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To: Hannah.
From: Santa.
No clue from the paper, a glossy red foil. She’d seen rolls and rolls of it at Target.
“Dad, did these come in the mail? Or did someone drop these off?”
Since his retirement, her dad was in charge of the mail—going to the mailbox, bringing in packages. He also did the grocery shopping now, took out the garbage, ran all errands. The hunter-gather.
He lifts his palms. “No, they were not delivered by mail. Someone brought them in and hid them behind the tree. They weren’t there yesterday.”
“Huh,” says Hannah. “Some Christmas intrigue.”
She was trying to keep it light. But itwasodd wasn’t it? She didn’t think her brother was lying. She knewtheyhadn’t brought the gifts. So did someone else have access to the house? Had someone snuck in? That was silly. The only one who broke into your house andleftgifts was Santa.
“Doesn’t anyone else find this strange?” asks Hannah.
“Someone’s having fun,” says Bruce, stacking his and Hannah’s together, putting it on their pile of presents.
Mako frowns another moment, then gets up and pours himself a sixth bourbon from the wet bar. If Liza is concerned about Mako’s drinking, it doesn’t show. She looks at her box.
“Sorry, I’m not sure who left this or why. And I don’t want to be rude. But this whole thing is a little creepy. Thanks, but I’m putting mine right in the trash,” she says.
Then she rises and does just that. Hannah hears the garbage open and close in the kitchen. Then Liza returns to the couch. Hannah tries to catch her eyes, but Liza is looking at Mako with a slight frown.
“Good idea,” says Hannah.
She searches for something more to say, a way to connect with Liza. But there’s nothing. They are friendly, but not friends—though Liza is always unfailingly polite and warm. There’s something between them, a barrier which Hannah can’t seem to break through. Hannah suspects that Liza keeps her guard up because of Sophia. Hannah vows to talk to her mom about being less brittle, more welcoming. Sophia has her issues, but she’s not always awful. Sometimes she’s warm and funny. Maybe she feels threatened by Liza, though Hannah can’t imagine why.
Hannah scans the room again, feels that deflation, that current of sadness that always seems to undercut the holiday, that awareness that nothing that glitters can stay. Darkness must always come. She tries not to think about the gifts, who gave them, why. Someone in this room, of course. But why play this game?
She gives her brother another glance, but he is blank. Her gaze drifts to the locked front door, to the windows that only reveal darkness. Strange.
Hannah gets up to gather the remainder of the mess while Liza and Mako collect their things. Hannah and Bruce are staying. Liza and Mako never spend the night; which Hannah gets. Mom doesn’t make it comfortable. Even Bruce would prefer not to stay. But they do. And Gigi is sound asleep in the bassinet in the spacious, beautifully appointed guest suite.
This is what they’ve got. Except for his mom, Bruce doesn’t have much family. Any family, really. So Hannah’s will be everything to Gigi. It’s not perfect.
What family is ever perfect?
In the driveway, Mako pulls Hannah into a big hug.
“But did you bring those gifts?” she asks quietly.
“Why would I do that?”
“Right,” she says. Why would he?
“Well, don’t let mom get to you,” Hannah whispers, holding on to him.
“You’re right. She is who she is.”
“That’s true of all of us, isn’t it? No one’s perfect.”
He puts a hand on her cheek. “Except for you.”
She puts her hand to his. She’s lucky to have a brother like Mako.
“We still good for that long weekend this summer?” he says, moving away. “I booked the house already.”
