Austin peered down into the cabinet. “How does it work?”
“Kids!” Claudia said with a snort. She picked up the tone arm and dropped it onto the vinyl. “See, Austin. There’s a needle at the end of this arm, and it slips into a groove on the record, and then the music comes out of the speakers.”
A second later the mellow sounds of Bing Crosby crooning “White Christmas” came floating through the speakers.
“Seems appropriate,” Murphy murmured, pointing to the window, where white flakes were floating past outside.
“Nowcan we open presents?” Austin pleaded.
“On Christmas Eve?” Heinz frowned. “Is that permissible?”
“Austin is going to Gretchen’s parents’ house tomorrow morning, so the rule is, he gets to open one gift tonight,” Patrick said.
The boy sprawled out on the floor at the base of the tree and retrieved a lumpy gold foil package that had been wrapped with yardsof cellophane tape and multiple colors of ribbons as well as dragon stickers.
“The oldest person in the room opens the first present,” Austin declared, handing the gift to Heinz.
“For me?” Heinz’s hands trembled slightly as he slowly removed the tape and paper and ribbon.
“Hurry up!” Austin urged, standing at the old man’s shoulder.
Finally, the paper fell away, revealing a clay creature with scales running down its back, a long, forked tail, and a cartoonish head with fangs.
“It’s a dragon,” Heinz said, turning the creature back and forth.
“I made it myself. But I’m not such a good draw-er as you and Kerry,” Austin said.
“It’s marvelous,” Heinz said. “It’s the best present anyone has ever given me.”
Austin’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Really?”
“Absolutely,” the old man assured him. “Thank you, young friend.”
Austin plucked a small box from beneath the tree. “Murphy, you go next cuz I think you’re the next oldest.”
“Actually, I’m two years older than him,” Claudia said with a chuckle. “But go ahead and open it, anyway.”
Murphy slit the tape on the box with a penknife, opened it, and lifted out a single key with a golden tassel attached. He glanced over at Claudia, who shot him a knowing smile, then he wordlessly tucked the key into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt.
“You’re next,” he told her, pointing to a wooden cigar box tied with a red satin bow.
Claudia unfastened the bow, opened the box, and lifted out a small carved wooden figure, about six inches tall, nestled in tissue paper.
“It’s Santa,” Austin said.
“Look closer,” Murphy advised.
The figure had a dark, raggedy beard and a riot of untamed hair. He wore a red-and-black-checked shirt, jeans, and hunting boots. But the giveaway was the Christmas tree slung over his shoulder.
“No way! It’s Murphy,” Austin crowed.
Claudia threw her arms around Murphy’s neck and kissed him soundly. “It’s perfect! Did you carve it yourself?”
“It’s nothing much, really,” Murphy said, blushing. “I had time on my hands while I was sitting around the stand at night, so I kinda just started whittling on a chunk of cedar. I used Kerry’s markers to color it with. Just something to remember me by after I’ve gone back south.”
“As if I could ever forget Murphy Tolliver,” Claudia said, kissing him again.
“There’s another gift under the tree there for Murphy.” Heinz pointed to a flat rectangular package wrapped in brown paper.
