Emery laughed and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “We shouldn’t get you all worked up. Even if I sort of love you all worked up…”
“Too late for sweet talk,” I said, echoing our conversation from the other day. “Now I’m mad.”
“Mm, I’ll have to make it up to you later.”
She laid a soft kiss under my ear as I sipped my cider and watched the party happening around me. My dad looked as happy as I’d seen him in years, wearing the ugly scarf he’d won in the white elephant gift exchange wrapped around his neck.
“Come, Xander!” he said suddenly, getting to his feet. “Let’s play for these fine friends of yours.”
“Oh, I don’t think so…”
Emery nudged my arm. “You play the piano? You never told me!”
“Only a little and I’m not very good,” I said. “If we want to hear real piano playing, we should get Harper up there. She’s the maestro.”
“Oh no, I’m not letting you off the hook,” Harper said with a laugh.
“Stop dragging your feet, Alexander, and come play for your friends. Schubert’sFantasiein F Minor duet, if you please!”
“He can playonly a littleSchubert.” Harper snorted as Emery sat beside her on the floor, cross-legged.
Reluctantly, I joined my dad at the piano.
“Now, this duet is a conversation between thesecondo—Xander—and theprimo—myself. He’ll be responsible for the technical weight of the piece, while I get to have all the fun.” Dad wagged his eyebrows.He gave me a nod and lifted his hands in a flourish, then brought them back down…where they trembled like leaves over the keys. “Oh dear.”
He tried a few notes, but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate.
“Oh, it’s okay, Dad,” I said tightly. “Maybe you’re just…tired.”
He chuckled nervously and clasped his shaking hands together. “That must be it.” He turned on the bench to address my friends. “My apologies. Seems I’m having a bit of an episode.”
I looked helplessly to Emery and Harper. Emery jumped up to help my dad back to the couch, and Harper slid onto the piano bench and began a rousing rendition of “Twelve Days of Christmas.”
Everyone sang along, including my dad, who, within seconds, was cheerful and laughing, as if he’d forgotten all about the incident.
No.Becausehe’d forgotten all about it.
***
Later that night, our friends went home after telling my father over and over what an honor it had been. He went to bed exhausted but happy, and I prayed he’d remember how they talked about his accomplishments and breakthroughs, his legacy while on this earth.
Harper was the last to go, insisting on helping to clean up, and then it was just me and Emery.
“Come on,” she said, taking my hand. “Time for your present. Yourrealpresent.”
“Oh, I think the industrial-sized tub of cheese balls I won at the white elephant is gift enough.”
She giggled as we went upstairs to my room. “You’re just jealous of my pickle-shaped ornament with Nicholas Cage’s face on it.”
“I tried to get that, actually. Trade?”
“Over my dead body. And you don’t even know who Nicholas Cage is.” She laughed and pushed me to sit on my bed. “Wait one sec.”
I watched as Emery pulled my curtain aside and retrieved a flat,rectangular gift, about the size of a dinner mat, wrapped in white paper with a red bow.
“I stashed this yesterday when I was decorating.” She set it in my lap and sat beside me.
“It’s heavy,” I said, guessing a photo or painting. I unwrapped the gift and stared, my heart trying to climb out of my throat.
