Chapter 12

A lex and I arrived in the special dining room off The Antlers, and apologized over and over. But everyone, dressed in special Christmas sweaters, was as calm as could be, drinking what smelled like amazing coffee and chatting over slices of toast and butter and jam.

I felt out of place as I sat down (for all the usual reasons and especially because I had no Christmas sweater), but I made sure to be on my best manners. Napkin in my lap, no elbows on the table, and stuff. I did eat with my finger, but only the toast and bacon. The scrambled eggs, I ate with a fork. Go me!

The food was amazing, and the Westmores were as welcoming that morning as they’d been the evening before.

And soon we were on to the presents portion of the morning. Forgot to mention, they were in the corner, and by that I mean PILED beneath a tiny Christmas tree—a real one, of course, that smelled amazing—that had been put up on a table covered with a soft white cloth.

No Christmas sweater to wear, and now this. I had nothing to add to the festivities. But Alex, who was sitting next to me at the festive table, nudged me with his elbow, and then pointed with his chin to the pile of presents.

“What?” I asked him in a stage-whisper hiss because I could see the pile of presents.

“You got the Westmore family a Harry & David basket,” he said, in a low, less aggravated whisper.

Now I could see it. An enormous sturdy basket with large clumps of things stuffed in it. Stuff like cheese, and cookies and a box of pears, and more things than that. The crumple stuff-paper was silver, and there were even sprigs of evergreen in there.

I’d seen the Harry & David catalog at the Thackery house a week or so back. Jonah and Royce had been discussing which gift basket to send to everybody who’d been in the Fresh Start Program, as well as one for Leland Tate, who’d organized the whole thing.

“That’s almost thirty baskets,” said Jonah, a worried scowl on his forehead. “That’s three thousand dollars.”

“So?” asked Royce, because, to him, as always, money was no object.

I did the math, and it meant that each basket was around a hundred bucks. Was the delivery charge included in that? I had no idea. But what I did know was that those hundred dollar baskets of stuff were a lot smaller than the basket I was staring at now. It was as tall as a small child.

I didn’t ask Alex how much I’d supposedly spent because it wouldn’t matter, and the Westmore family would surely know I’d not been the one to get it for them. Still, it was a nice gesture, and I did the appropriate thing and said, “Thank you.” And meant it.

After breakfast was cleared away (and by cleared, every dish was removed, the table was wiped down, and a lacy white tablecloth was laid down). Tim made himself useful by handing out presents. He was so much a Westmore that he made a big deal, right off the bat, by bringing over the basket I’d supposedly bought for the family.

“Look at this,” he said. “Wow, Beck, this is amazing!”

Christ, he sounded so sincere, I believe he meant it. As did the rest of the Westmores as they oohed and aahed over it. And started picking out a cookie or a bit of strudel or a fancy pear to eat. Now that’s what I call nice because they were really enjoying the gift, and nobody called me out on it.

Then came more presents. It was like an avalanche of presents and wrapping paper and oodles of good cheer. I didn’t remember all of what everyone got, except that Baby Ginny got her silver spoon from Uncle Alex and promptly stuck it in her mouth the second it came out of its fancy white box. Brother Tim got a felt cowboy hat that looked expensive, and Lottie got a beautiful set of glittery earrings that were, of course, expensive, this being a Westmore Christmas.

I was most interested in what Alex got, which was new leather shoes, and a cashmere scarf, a date book for the coming year. Someone, perhaps hearing about how Alex had had to wear his snow-crumpled fancy shoes for a whole two days, had purchased a set of leather boots, complete with a fur coming out of the top. They were kind of a joke, but they looked warm and if Alex would only wear them, I promised myself I would only tease him a little.

Then, in the midst of this, he turned to me with a bit of a grimace.

“Here it comes,” he said.

That’s when Tim started delivering presents to me . Luckily, other Westmores were still unwrapping their gifts, both from each other and from Santa, so I was able to hide behind the flurry of wrapping paper while I unwrapped some for myself.

A sweater, white, cabled, Irish, from Mr. and Mrs. Westmore.

A blue cashmere scarf from Lottie and her hubby, Pete.

A book about skiing from Not-So-Tiny Tim.

He shrugged at me as if to apologize for the hasty gift, but I’ll wager the gift shop at the hotel had been all that’d been open, plus the selection had probably been limited, so I gave him the thumbs up and said, “I’ve always wanted to learn more about skiing! Thanks, Tim.”

“This is from me and Baby Ginny,” said Alex. He held out two slender boxes. The first one held soft leather gloves, and the second one held puffy insulated gloves.

“It’s so lame,” he said, blushing hard. “But that’s all they had left that I thought you’d like. And you needed gloves. Your hands were freezing from the moment I met you.”

“Thank you,” I said, drawing out a glove from each box and putting them on, leather on the left, puffy and soft on the right. “I’ve kind of always gone without gloves, so I forget they exist.”

That had come out of my big mouth rather loud, and every single Westmore heard me. Their expressions were kind, but not pitying, thank fuck, cause I would have run out of the room if I thought they felt sorry for me. But no, they acted like Alex had solved a problem for me and now we could all move on.

Then Alex’s phone rang and though Mrs. Alex’s Mom looked rather stern and started to say something about it being Christmas morning, Alex answered. He got up and went to the doorway and stood there with his back to us, talking intently.

“Sure, Mr. Shimizu, I’ll be there. We’ll get the New Year started off right and get all the paperwork signed.”

When he turned to us, his cell phone was clasped in his hands like a prayer book. (Not that I’ve ever held one, it’s just something I’ve seen in movies.)

“Tell me you’re not going,” said Jasmine. She had a scarf around her neck, a warm, soft red, but even still, she was not someone I’d be willing to cross, and yet here, brave Alex was doing just that.

“In a few days, Mom,” he said. “Just for a week or so.”

“It’s that important, son?” asked Nate.

“This is the last hurdle to that fabulous location in downtown Tokyo,” said Alex. Before I had time to think about how soon we’d be separated, he turned to me and asked, “And maybe Beck would like to come with me?”

“Me with you?” I asked. I was shocked and didn’t have time to hide it so I could be cool Bad Boy Beck and act like I did not not give a shit about what anyone was doing. Or the fact that I’d been invited to go with him to Japan. “I don’t have a passport.”

“Is that your only objection?” Alex asked me, looking at me in a way that told me he was focused to the point of blocking out everything else in that room. That he’d wait an eternity for me to answer. Maybe longer. That he really wanted me to go with him.

“Yep,” I said, confident in that, at least, though I was less confident in anything else. Passports take weeks to get. Didn’t they?

“Have Beck fill out the online form, Alex,” said Nate. “I’ll call down to the CBP and get it rushed through.”

“You can use my computer,” said Tim.

“Thank goodness that’s settled,” said Lottie as she stood up with Baby Ginny in her arms and went over to him. “Tokyo is great and all, but it can be lonely if you travel there alone.”

“I’ve been there half a dozen times,” said Alex in a sibling-to-sibling tone. “I am a CEO in the company, you know.”

“Yes, yes, we all know,” said Lottie, and she saved it from being a mean tease with a smile and a kiss to his cheek. Then she looked at me so sweetly and asked me, “Would you like to say hello to Baby Ginny?”

This was a test. Of course it was. I knew that as I got up and went over to them. It was a test to see how I reacted to a blob of flesh with zero personality, and also one that drooled.

Except Baby Ginny drooled only a little bit, and as she squirmed cutely in her mother’s arms, she smiled at me, her eyes as bright as starlight, with a shine in them that must be only seen in a baby’s eyes. She was dressed simply, in a white shift of some kind, wrapped in a soft pink blanket, and she had a pink ribbon on her nearly bald head.

“Do you want to hold her?” asked Alex. His voice came as if from far away, and I (finally) got the feeling that none of this was a challenge or a test. They just wanted me to say hello. So I did.

“Hell, no,” I said as I touched the tiny little hand with its miniature fingers. Then I said, as softly as I could, “Hello, Baby Ginny. When you get older, I can tell you about how I rescued your Uncle Alex from certain death.”

“Oh, my,” said Lottie. She pulled Baby Ginny away from me, and then laughed a little, and resettled the tiny thing in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” said. “I’m not very used to babies. Let me try again.”

“Sure,” she said, in a motherly way.

“Hey, little baby,” I said. “Did you enjoy your silver spoon? Your Uncle Alex picked it out especially, and it was the only thing—” I stopped, having learned that for some reason talking about Alex almost dying wasn’t the right thing to say. “It was the only thing he brought with him, especially for you.”

She looked at me with deep blue eyes, which must be a Westmore thing, and her expression was so serious, she made me laugh.

“She does that,” said Mama Lottie. “So serious. Like a judge or something. But I think she likes you.”

I had a feeling that if I stuck around, eventually the baby would be put into my arms and I’d be expected to hold it safely and not drop it. Not drop her . Baby Ginny was pretty cute, and I knew if I got the chance, I’d hold her and protect her from anything I could.

“Come sit back down, Lottie,” said Nate. “And let me hold the baby.”

We all sat back down, and the baby was handed around, and Jasmine called for fresh coffee and for the wrapping paper to be cleared away. Tim ran upstairs to bring his laptop back down. I used it to fill out the online application for a brand new passport, gave the confirm number to Mr. Westmore Senior, and turned my attention to Alex.

“Are you wiped out yet?” he asked.

“Oh my god, yes,” I said.

Our heads were bent together and everybody’s attention was on each other, which gave us a little pocket of privacy.

“You really want me to come with you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I think you’d like it and I sure would will enjoy your company.”

He meant it. I’d learned that much about him, that he said what he meant and he meant what he said. He walked the walk and talked the talk, and everything about him was upright, steadfast, and kind.

“When do we leave?” I asked.

“In a couple of days, after Dad gets that passport expedited.”

“He can do that?” I asked, astonished. Well, rich people could do what they liked, couldn’t they.

“He knows people,” said Alex, and left it at that.

“Maybe we could get another soak in before we leave,” I said.

“At least one,” said Alex. “Every night if we can.”

“I know people,” I said, pretending to be mysterious as I pointed with my chin at Jasmine, who was busy talking to two members of staff at once.

Alex laughed and he looked like he wanted to kiss me or hug me. I’d be up for either, but later, when we were alone. I still wasn’t used to the wholesome camaraderie of the Westmores, and besides, I liked to enjoy my kisses in private.

“We’re going to step out and get some fresh air, guys,” said Alex standing. His expression said he wanted me to stand, as well, so I did.

“Come back in time for lunch,” said Nate. “We’re going to that Italian place your mother liked last year.”

“Mazzola’s,” said Tim, sounding like he had started salivating at the mere thought of the place.

“We will,” I said boldly, cause I was always up for Italian food, day or night.

“We will,” said Alex. He winked at me and I guess he was figuring out how much I loved food. “We’ll get noodles in Japan,” he said. “We’ll go to the busiest crosswalk in the world. We’ll have a great time.”

“I’m already having a great time,” I said, and if that wasn’t the purest truth, I don’t know what would be.

We left the small dining room, made our way through the quite busy restaurant, and found our way to the front exit. When we opened the front doors to the hotel, a blast of cold air met us that was refreshing. I cupped my hands together and blew on them.

“You didn’t bring your gloves,” he said, half scolding me.

“Neither did you,” I said, then I took his hands, cupped them in mine, and blew on them. And added, “We’ll remember next time.”

“Both of us,” he said.

He dipped his chin and I looked up in to his blue eyes and thought about how lucky I was. And what a good Christmas it was turning out to be. Plus, I had Alex’s company to look forward to, and that was the best gift of all.