She’d only know the richer Iceland that had come with the Americans. Which was good—Tatiana would be the first to say how glad she was that their economy had turned up so dramatically, given that it had allowed her to come to the city and chase her dream.
But she treasured all those memories of her own childhood. The ones built around finding ingeniousways to use every scrap, to create what they could never afford to buy. To read and tell stories because radios were too expensive, and small villages didn’t have things like movie houses.
Anders made a show of sniffing one of the candles. “Oh, good. Not made from tallow. It would have been dangerous to put these out for Kertasnikir to steal otherwise. At the very least, you’d find some teeth marks in them tomorrow morning.”
Elea made a face. “Who wants to eatcandles?”
“Not spoiled little girls who have plenty of food to eat instead. But for a troll? Yum.” Anders made as if to take a bite of one, which set Elea to giggling.
He’d be such a good father someday.
Tatiana’s pulse hammered at the thought. Until a week ago, she would have wondered with more than a tinge of jealousy what lucky woman would eventually overcome his bashfulness and convince him to propose. Now... it could be her. Maybe, if things went as she hoped they would, if he kept looking at her with his heart in his eyes... maybeshe’dbe the one who got to hold his heart. The one to walk through life by his side. Her children who could call him Pabbi.
She wanted it. She wanted it more than any presentthat could ever be put under a tree. Even though it had only been a week since they started down this path, even though he’d yet to even kiss her, she knew. He was the only man she’d ever met that she could imagine marrying. Spending the rest of her life with.
She’d been falling in love with him step by step, letter by letter this past year, after admiring him for years before that but deeming him unknowable.
Tying the last ribbon on the tree, Tatiana watched as Anders drew out her gold-painted star and gathered Elea in his arms so he could lift her to more easily reach the tip of the tree. Once she pushed it into place, they all clapped and cheered.
“Glethileg jol,”she said. It truly felt like Christmas now, with juniper scenting the air and the star gleaming from the top of her little tree, with the lingering aroma of leaf bread and cookies coming from the kitchen, with her flat adorned and laughter filling it.
“Merry Christmas,” Elea shouted in return.
Anders laughed and put her down, making a show of rubbing his ear. “I think all of Iceland heard you.”
“Good! I wish themalla merry Christmas.” She twirled around the center of the room and then grinnedup at Tatiana. “Can I put my party dress on now? Can I? Can I?”
“All right.” It was still awfully early, but why not? And while her niece dashed off and Anders settled with a contented sigh on her sofa, she decided she might as well make use of the opportunity. “So, tomorrow.”
His face froze in that way it always did when he seemed to think bad news was coming. “You’ve decided not to come.”
“No!” She laughed, shaking her head. Why did he alwaysdothat? “I am most definitely coming to your mother’s. You can’t rescind the invitation now.”
His eyes went wide. “I wasn’t—” At her next laugh, he sighed. “You know that.”
“I do.” She reached out and rested her hand on his wrist. “I was only going to say that... that I’d rather give you your gift beforehand, if that’s all right. Or after. But... here, not there. So perhaps you could come a bit early to pick us up? Or you could plan to stay a bit after you bring us home again, after dinner.”
“Or... both?” A single corner of his lips pulled up, hope—and a bit of daring—sparkling in his eyes.
A week ago, he wouldn’t have dared to ask. She grinned. She’d eventually convince him to stopsecond-guessing this. Her. Them. But it could well take a while. Another week, at least. But perhaps, if all went well, by the time the calendar turned to 1945, he’d be ready to put more faith in them. “Both sounds perfect.” Unable to resist, she reached out and ran her fingertips down the festive red tie he wore with his best gray suit. “Look at you, in something other than your usual blue tie.”
“A nod to the occasion. Fair warning—I’ll be wearing it again tomorrow. Unless I spill something on it tonight. In which case I’ll have to hope it’ll come clean and be dry by tomorrow, because if I show up to my mother’snotwearing the tie she gave me last year, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
She smiled into his grin. “A mother’s prerogative.”
“I’d never say otherwise.” He glanced down at her sturdy gray wool skirt. “I’m going to venture a guess that you haven’t dressed for the party yet.”
Her smile might have gone a little mischievous. “What? You don’t think this is appropriate?”
He narrowed his eyes, cheeks only flushing a little. “The flour might at least need to be brushed off first. Though you look beautiful in anything.”
She’d never been gladder that she’d splurged on aproper party dress last year, after Christmas, and had been saving it all this time. New clothes were a luxury she rarely indulged—no one did, these days, with so much of the world’s fabric going to the war effort. But the red gown in the secondhand shop had called her name, and it had been marked down, and... well, she had no regrets. “I’ll go put my hair up and then change. I told Aunt Beta that we might come a bit early to lend a hand with any last-minute details, if we had the time.”
“I’ll entertain myself at your bookshelf.”
Elea emerged from the bedroom as Tatiana was walking toward the bathroom. After giving a twirl in her own party dress—remade from one of Ari’s old dresses, if she was identifying the fabric correctly—she dashed after Tatiana. “Can I have a crown braid for tonight?”
“Absolutely.”
