner to the right of the piano that it seemed this would fit in nicely. You’ll have to find a spot here where you want to put them.”

She smiled, tears appearing in her eyes. “This would have been perfect for that room. Thank you, Tim, for applying your talents for me.”

Dad looked askance at her upon hearing that. “What do you mean?”

“You promised,” I warned her.

“But it’s family,” she pleaded.

My eyes looked upwards, accompanied by a sigh. “Fine!”

She handed the vase to her daughter with a command not to drop it while in the next breath instructing Dad to bring in the small table. We crowded around her in front of the tree in that cozy space that had been created out of formal furniture.

Dad was surprised to hear that the end result in each room of the house was the refinement I had put on Evie’s selections. I didn’t think the look of pride on Paige’s face could get any larger or stronger. Evie simply looked happy.

“Not a word, Dad. This is one of those stories that stays in the family.”

“That goes for you, too, Paige.”

I showed Paige where the stereo and other audio devices were hidden in some beautiful cabinet work and bookshelves built into the wall behind where the baby grand now resided. The speakers themselves were high-end Bose units hidden in various places: wall, ceiling, a subwoofer in the corner under an end table. There was a selection of waltzes in a playlist I had created earlier that week that I put on.

“I have one more gift for you, Paige,” I said, taking her hand and escorting her to the space cleared by Dad’s furniture rearrangement. “I saw how you looked with longing at our parquet floors when it was mentioned at the open house there would be room for dancing. I want to give you that. I want to see you in an elegant dress, turning and twirling across this surface. I’m going to teach you to dance.”

She looked doubtful. “You’ve promised me that twice, and all you ever did was hold me, not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she finished hurriedly.

“Well, I couldn’t spoil the surprise, could I?” I brushed non-existent stray hairs from her eyes. “Are you willing to learn?” I asked softly.

She nodded.

We spent the next hour walking through the steps of the waltz, finishing the first lesson with a reasonable facsimile of that dance. Evie stood when I finally allowed her exhausted daughter to sit.

“Let me try.”

She knew how to dance, that was obvious from the first moment I took her into my arms. I turned and led, and moved her across the floor, her skirt alternately twisting about her legs, and flaring as she spun. There was a tap on my shoulder.

“I’m cutting in,” Dad told me.

I bowed out gracefully, finding the comfort of high-backed cushions and a waiting woman.

“That was beautiful,” Paige admitted. “You’re sure that I can learn that?”

“Positive.”

Midnight came eventually, the clock on the mantle striking its twelve bells in a reminder that Christmas was upon us. There were kisses all round, and soft ‘Merry Christmases’ as we wrapped up the evening. We all retired, each to our own hometown, is how I recall the story going, and sleep claimed us, or at least me.

I was slightly disappointed but not really surprised when I reached the kitchen on Christmas morning at as early an o’clock as planned and my helper wasn’t there. It wasn’t a big deal, though; the only thing I had intended for that hour was to get the ovens heated, and the cinnamon rolls started. I grabbed the portable timer and made my way back to the ‘sleeping couch’ to wait while the pastry baked.

It was a good thing I brought it with me as I was awakened when the timer announced my need to remove the baked goods from the oven. They were slightly overdone when I pulled the rolls out, but still eminently edible. I made a mental note that the oven ran slightly hot. The rolls were set on a rack to cool, and I found my way back to my room, setting the alarm again for seven this time.

A while later there was a respectful tap on my door, rousing me once more before the alarm on my phone could do its job.

“Tim, are you awake?”

That came from the vicinity of our shared bathroom. I hopped out of bed, pulling on the sweats I had abandoned not even an hour ago, and called out, “Come in.”

Paige saw me standing there, half attired and smiled, “That’s not fair.”

“What?”

“You’re not allowed to look that good first thing in the morning.”

Like she had anything to talk about. That’s the beauty of the short haircuts that she and I sported: there’s little needed to spruce them up, and not much danger of bedhead straight from the pillow.

“You look pretty good yourself,” I responded, catching her in a hug. “I need to take a shower. Are you okay with me going first?”

There was a nod. “Finish up, and then when I’m done, I’ll come help you in the kitchen.” She exited through the bathroom, closing the door into her room behind her.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes later when she joined me in the kitchen, freshly scrubbed and washed, her hair still damp, giving lie to the myth that she needed exorbitant amounts of time in the washroom to be presentable.

“You look perfect, Sweet Pea.”

Her smile was unexpectedly shy. “I like that. I’ll have to think of a name for you.”

What? I ran my comment back in my head. Oh. Well, what’s done is done. I pointed at the turkey I had splayed open on the counter beside me. “Are you ready to start?”

“Tell me what to do.”

My Surface Pro was on the little stand built into the kitchen, and it provided step-by-step instructions. Paige was the perfect helper, or maybe I was hers as we each read the instructions carefully. Onions, bread, butter, poultry seasoning, celery, stock; they all went into a bowl and were mixed well, then shoved into the waiting bird. With Paige holding the wings and drumsticks together I trussed the beast before depositing it into the oven. I looked to see that the clock read seven-thirty.

“Five hours,” I told Paige. “We’ll need to baste every half hour, and then the bird will be done a little after noon. We’ll give it a half hour to rest while we finish the sides, and we’ll eat right around one o’clock.”

She nodded acknowledgement. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

No. That part I had skipped. “Not yet.”

She grabbed plates and bowls from the cupboard, setting the nook for two. We each selected our morning foods and brought them with us as we sat down.

Before I prayed, she had a request. “I really like the way you and your dad have devotions. Do you think you and I could do that?”

Yes. A thousand times, yes. That would be part of the Tim and Paige identity we would build together. “I think that would be just about perfect.”

We ate together, not much conversation between us. I was hungry, and she was absorbed in her thoughts. She found the Bible with the devotional book beside it and brought it back to the table when she was finished. It took me a few minutes before I was ready.

I led us through the readings for today – they were understandably about the gifts that God gives to us. I motioned for her to pray when done.

“No.” She was serious. “If we go on, you’ll be the head of our family – I’m old fashioned that way. You pray.”

I had a hard time getting the first few sentences out, but both my heart and my words thanked God for His gifts.

“What time are Grandma and Grandpa coming, Tim?”

I looked at the clock to see it was almost eight. Grandma had said nine, which I passed along to Paige. There was potentially an hour of cuddling on the couch before they arrived.

“Come on,” she spoiled my plans, “let’s wrap those things in the garage before they get here.”

Grandpa’s Skilsaw and Grandma’s sewing machine were sitting out there unadorned. I was given the heavy item to carry in, the sewing machine, while Paige lugged the saw. She disappeared to find tape, ribbons and paper while I set my load down in the living room where we had been. When the supplies had been located, we took the boxes and started to cover them in decorative paper.

“You’re hopeless,” I was told after she watched me struggle with sizes and ribbons, tape and paper. “Let me do that.”

She expertly laid out an expanse from the roll onto the floor, not bothering with the measuring tape I was helpfully extending to her.

“Put that,” she pointed to the first box, “here.” She made magic with the tape and scissors, and it was done.

There was another roll of paper exposed. “Next!” I deposited the load and watched in awe as her expertise was repeated.

“I love you.” Today was obviously the day for my thoughts to emerge from my mouth, uncensored.

“Shut up. You’re going to make me cry. I don’t want Grandma’s present to be tearstained.” She finished, putting bows and cards on each of them. I was directed to place those gifts with the other presents for Grandma and Grandpa under the tree.

“I love you, too,” she whispered as we stood there looking at the surprises awaiting opening.

Dad and Evie slept until shortly before nine. He showed up freshly shaved and showered, while Evie contented herself with a scrunchie holding back her hair, and mouthwash. Paige and I let them eat their breakfast together, not saying anything until the doorbell rang.

“You’re an evil child,” Paige’s mom threw over her shoulder at her unrepentant daughter as she took the steps two-at-a-time, surprised by the invasion of guests.

Paige answered the door. “Grandma, Grandpa, come in.”

They received hugs as they walked into the house. I noticed Grandpa had tears in his eyes from the way he had been greeted. He pointed a finger at me, “Say anything and you’re a dead man.”

We ushered them into the living room, explaining that Dad was still eating breakfast and Evie was getting herself ready for the day. Grandma wanted to get into the kitchen, but I took the pies she was carrying from her and told Paige to keep them occupied. It was a new experience for her to not be cooking. The kitchen was her domain and she wasn’t used to being excluded from it.

I rejoined the three of them in time to hear Grandpa ask where the games were; he meant football.

“They don’t start until noon, Grandpa,” I told him. “Why don’t you and Grandma go downstairs?”

“Paige, show them the gaming area.”

We worked as a team, keeping the older McKenzies off-balance and shuttling them into the basement, leaving the upper floors to Dad and Evie.

“Here, Grandma. We have Monopoly, Sorry, Operation, checkers, chess ... just about anything you could want.”

Grandma smiled when Paige wanted her to play the same game that only two days before, her future daughter-in-law had bested us at. “I have dibs on the thimble.”

We spent a full two hours in the gaming area, either Paige or I getting up every thirty minutes to baste the turkey. I finally had to bow out of the game when eleven-thirty arrived since it was time to start the potatoes boiling, bread baking, and all the other things that were necessary for a classic Christmas dinner. Paige joined me, accompanying Grandma and Grandpa up the stairs when the game reached its conclusion, and sending them into the media room.

“What can I do?” she asked.

The Surface had a recipe for green bean casserole that required thirty minutes in the oven with cream of mushroom soup and crispy fried onions.

“Now what?”

I pointed at the potatoes. “Peel those, then get them in some boiling, salted water.” I didn’t have to say anything more than that.

She finished with a salad creation that both looked and I’m sure would taste delicious. I set her to work on the table.

The turkey came out of the oven when the meat thermometer told me it was time. We let it rest on the counter for a while, removing the stuffing at the last minute and placing the steaming contents in a bowl. I opened a couple of cans of cranberry sauce to accompany it, and between the two of us we placed the bird in front of where Dad was expected to sit for dinner. There were a couple of bottles of chilled Chardonnay that found themselves breathing freely for the first time in years, and a like number of Martinelli Ciders.

I sent Paige to notify our grandparents who were still in the media room, while I searched for Dad and Evie myself. They weren’t in the house, but out the kitchen window I saw movement in the gazebo. I exited the mudroom and called down to them, receiving a promise that they’d be right there. Five minutes later, we were all sitting at the table, Dad at the head, Evie by his side. I handed him the carving tools. He said grace, and we all dug into the meal.

The internet is a wonderful tool, particularly when used for cooking instructions the way I had this morning. We left the dining room stuffed to the gills, the food cooling behind us. Dad directed everyone into the great room where the couches still sat intimately in front of the tree.

“Paige, will you do the honors?”

She lugged presents out from under the evergreen, handing them to their intended recipients. I received a hand-sewn comforter from Grandma, and a stereo system for the 457 from Grandpa, along with a promise to help in its assembly. Evie and Paige each received Grandma’s hand-crafted products – a quilt and a shawl. Dad got hand tools from both of his parents, making him happy. Grandpa’s Skilsaw and Grandma’s new sewing machine prompted smiles all round. Dad presented the string of pearls he had selected for her to his mother. There was one more gift to go though, and it was Grandpa’s to present.

He took a knee in front of his wife. “Candace, when we were first married and moved into the house, I made you a promise. I promised you that I would build you your dream home, but I never could make good on that. Well, your son is an architect now, and the McKenzie men would like to make that dream come true for you. Will you let us do that?”

Grandma held her arms open, asking all of us to crowd around, Evie and Paige included. “You already have,” she told us, encompassing all the love in the room between her two outstretched hands. “But if you want to give me one of James’ creations, I’d like that, too.”

There were tears and laughter, and I thought we were done, but not quite.

“Would you let me apply my talents in this, too, Mom?” Evie asked.

Now we were done.

Paige was sulking. “All of you get to give Grandma something, and I’m left out.”

“Really? Didn’t you say you wanted to learn to sew from her? What better gift than to spend time with her, allowing her to teach you something she loves to do?”

I tried to make Paige see that she wasn’t excluded, that she had something to give.

“Now, why don’t you and Evie take her upstairs and show her the new gown. It’s in Dad’s closet.”

That brightened her up; she left to find the other women.

In the meantime Dad was talking to Grandpa. “So, if we can get the drawings approved, we’ll move you out by the end of January, and then we’ll start the demolition. I’ll work with the two of you on the plans, and Tim will put together the timelines, but you’ll be in charge of the project. Sound good?”

Grandpa nodded. “Why wait so long though?”

“Well, the plans will take some time, but there’s also another reason. The two of you will be moving in, and before you do, the four of us,” he said, referring to the blended family we were creating, “need some time to mesh together.”

“Okay. I’ll have the equipment buildings here finished by the end of next month. We’ll get that out of the way before we start anything new,” Grandpa promised.

The three of us retired to the media room to watch football for the rest of the day.

With a girlish squeal, Paige came running into the space where we were, looking for us. Grandpa captured her, pulling the young woman down to his lap and tickling her mercilessly. “Stop it ... hic ... Grandpa! I have to tell you something.” He ended his torture, and her laughter faded.

“Grandma’s coming and you’re in trouble,” she related to me.

“Really?”

“No. But she’s going to play it off like you are. Be good, and act sorry.” She had barely enough time to make it off Grandpa’s lap when the other women joined us.

Grandma looked stunning in the new dress. Evie stood behind her in the doorway trying not to smile, and failing.

“Which one of you bozos came up with this idea?” The question shot from my father’s mother like a round out of a cannon.

Even though I knew from Paige’s advance warning that we weren’t in trouble, it still took an effort not to look at Dad. I hoped like Hades that he wasn’t looking at me. He left me to deal with this by myself.

“What do you mean, Grandma?”

She channeled her inner Chris Tucker. “Do you not understand the words that are coming out of my mouth? Which one of you came up with this idea?!” Her cadence this time was measured and slow.

Grandpa sat placidly, for once certain that he was in no way taking fire. That changed when his wife rounded on him. “And you! Why are you sitting there grinning like an idiot? Did you know what they were up to?”

He went from placid calm to stool-pigeon in under two seconds. “Tim. James. It was them. I swear, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

She made her way between us and the TV, first crooking a finger at Dad, and then me, pointing to two spots on the floor in front of her when we stood. Obediently, we made our way to the tiny point she had indicated, ready for whatever she chose to dole out.

“Thank you, boys, I love it,” she finished in a normal tone. We received hugs from her as a more tangible expression of her gratitude.

“You know Alfonse is going to make versions of this design though and sell them in his boutique.”

“Give me some credit, Candace,” a slightly irritated Evie told her, “it wasn’t my first time negotiating. He signed a confidentiality agreement that I had my lawyer draw up. Plus, I’m doing some design work for him on his new shop, and he knows that his name will be mud if he crosses me.”

It seemed that Dad was beginning to forget things, as their conversation regarding Alfonse reminded him that we had invited the haberdasher to a party at our house, to be held a week from yesterday.

“Evie, in the uproar we forgot about the New Year’s Eve party. Do you think we can pull something together by this coming Sunday? Family and friends?”

“We can if you leave it to me.”

She turned to the other two women. “Ladies, we have some serious work ahead of us. Let’s go.”

I was sent out for snacks at half-time of the afternoon game. Dad wanted any cinnamon rolls that were left, and Grandpa had heard about the seven-layer bean dip. I suspect it was really a ploy of theirs to get rid of me so they could talk about whatever, without me around.

When I left the sanctity of the sound-proofed space, there were strains of piano playing coming from the other end of the house, and they were the ones a student makes while practicing – scales, that kind of thing. I turned toward my errand, heading off to find what I needed in the kitchen. Grandma and Evie were sitting at the table in there, drinking coffee.

“This is really bad, Dear,” Grandma was telling her as I came into earshot. “What did you do wrong?”

For the second time in one day I heard Grandma on the short end of Evie’s temper.

“Candace, I told you not to drink from the carafe. And for your information, I did nothing wrong. Just because Paige and I prefer a different strength and blend doesn’t mean that it’s wrong. Really! Is it your generation, or do you share a gene with my mother?”