I’m just about to text him when he walks through the back door. He’s carrying several bags, and it’s obvious he’s picked up more than the stockings.
When he sees my confusion, he grins and lifts one of his hands and mouths, wrapping paper.
Somehow in my excitement to help in the kitchen, I’d forgotten we still need to wrap gifts.
Valerie glances over her shoulder in time to see him bound up the steps. “Finley, do you want to go up and check in on Alex?”
I do, but… “We’re not done yet.”
“All that’s left is the clean up,” she says dismissively. “And there’s not much left since we’ve been cleaning as we go.”
Mallory gives me a mischievous grin. “Plus, you should probably help Alex wrap presents.”
Valerie releases a good-natured snort. “It’s not hard to wrap a gift card.”
“I think he bought actual presents this year,” Mallory says with a sly grin. “I’m pretty sure he got them yesterday at the market. Apparently, Finley’s a good influence on him.”
“Nah.” I smile. “He did just fine on his own.” I might have shamed him into it, but he came up with most of the ideas, not that I’ll rat him out.
Mallory makes a face, clearly unconvinced.
“We have a tradition for wrapping gifts,” Valerie says. “Feel free to borrow it if you like.”
“You mean, you have a tradition,” Mallory teases.
Valerie shoots her an ornery grin. “I have no trouble owning it.”
“It started when we were little,” Mallory says. “Mom would take an afternoon before Christmas, then lock herself in her room with the presents, wrapping paper, and a bottle of wine. She’d refuse to open the door until hours later. Even when we stood outside and pounded on it.”
Valerie lifts her chin. “I had three rambunctious sons and a precocious daughter,” Valerie says. “I was overwhelmed with everything that needed to be done. A little wine and solitude saved my sanity.”
“Sounds like survival to me.” I laugh, imagining the chaos.
She crosses to the fridge and pulls out an unopened bottle of rosé. “If you want to continue the tradition, feel free.”
“I don’t have four rowdy kids,” I joke.
“No, but you’ll be trapped with three rowdy men and one overzealous woman. The principle still applies.” She lifts an eyebrow, still holding the bottle out.
“When in Rome,” I say, taking the bottle from her. “Oh, wait. I don’t want to take your bottle if you’re saving it.”
“I’ve already wrapped,” she says with a reassuring nod.
“And she’s got five more bottles chilling in the fridge in the basement,” Mallory laughs.
“Well, in that case…”
She and her mom load a tray with a bottle opener, two wine glasses, and a plate of assorted Christmas cookies. “Fuel.” Valerie says.
“Thank you.” I take the tray and head upstairs, surprised to find the bedroom door is locked.
Balancing the trap on my hip, I knock. “Alex, it’s me.”
“Just a minute.” There’s a shuffle inside, then about ten seconds later, he opens the door. “Sorry—I locked it in case Mallory came snooping.” His gaze drops to the tray then he looks at me, one brow raised.
“Your mom handed me her gift-wrapping tradition?—”
“Getting tipsy while wrapping presents,” he nods with a grin. “Check.”
