Tatiana had been making do with a knife to cut the intricate pattern since she moved to the city, but as they’d plotted out their baking on Sunday, Elea had been appalled at the idea of freehanding it. And given Tatiana’s admittedly lacking artistic skills, it was a fair point. She’d sent some money with one of the secretaries who left for lunch yesterday and had her pick one up for her.
Now she grinned. “Amazing how those Yule Lads know just what we need, isn’t it?” She reached into her own shoe and feigned surprise. “And cookie cutters too! We will be all set for our baking.”
Elea gave her a quick hug and then dashed toward the phone. “I’m going to call Mamma and tell her.”
The calls had gotten easier on the girl as the days went by, and Tatiana was glad of it. Glad to see her looking forward to the moments with her parents on the phone instead of crying at the sound of the voicesthat were too far away. “All right. I’m going to go down and collect yesterday’s post. I forgot last night.”
“BecauseAnderswas with us,” her niece taunted with a laugh. She picked up the receiver and dialed the exchange, an old hand at it by now.
Tatiana grabbed a discarded piece of paper from the end table, balled it up, and lobbed it at Elea’s head, earning her more laughter.
Though she wasn’t wrong. It was indeed Anders’s presence that had made her completely forget her usual stop at the letter boxes in the lobby.
And as she pulled out the parcel wrapped in brown paper with Anders’s own handwriting on the front, she thanked the Lord above that she hadn’t paused here last night with him beside her... and wondered if she’d been a fool to have Tandri Ebbisson’s mail forwarded to her here from the postbox. When she’d put in the order two months ago, it had seemed a time-saving step with no possible repercussions.
But now?Idiot!It wasn’t just that Anders could get a glimpse of her pseudonym, but that Elea very easily could, and then what? She could explain to her niece and swear her to secrecy... but that was hardly fair tothe girl. How could she ask her to keep a secret from her parents?
Thankfully, Elea was still chatting happily on the phone when Tatiana regained her flat. They set a ten-minute limit each day, since it was long-distance, and Elea had no doubt checked the clock as they were connected. By Tatiana’s guess, there were probably six or seven minutes left, at least.
Plenty of time. She slipped into the bedroom and closed the door, then quickly unwrapped the parcel and stashed the incriminating paper in the bottom of her wastebasket. But then she frowned. It was... copies of her book. But that made no sense. He’d already sent her her author copies, all but one of which she’d hidden away. Why would he send her three more?
A note was tucked into the topmost one, its edge just barely visible. She tugged it out, exhaling slowly as she read.
Tandri,
I do hope this isn’t too presumptuous—but as I’ve been debating what gifts to give some of my favorite people, I’ve decided that your book is sure to bring them the smiles that I love to see on theirfaces. Could I trouble you for your signature on these? I’ve included return postage, tucked into the final book. If you’re willing, please make one out to Gilla (my mother), Ada (my sister), and Tatiana (a very special someone) with whatever message you think is best. They’ll be delighted, I know. To prove myself of pure motivations here and not just trying to leverage our acquaintance, you’ll note that I restrained myself and didn’t include my own copy to be made out to me. If, however, this is overstepping, you can of course just return the books unsigned.
May your Christmas be filled with joy.
Your friend,
Anders
Tatiana sank onto the edge of her bed, thoughts too muddled to make sense of them at first. There was the pleasure, to be sure—he thought so highly of her book that he wanted to give it as gifts to his mother and sister! Then...her. He’d called her “a very special someone.” And wanted to give her a signed copy of her own book.
Gracious, but this was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Shecouldn’t... she couldn’t just sign a book to herself, that would be absurd.
She had to tell him.
She couldn’t justtellhim.
She should... do... something. But what?
And wait, Elea had said he wasn’t “getting” her something, but wasn’t this exactly that? He was not only getting her a book—which she could have gotten herself easily enough—but getting it signed—which he would assume shecouldn’tso easily get for herself.
It was thoughtful. And if he were to present her with anyotherbook signed by its reclusive author, she’d be over the moon with delight.
But her own? Maybe she should just do it, to avoid the question. Sign it and send it back and then... feign surprise and delight? She didn’t know if she was so good an actress.
From beyond her door, she could hear Elea singing a verse of one of her favorite Christmas songs, as she did each day before saying goodbye. Which meant Tatiana had no time to actually sort this out now. She dropped to her knees on the floor, pulled out one of the lidded boxes she stored under the bed and in whichshe kept correspondence, and dropped the books and note inside.
She’d deal with them later. Tonight, after Anders had once more joined them for soup and bread and the fish he’d promised to bring with him. After he’d gone and Elea was preparing for bed, she’d pull it back out, take the whole box out to her desk. Elea was accustomed to her tending her correspondence in the evenings, after she’d tucked her in. She’d certainly sign the ones for his mother and sister, using the signature that she’d practiced and used on the notes she sent to him with her edited pages. She’d rewrap them and use the postage he’d included, then just drop the package in a letter box for pickup. Easy enough.
Except for that third copy.
Bother.Later, she’d sort out what to do about that later. For now she stashed the box back under her bed and emerged again from her bedroom just as Elea was saying goodbye. The porridge still had a few minutes to cook, so Tatiana edged past her niece toward the bathroom to take the rollers from her hair. “How’s everything at home?”
“Good.” Elea leaned into the open doorway and watched her take out the rollers, releasing her hair intocurls. “Mamma says Pabbi got a good report from the doctor yesterday and should be ready to go back out on the boat after Christmas. And he can walk a little now, just not for long. And Mamma says the baby’s been kicking like crazy and bruising her insides.”
