Bright Lights, Big Christmas(77)

“Seems appropriate,” Murphy murmured, pointing to the window, where white flakes were floating past outside.

“Now can we open presents?” Austin pleaded.

“On Christmas Eve?” Heinz frowned. “Is that permissible?”

“Austin is going to Gretchen’s parents’ house tomorrow morning, so the rule is, he gets to open one gift tonight,” Patrick said.

The boy sprawled out on the floor at the base of the tree and retrieved a lumpy gold foil package that had been wrapped with yards of cellophane tape and multiple colors of ribbons as well as dragon stickers.

“The oldest person in the room opens the first present,” Austin declared, handing the gift to Heinz.

“For me?” Heinz’s hands trembled slightly as he slowly removed the tape and paper and ribbon.

“Hurry up!” Austin urged, standing at the old man’s shoulder.

Finally, the paper fell away, revealing a clay creature with scales running down its back, a long, forked tail, and a cartoonish head with fangs.

“It’s a dragon,” Heinz said, turning the creature back and forth.

“I made it myself. But I’m not such a good draw-er as you and Kerry,” Austin said.

“It’s marvelous,” Heinz said. “It’s the best present anyone has ever given me.”

Austin’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” the old man assured him. “Thank you, young friend.”

Austin plucked a small box from beneath the tree. “Murphy, you go next cuz I think you’re the next oldest.”

“Actually, I’m two years older than him,” Claudia said with a chuckle. “But go ahead and open it, anyway.”

Murphy slit the tape on the box with a penknife, opened it, and lifted out a single key with a golden tassel attached. He glanced over at Claudia, who shot him a knowing smile, then he wordlessly tucked the key into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt.

“You’re next,” he told her, pointing to a wooden cigar box tied with a red satin bow.

Claudia unfastened the bow, opened the box, and lifted out a small carved wooden figure, about six inches tall, nestled in tissue paper.

“It’s Santa,” Austin said.

“Look closer,” Murphy advised.

The figure had a dark, raggedy beard and a riot of untamed hair. He wore a red-and-black-checked shirt, jeans, and hunting boots. But the giveaway was the Christmas tree slung over his shoulder.

“No way! It’s Murphy,” Austin crowed.

Claudia threw her arms around Murphy’s neck and kissed him soundly. “It’s perfect! Did you carve it yourself?”

“It’s nothing much, really,” Murphy said, blushing. “I had time on my hands while I was sitting around the stand at night, so I kinda just started whittling on a chunk of cedar. I used Kerry’s markers to color it with. Just something to remember me by after I’ve gone back south.”

“As if I could ever forget Murphy Tolliver,” Claudia said, kissing him again.

“There’s another gift under the tree there for Murphy.” Heinz pointed to a flat rectangular package wrapped in brown paper.

“For me?” Murphy looked genuinely surprised. “I don’t have anything for you, Heinz.”

The old man patted his clay dragon. “I have enough gifts. More than I’ve gotten in thirty years, now that I think of it.”

When the brown paper was ripped away, Heinz’s guests “ooohed” in unison as the gift was revealed—a watercolor portrait of Queenie. The dog’s large dark eyes seemed to shine out from her face, and her muzzle, complete with the heart-shaped patch of brown fur, curved into something almost like a smile with just the tip of her pink tongue exposed.

“Don’t touch the paper,” Heinz urged. “The paint isn’t quite dry. I had very little time to work on it, so it’s not as detailed—”

“This is amazing,” Murphy said, holding the edge of the portrait’s frame. “You really captured her soul.”

“She’s a very soulful dog,” Heinz said. “And excellent company. I’m going to miss her when she’s gone.”

“Why do Queenie and Murphy have to go? Why can’t they just stay here with us?” Austin asked plaintively.

“We gotta go home and get busy growing Christmas trees so they’ll be ready when we come back here to sell them next year,” Murphy said gently. “Me and Queenie, we’re from the country. We do okay in the big city for a month, but after that, we need to get back to the mountains and roam around in the woods where we belong. Just like you belong here in the city with your dad.”

The boy’s lower lip trembled.

“Austin, don’t forget, you’ve got a gift for Kerry, don’t you?” Patrick reminded him, pointing to the tree, where only two more gifts remained.

Austin retrieved a box wrapped in shiny red paper embossed with green Christmas trees and placed it in Kerry’s lap.

“I love it already,” Kerry said. “It’s too pretty to unwrap.”

“Wait until you see what’s inside,” Austin said.

Kerry ripped the paper away and opened the box, lifting out a snow globe. Pictured inside the glass orb, in exquisite detail, was a miniature three-dimensional scene of a small city park surrounded by distinguished brownstones.