“I made those for you when we were staying with Hal and Ryder. They’re called worry dolls. I had some when I was a kid. The idea is that you tell them whatever you’re worried about, and then they carry it so you don’t have to.” He grinned and added, “They’re supposed to look like you and me, but they both ended up looking like those inflatable dancing tube guys outside of auto dealerships.” Kit waved his arms and bobbed up and down to show me what he meant.
“I think they’re wonderful.”
“I know it’s not much,” he said, as he lowered his gaze. “But you’re not really into ‘stuff,’ and I wanted to give you a gift you could carry in your backpack. There’s something from all the places we’ve stayed so far. The fortune cookie fortune is from when we had takeout with my dad.”
I read it and grinned. The slip of paper said:You will find love when you least expect it.“When you’re right, you’re right.”
“I asked Belinda for something I could include from here, and she gave me that single cufflink. It belonged to your dad. She said the other one was lost a long time ago, but she could never make herself get rid of it, even though it didn’t have much use without its mate.”
I ran a fingertip over the silver cufflink, which was inlaid with a smooth, deep black square of onyx. “All of this is amazing, and incredibly thoughtful. Thank you, Kit.”
“Do you really like it?”
I gave him a hug and said, “I absolutely love it. It’s perfect.”
“Oh, good. I really hoped it would make you happy.” It did that and more. I was deeply touched by it.
I pulled my backpack onto the bed and took out part of his gift as I said, “I hope you like what I got you.” I handed him a small, red envelope and watched as he pulled out eight iridescent, jewel-toned fabric swatches, each of them two inches square.
He murmured, “Pretty,” as he ran the fabrics between his fingertips.
“Do they look familiar?”
“Kind of, but I don’t know why.”
“When we were in Austin, we walked past a fabric shop that wasn’t open. You plastered yourself to the glass, raved about the beautiful silk fabrics in the window display, and talked about all the things you’d love to make with them.”
He looked up at me with surprise as I continued, “I called the shop later that day and ordered a full bolt of every color. They were shipped to the pink Victorian in San Francisco, and the swatches were included with my receipt. It was sent here, since this is where I get all my mail.”
Kit threw his arms around me. “That’s an incredible gift, Devon! Thank you so much.”
“It’s my way of saying I believe in you and your talent. I know you’ll make wonderful things with that material.”
“I’m going to have the best time with it! I already have a ton of ideas.”
I pulled a fabric-covered notebook from the backpack and handed it to him. “Here’s a new sketchbook for all of those ideas. Your old one is almost full.”
“It’s too pretty to use!”
“Please use it anyway. And there’s one last thing. I’m terrible about wrapping presents, by the way.” I took his hand andslipped a silver ring onto his index finger. It was made to look like delicate branches and the tiniest leaves, wrapping around several times to form a lacy band. “I spotted it in an antique shop in New Orleans, when I went out to get us coffee. I wanted you to have it because it’s ethereally beautiful, like you.”
He straddled my lap, throwing his arms around my shoulders as he whispered, “I love it. I’ve never seen a more beautiful ring.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Was it the antique shop with the wooden cat in the window, around the corner from our hotel?”
“Yeah, it was. How did you know?”
He sat up and smiled at me. “That shop was really special. It’s where I found your earrings.”
I kissed him and said, “Merry Christmas, Kit.”
“This is already the best Christmas ever.” I nodded in agreement, and he asked, “Do you think Belinda and Ed are up yet?”
“Let’s get dressed and go find out.”
Sure enough, the two of them had gotten up early and done their own gift exchange, just like we had. They were waiting for us in the family room—the most casual and comfortable room in the house. It had a huge fireplace with a fire burning brightly, two walls of bookshelves, a round table by the window for board games, and two comfortable plaid sofas bracketing a big coffee table. It was also the location of the “real” Christmas tree, the one with all the sentimental ornaments we’d collected over the years, as opposed to the fancy designer trees dotted around the house.
