46. Epilogue

Next Christmas

My wife's laughter is the best Christmas gift. It rises from our kitchen, mixed with her twin's softer laugh and our daughter's giggle. At first, I teased her for her ‘early to bed, early to rise' routine, wishing she would stay in bed longer, but waking up to the smell of fresh baked apple pies isn't so bad.

I pull on my Santa jacket over my flannel pajamas. Along the way downstairs, I enjoy all seven of our Christmas trees. Mom was thrilled when I asked her to find full suites of ornaments so that we could have a rainbow tree, a snowflake tree, and a peppermint tree. Ruby's room has a pony tree, Elijah decorated one with angels and nativities, and Mal covered one entirely in glitter ornaments, which sheds like a month-long glitter bomb.

My favorite is in our bedroom, top-to-bottom in Santa ornaments. Grace said it's excessive. I reminded her that I'm extra. She made me promise not to go so overboard next year. I told her I'm not great at keeping my promises if it means I get to see her smile.

Elijah swooned. Mallory gagged.

As I hop down the stairs, my heart skips a beat at the scene in our kitchen: my wife and my brother-in-law, singing Christmas carols together. Ruby stands on a stool between Elijah's arms, both their hands on the rolling pin as he demonstrates how to roll out the pie crust. They're wearing holiday aprons, Elijah's early gift: Grace's is Mrs. Claus, Elijah is an elf, and Ruby's is a unicorn-reindeer. My Santa apron hangs on its hook next to the oven .

When Ruby sees me, her face lights up and she squeezes out from under Elijah's arms to run to me. I lift her up and spin, and she giggles and says, "Merry Christmas, Daddy. You don't have to wear your pretend suit today, the real Santa told me he usually spends Christmas sleeping."

"It's so cozy, is it ok if I wear it for one more day?"

She nods in agreement and heads back to her uncle while I grab an apple and start turning the coring machine. I swear, our house has become an unlicensed apple pie bakery for every unit in the hospital, including a dedicated pie for Dr. Tran. I got the girl, so I guess he can have his own pie.

Grace slides a pie out of the oven — I don't think I'll ever tire of that view of her ass. The pan wobbles as she sees me working in my official Santa jacket and bursts out laughing. I pretend to be offended that she would laugh at her hardworking, diligent husband.

Husband, that still sounds so good.

She wraps her arms around my waist under the Santa jacket. This suit has gotten me major action this holiday season. I would have volunteered for all the Santa events just to make her happy. But knowing that every time I don the suit, she'll take it off me with that look in her eye? This Santa has had a packed calendar.

From the hallway, mariachi music echoes. I groan dramatically and abandon my apples to pour a cup of coffee. Mal bought an old boombox at a thrift shop, along with a cassette tape of 'Feliz Navidad.' My sister, my wife, my brother-in-law and my daughter yell full volume and spin each other in ridiculous dance moves for the full three minutes and three seconds.

Not that I have a silent countdown of how long this song is.

I've been going to meditation classes at their studio, and while they wail, I remind myself: Grace inexplicably agreed to spend the rest of her life with me. I can endure the next three minutes and three seconds of this for her.

It almost makes up for the screeching.

Next to arrive are my parents, who picked up Ruby's grandma Jean. We see her a few times a month, either for dinner or Ruby's preschool recitals. Ruby skips to give her a warm hug, and also greets my parents, who have become her Oma and Opa .

Carol and Terry arrive next, since they're staying with my parents for the holidays. At first, Mom resented giving up hosting Christmas, but we have to host, legally. That had been one of Carol's contingencies of the sale of their house: a Christmas invitation in perpetuity, to watch the next generation enjoy this home. I'd balked, not finding any precedent for such a clause, but thankfully Victoria's real estate knowledge had outpaced mine and Dad wrote us an airtight Christmas Clause.

I wish Victoria could be here. After a rocky start, she'd become the best friend and business partner I could have asked for. But she was downstate, officially introducing her unlikely boyfriend to her stuffy family.

As Grace slides the final pie onto the cooling rack, the side door swings open. I hear the loud footsteps of my brother, who finally took a filming break to come home for the holidays.

Kate follows right behind him and hands me my Christmas present — a handle of cheap whiskey, the brand I'd shared the first day I met her — but it only skims my hands before Mallory takes it, twists it open, and pours generously into her coffee. She makes more Irish coffees, and we move to the living room so Mal can day-drink and play ponies with Ruby: as she reports, two of her favorite activities combined!

Grace seems like the perfect hostess, perching on the arm of my chair, but she nervously looks out the window. I wrap my arm around her waist and slide her onto my lap, murmuring into her ear. "They're on their way, don't worry." She relaxes slightly, but her gaze turns to Elijah.

A horn honks. Grace and Elijah both rush to the front porch, where Isaac's minivan is pulling into our driveway. Grace's breath hitches as a Buick pulls in behind it. In unison, she and her twin murmur, "Mama."

After sneaking secret conversations with her children and missing time with her grandchildren, she finally told Grace's father that she was coming to our house for Christmas, whether he liked it or not.

The twins leap down the steps, and the three of them wrap around each other like vines. Isaac enfolds his arms around the whole embrace, resting his chin on his sister's head .

Nick steps onto the porch next to me and murmurs, "The prodigal family." That's what Grace longed for last year, to be forgiven and welcomed back into her family. But this is even better; Instead of going home contrite and asking forgiveness, Grace is the one extending solace.

Leah leaps out of the van then runs inside to find her cousin Ruby. Rachel hands me the baby carrier, and I unclip a sleeping Samuel out of his carseat and lift him against my chest, where he sniffles and snorts until he settles back to sleep.

When I go inside, Mom and Carol are taking Grace's mom on a tour. Dad and Uncle Terry watch football. Nick is regaling Isaac and Elijah with tales from the set. Mallory and Kate are curled up on the couch gossiping with Rachel. Ruby and Leah playing with a nearby dollhouse as Jean knits and watches fondly.

I know exactly where to find Grace.

She stands at the head of the dining room table, where I installed all the leaves to seat all 17 of us. It's official: my wife has more friends than Jesus.

"I don't know what to say," her grateful hazel eyes brim with tears, "when we pass the Peppermint Pig. How can I choose?"

"That's the best part of being married to me, I'll make sure you have it all," I kiss her forehead. "Merry Christmas, darling."