Olivia patted Anna’s shoulder. “She means well, dear. Some of us just aren’t trainable.”
Grace had expected a grab-bag of funny mugs and regifted candles, but the pile under her little silver tree was impressive: wrapped boxes in Caroline’s signature gold-and-white, a bag with tissue paper exploding from the top, Anna, a box that looked suspiciously like it had been wrapped by Bryant himself, tape everywhere, corners lumpy, and a tastefully minimalist package that had Olivia’s handwriting on the tag.
As the host, Grace was forced to go first. She opened Olivia’s gift: a scarf of deep green silk, cold and smooth in her hands. The note said simply, “For the next time you want to hide in plain sight.” Grace touched it to her neck and felt her eyes sting, just for a second.
Anna’s gift was a set of locally made bath bombs, each one labeled with a different “oceanic mood.” Grace snorted at the “Tidal Meltdown” and “Brackish Mystery,” but when she popped the lid the scents were enough to make her dizzy with want. “You’re trying to make me smell like you, aren’t you?” she accused.
Anna shrugged. “You could do worse.”
Caroline, never subtle, handed Grace a velvet jewelry box. Inside was a necklace with a glass snowflake on a heavy silver chain. The snowflake sparkled, catching the morning light and scattering it around the kitchen. “You can wear it next year when you’re the Grand Marshal of the town parade,” Caroline said, as if this was a foregone conclusion.
Grace choked. “You want me to ride on a float? In a tiara?”
Caroline raised an eyebrow. “If anyone deserves a tiara in this town, it’s you. Besides, it’ll drive the mayor insane.”
Bryant’s gift was the one that made Grace pause. The wrapping was all wrong—paper torn from a grocery bag, taped shut with blue painter’s tape. Inside was a chess set, but not the plastic one she’d been using. This one was weighty, marble and wood, the pieces elegant and old-fashioned. The box was lined in blue felt. A post-it, stuck to the inside, read: “For the next time you want to lose on purpose.”
She looked up and caught Bryant’s gaze. He shrugged, but his ears were red. “You said you liked playing.”
“I do,” she said, softer than she meant to. “Thank you.”
“Open yours next,” Anna urged, pushing a lumpy bag toward Bryant. He extracted a tin of cookies labeled “Guaranteed Not to Kill You,” a pair of Christmas socks with dogs in Santa hats, and a paperback crime novel with a lurid cover.
“Thought you could use some lighter reading,” Anna said. “The last book on your end table was the Owner’s Manual for a 2009 Dodge Ram.”
He grinned, flipping the book over. “This might be above my reading level, but I’ll give it a try.”
Caroline got a bottle of “seasonal” gin from Olivia, “It’s infused with spruce tips and disappointment,” Olivia said, and a matching set of cocktail glasses with “Drama Queen” etched in gold on the side. She promptly mixed herself a drink to test it out.
Anna’s present from Caroline was a scarf in the colors of the Chicago Cubs, which Anna immediately wound around her neck, declaring it “hideous and perfect.” She also got a jar of pickled herring, which she unwrapped and threatened everyone with.
Olivia’s gifts were more understated, fancy lotion, a sleek black notebook, and a box of gourmet marshmallows that she claimed she’d never eat because “marshmallows are vulgar.” But Grace caught her later, popping one into her coffee and looking almost blissful.
Finally, Grace dug out the package she’d wrapped for Bryant. It was a set of two oversized mugs, one that said “Two Houses…” and the other “One Coffee Habit…” She’d ordered them as a joke, but the look on Bryant’s face when he unwrapped the “One Coffee Habit…” mug was worth every second. He held it up, showing off the awful, lopsided font.
Caroline cackled. “You’re practically married now.”
Bryant just smiled. “Guess I’ll have to move my coffee machine over here.”
The kitchen was chaos for a while. Gifts being passed around, commentary, the sound of carols layered over arguments about whether die-hard New Englanders were more likely to poison each other over sports or politics. Grace drifted, content, refilling her own mug and watching the people in her house as if she could memorize the moment and replay it forever.
But as the last presents were opened and the wrapping paper had been trampled into festive confetti, Olivia pointed at the foot of the tree. “There’s one more,” she said, “unless you’re hoarding gifts, Grace.”
Grace frowned. “I’m not. That’s… weird.” The package was small, no bigger than a ring box, wrapped in glossy red paper with a white ribbon. The tag just said “To Grace,” nothing else. She looked around the table. “Whose is it?”
Anna shrugged. “Not me.”
Caroline gave a regal little shake. “Honey, when I give presents, I want you to know who to thank.”
Olivia just raised both eyebrows. “Not my color palette.”
Bryant shook his head. “I didn’t leave anything under there. Promise.”
The box sat on her palm, light as air. “Maybe one of you bought it and forgot?” she said, but even as she spoke, the idea felt wrong.
She glanced up at Bryant, who had gone very still.
Anna grinned. “Maybe it’s a secret admirer.”
