“And here’s another one,” he said, handing a bottle of wine to her father and mother.
“You’re kidding,” her dad said, as he read the label. “We’re saving this for a special occasion.” He showed it to Lindy. “Here’s one last gift,” he said, extracting a small, wrapped box that he handed to Lindy.
“For me?” she said, unable to hide her surprise.
Billy’s eyes held hers. “Yes, you.”
Lindy sat with the gift in her lap and carefully unwrapped it. She found a charm bracelet with a single charm. A tiny silver Santa.
“Thought you could add another charm every Christmas,” Santa explained.
For Christmas, this year, after reading those long-ago letters, the Santa charm was perfect. “Thank you,” she said softly, and then, forgetting herself, she leaned over and kissed him.
“Mommy, Mommy, Aunt Lindy kissed Santa.”
“Lucky Santa,” Billy murmured, as he headed toward the door.
“Thank you, Santa.” Peter hurried forward and grabbed hold of Santa’s leg.
Chad gently pried him away so Santa could make his departure.
Santa laughed and left with another cheerful “Ho, ho, ho.”
When Billy returned, Peter raced to his side. “Billy, you just missed seeing Santa. He came to the house.”
Billy did a good job of looking surprised. “I missed seeing Santa?”
Peter nodded. “Maybe he’ll come back.”
“That would be a real surprise,” Billy said, and winked at Lindy.
* * *
—
Dinner was over, the dishes washed, and everyone lounged around with full bellies, needing a break before digging into a selection of desserts. Her mother had baked several pies, plus there were cookies and a variety of Christmas candies.
Billy and Lindy sat on the sofa, his arm around her shoulders. She wore the charm bracelet. She had gotten him a small gift: a certificate to update his website the next time she was in town.
A Christmas movie played on the television. Peter was sprawled across his mother’s and father’s laps, half asleep. Her mother had her fingers working on her latest knitting project, and her dad was involved in the hardcover novel by his favorite author. Lindy knew he wouldn’t be able to resist checking out the book.
“You know what we need to do,” Chad said, extracting himself from Peter and his wife. “Scrabble.”
“Scrabble?” Billy repeated.
“It’s tradition,” Lindy explained. “Every Christmas we all play Scrabble.”
“And work on a jigsaw puzzle,” her dad added.
The puzzle was set up on a card table close to the fireplace. This year, the picture was of Santa coming down the chimney into a living room fully decorated for the holidays. Before dinner, her dad had gotten it going and had started working on the border. Chad had added the entire Christmas tree section near the left-hand side of the border.
Billy had added a few pieces himself. Rarely was the puzzle completely assembled by the end of Christmas Day. It took the week between the two holidays to set the thousand pieces in place and complete the picture. Tradition. The puzzle and a rousing game of Scrabble.
Chad set up the Scrabble board on the dining room table and spread out all the small wooden letters.
“You going to join us, Billy?” Chad asked.
Billy looked to Lindy. “What are the stakes?”
“We play for the privilege of hoping we can beat Dad,” Lindy explained. “This is his game, and he’s practically unstoppable.”
“Watch out for Lindy, too. She can be a creative speller.”
“Very funny, little brother,” she teased back.
Soon the lethargy had left and the six sat around the table while Peter watched cartoons. He bounced between his toys and the television as the game started.
Lindy pulled the Q without a U, and her first word on the board gained her a whopping six points. Not a great start. Her dad’s first word gained him thirteen points. And so it went for the next hour as the board continued to grow with words built up around other words. Once or twice Lindy tried to pull a fast one, insisting her word was in the Webster’s dictionary and was quickly proven wrong. It came as no surprise that her father claimed the crown as the top Scrabble player.
“Has he ever lost?” Billy asked Lindy.
“Once. To Mom, and I think he let her win.”
“He most certainly did not!” her mother insisted, with a quiver to her lips that said everything.
“Chad was born nine months later,” Lindy whispered to Billy.