Grace’s smile turned momentarily shy. She turned to Mick. “And for you…”
He unwrapped a small, handmade leather wallet. Inside, neatly tucked into one slot, was a gift card to a hobby store.
“For your bottle ships,” Grace said.
Mick looked at it for a long moment. Alix held her breath, suddenly worried about what he might say. Her father was a man of very, very few words. Then, quietly he exhaled and smiled. “That’s real good, kiddo. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Grace said.
Alix’s heart did a full, swooping flip. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father look that moved, and certainly not by anyone outside the family.
Then came Matt’s turn. Grace handed him a small square box. “You were hard to shop for, but Alix said you were into music.”
He ripped the paper off, revealing a sleek set of guitar strings and a patch for his denim jacket embroidered with a howling wolf. “Dude,” he said, grinning. “That’s sick.”
Alix snorted. “I’ll have you all know I suggested nothing. She just has psychic-level good taste.”
Grace’s cheeks reddened. “I just wanted to make sure you all know how thankful I am to be here. Alix, here’s yours.”
Grace handed her a box, perfectly wrapped with forty-five-degree corner folds. Alix’s insides swooped like they were on a roller coaster.
She opened the wrapping carefully, only because it felt wrong to rip Grace’s hard work. The box was plain, and she popped it open to find a custom painted moka pot, designed to look like their mornings in Aunt Sylvia’s backyard with palm trees and a tangerine and raspberry sunrise. Very subtle doodles of scissors lined the bottom half, and near the handle was a tiny hand-drawn gator next to a sketch of Baby. There was also a matching mug and a jar of Cuban coffee.
“This is stunning,” Alix said.
“What is it?” Helen asked.
“When we were in Miami, Grace taught me how to make Cuban coffee using this, a cafetera, and it was basically the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Alix explained.
Grace was beaming. “She was a quick learner. She even taught the dog.”
Everyone looked mildly confused for a moment until Grace clapped with an idea. “We can make it for everyone,” she said excitedly.
Alix wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in to kiss the hair over her temple. “Thank you, Grace. This is perfect.”
“Okay,” Helen said, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. “That’s it. She’s one of us. No take-backs.”
“Agreed,” Susan said cheerfully, lifting her coffee mug. “Cheers to finally having a lawyer in the family.”
“Cheers,” Steve echoed.
The twins looked up for half a second. “Cheers,” they said in perfect monotone before going back to their screens.
Alix laughed, warmth blooming through her chest. She gave Grace a squeeze, murmuring near her ear, “You’re showing me up, Gator.”
Grace leaned back just enough to whisper, “Just rising to the occasion.”
A camera flash startled Alix, and she glanced up to see that her mom was using her new Instax, pointed directly at them as a photo printed out. “So cute,” her mom was murmuring.
“I’m going to have to add more pages to the zine,” Alix said, holding the small polaroid photo in her hand as the image developed, revealing a picture of the two of them speaking low and close, nothing else existing in the world.
When the wrapping paper had finally stopped flying and cafecitos had been delivered and gushed over — her dad had requested a second cup — Helen clapped her hands together. “All right, before anyone disappears, it’s family picture time!”
Alix groaned. “Mom, it’s, like, eight in the morning.”
“It’s my gift,” Helen said. “Susan, press that small button.”
Susan, halfway through a cinnamon roll, sighed but stood up. “Everyone squeeze in. You know how she gets.”
