As I recalled those mornings, I could feel Bryce’s curious gaze on me.
“Good memories,” I said simply.
“It must be hard being away from your family today.”
I met his eyes, feeling warm in a way I hadn’t expected. “Actually,” I said, “I’m doing okay.”
We took a seat on the couch and chatted in the glow of the lights from the Christmas tree until dinner was ready. My aunt had made turkey, and despite eating only small portions, I felt like I was going to pop when I finally put my fork down.
By the time we cleaned the kitchen and retreated to the living room, the storm had passed; though lightning still flickered on the horizon, the rain had stopped and a light fog had begun to roll in. Aunt Linda had poured herself and Gwen a glass of wine—it was the first time I’d ever seen either of them drink anything with alcohol—and we began opening gifts. My aunt loved the gloves; Gwen exclaimed over the music box, and I opened the gifts that my parents and Morgan had sent. I found a nice pair of shoes and some cute tops and sweaters that were one size larger than I usually wore, which I supposed made sense considering my situation. When it was Bryce’s turn, I handed him the envelope.
I’d picked a fairly generic card, with room to write my own message. Because the light was so dim in the living room, he had to turn on the reading lamp to see what I’d written.
Merry Christmas, Bryce!
Thank you for all your help, and in the spirit of the holidays, I wanted to get you something I knew you would love, a gift that just might keep on giving for the rest of your life.
This card entitles you to the following:
My aunt’s super-secret biscuit recipe; and
A baking lesson for the two of us, so that you can learn how to make them on your own.
Obviously, this gift is from both my aunt and me, but it was my idea.
Maggie
P.S. My aunt would like you to keep the recipe secret!
As he read the card, I stole a peek at Aunt Linda, whose eyes were glittering. When he finished, he turned first toward me, then toward her before finally breaking into a grin.
“This is great!” he declared. “Thank you! I can’t believe you remembered.”
“I wasn’t sure what else to get you.”
“It’s the perfect gift,” he said. Turning to my aunt, he said, “I don’t want you to go to a lot of trouble, so if it’s easier, we can go to your shop early and watch you prepare them like you always do.”
“In the middle of the night?” I said, my eyes widening. “I don’t think so.”
Both Aunt Linda and Gwen laughed. “We’ll figure it out,” my aunt said.
Next were the gifts from Bryce. As my aunt carefully unwrapped the gift he’d given both of them, I caught a glimpse of the frame and knew immediately he’d given them a photograph. Curiously, my aunt and Gwen both stared at it without speaking, causing me to rise from my spot on the couch and peek over their shoulders. I suddenly understood why they couldn’t stop staring.
It was a color image of the shop taken early in the morning, and from the angle, I suspected that Bryce had to lie in the road to take it. A customer—I guessed he fished for a living based on his attire—was leaving with a small bag in hand just as a woman was entering. Both were bundled up and you could actually see their breath frozen in space. In the window, I spotted the reflection of clouds, and beyond the glass, I could see my aunt’s profile and Gwen placing a cup of coffee on the counter. Above the roof, the sky was slate gray, accentuating the faded painted siding and the weather-beaten eaves. Though I’d seen the shop countless times, I’d never seen it appear so arresting…beautiful, even.
“This…is incredible,” Gwen managed to say. “I can’t believe we didn’t see you taking this.”
“I was hiding. I actually went out there three mornings in a row to get just the shot I wanted. It took two rolls of film.”
“Are you going to hang it in the living room?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?” my aunt replied. “This will be front and center at the shop. Everyone should see this.”
Because my gift came in a box similar in shape and size, I knew that I’d been given a photograph as well. As I unwrapped it, I silently prayed that it wasn’t a picture of me, something he’d sneakily taken when I hadn’t been paying attention. As a general rule, I disliked photos of myself, let alone a photo taken while I was in baggy sweats or ugly pants with my hair being blown in every direction.