Contessa

by Lori L. Otto

  “Did you help with the dishes?”

  “Yes.” I started to, anyway, so it’s not like I’m not telling the truth.

  “Did you thank her?”

  “Of course I did, Mom.”

  “Okay, I just want to make sure. Did they like your gifts?”

  “Yeah. They had very few ornaments on their tree, so I think it was a nice gift. I think I’ll add them to the yearly tradition.”

  “Oh,” Mom says. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  “They were really nice.”

  “Good. You know, your dad and I were wondering what to get Jon for Christmas. Have you thought any more about what you want to get him?”

  “I’m going to go with that distressed leather messenger bag. I found out his middle name, so we can call them to have them monogram it. I think he’ll get a lot of use out of it at school next year. I think he’s had his backpack since middle school.”

  “Did his mom get you anything?”

  “No. I mean, I didn’t expect her to.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Mom, last year, Santa Claus missed their house altogether.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His mom didn’t have enough money, so she told Max that Santa was sick. Can you imagine, going back to school, and all the other kids bragging about their gifts, and realizing that your house was the only one Santa missed?”

  “I thought she has a better job now. Isn’t that why Jon quit the program?”

  “No,” I tell her, getting ready to expose Jon’s lie. I know this is one of those things he’d prefer I’d keep between us–he said so himself–but I think my parents have a right to know. “He made that up. When his dad died, he got a little money, but his family uses it as an additional source of income, so he doesn’t have to have a job and go to school. Of course he tutors for money sometimes, but–”

  “Wait, he’s paying for household items?”

  “Yes. And he pays for the extra classes at a community college. Art and the SAT prep courses.”

  “Livvy,” she says, setting her computer next to her drink. I sit down beside her. “We never would have let him leave the Art Room knowing that.”

  “He knows. That’s why he lied. He didn’t want to take the opportunity from someone else when he knew he could get by on what he had.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” My mom’s eyes start to water. “He seems like such a good kid.”

  “I think so,” I agree.

  “Did he give you anything for Christmas?”

  “Not tonight. We’re going to wait until he comes here on Wednesday.” I think the tattoo was a good detail to leave out.

  “Wednesday?”

  “Well, we’re leaving Thursday morning for the lake house, so I thought I could see him Wednesday instead.”

  “I don’t see a problem with that. You should invite him out to help us with the cookies that morning. Your dad’s got a court date with Brandon, so he won’t be around until the afternoon. We could use an extra cookie decorator since we’re baking for three different hospitals this year.”

  “I thought Kelly was helping us.”

  “She is, she’s baking for four other ones. That’s all she could handle, with all of her holiday orders.”

  “Oh. Well, I’ll invite him.”

  “We can just make a day out of it. It’ll be fun. He can bring his brothers, too, if he wants.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell him. I think I’m going to head down to bed, Mom. Do you need anything?”

  “Nope, I’m set to work for a few more hours. I’m glad you had a good time.”

  “Thanks, Mom. See you in the morning.”

  CHAPTER 9

  After half a week of doing holiday-related events and activities with my family, I’m more than excited for Wednesday to come along so I can see Jon again. With the weather clear and people off work on holiday, Mom lets me take my car to pick up Jon myself. It doesn’t hurt that Dad’s away with my cousin, Brandon, right now. I think he’s known this day would come, but is likely happy he isn’t here to see me take my first drive alone.

  “This is pretty hot, Liv,” Jon says as he gets into my car. “My girl driving solo in an awesome sports car. You’ll have to let me drive it someday.”

  “Do you have a license?” My girl. I keep hearing it echo in my head, and can’t stop smiling.

  “I do. Mom had a car briefly last year. We’ll have to take it out of the city to see what it’s really made of,” he says with a smile. “I bet this car can go pretty fast.”

  “I’ve heard it can, but I’ve never seen it for myself.”

  “So. Cookie decorating?” he starts as I carefully pull away from the curb. His eyes are attuned to the road, very much like my dad’s when we’d practice driving together.

  “Yeah. It’s a yearly thing. We do it for the children’s hospitals, but we always keep a few behind for ourselves. We’ll send some home with you, I’m sure. Just because your brothers couldn’t come doesn’t mean they should be deprived of our cookies.

  “It’s my Aunt Kelly’s recipe. She owns a bakery, so you know they’re good. This is a major undertaking, though. We’re talking hundreds of cookies.”

  “Hundreds?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m not sure I have the right skill sets for this.”

  “Oh, yes you do. I’ve seen your intricate little sketches. I’m worried you’ll be stuck spending too much time on yours.”

  “That’s probably a valid concern.”

  I nod to his backpack when we’re at a stoplight. “Did you bring along homework?”

  “Even I take a break from homework, Liv. There may be presents in here.”

  “Oooh, plural?”

  “Well, I had no idea what to get your parents. My uncle is a bartender. He gave me some decent wine. Your mom drinks wine, right?”

  “She drinks cheap wine,” I tell him. “And Dad drinks the best scotch money can buy.”

  “Well, maybe the decent wine will be a happy medium for both of them, then,” he says, unfazed.

  “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. You didn’t need to get them anything.”

  “I know.”

  “I got your brother this really cool wooden car set. I saw it when I was shopping with Max. I know your brother likes cars.”

  “Oh, he’ll totally love that. But again–”

  “I know, I know. I just want to impress them, Olivia.”

  “They’re already impressed.”

  “I know, but I want to be accepted.”

  “So you’re buying their love.” I challenge him playfully.

  “Well, they haven’t been as quick to love me as you have.”

  “Well, they haven’t known you since they were eight, like I have.”

  “Technically, I met them before I met you, you know.”

  “Technically, yeah. But they don’t know you like I do.” I release my hand from the wheel and take his into mine. He kisses the back of it, but then promptly returns it to the steering wheel.

  “Ten and two,” he says.

  “Ten and two,” I repeat, rolling my eyes.

  My mom and brother are already at work in the kitchen when we come in.

  “Holy...” Jon says as he glances over our tree and all the gifts.

  “Those are my entire family’s gifts: aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, you name it. It looks like a lot, but we have a pretty big family.”

  “Wow, I’ve never,” He shakes his head, staring in shock. He finally unzips his bag and starts to place his four gifts under the tree: two bottles of wine, one medium-sized box for my brother, and a small one for me. He glances at a few of the other gifts. “Liv, I saw your name on ten just in that general vicinity.”

  “I don’t count them.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “We really like Christmas around here.”

  “I can see that.” He takes my hand and pulls me into him, giving me a quick unsu
pervised kiss. “I don’t know how many more of those we’ll get today.”

  “We can test it out with my mom.”

  “I don’t know,” he says, unsure.

  I shrug my shoulders and lead him into the kitchen.

  “Merry Christmas, Jon!” Mom says, her hands already covered in flour.

  “Merry Christmas, Emi. The decorations are unbelievable. It’s like a winter wonderland in here.”

  “We love Christmas.”

  “That’s what Olivia’s told me,” he says. I think it’s the first time he’s called me by my given name in front of either of my parents. My mom’s eyebrows raise, but she just smiles at him and nods.

  “We met Livvy on Christmas Eve. One of the best days of our lives.”

  “Awww,” I say mockingly to my mother. She glares at me, her eyes narrowed, but I can tell she’s not angry by the dimples she can’t hide when she smiles.

  “No brothers today, Jon?”

  “My brothers turn into puppets with blue fur around cookies, so unless you just needed help eating them, I didn’t think they’d be of much use today. I left them at the Y.”

  “Well, we’ll need help eating them later. Make sure you take some home for them. They need to leave some out for Santa, anyway,” she says. I watch her nervously, afraid she’ll let on that she knows about their sparse Christmas last year, but she doesn’t.

  “Right, I’ll make sure they do.”

  “The first batch is ready for decorating, Liv. There’s already icing and stuff on the table, if you want to take these pans over and get started.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I tell her with a smile.

  “I’ll get them,” Jon offers, bringing all of the cookies to the table. “Are there specific things you like on the cookies? Do you have ground-rules? How long can I spend on one cookie?” He teases my mother.

  “No blood and guts,” she says.

  “Well, I didn’t see that one coming,” Jon responds.

  “Oh, we didn’t either, but then Livvy brought us some zombie gingerbread men a few years ago.”

  “You what?”

  “I was experimenting,” I explain, picking up a reindeer and adding some brown icing to it.

  “Yes, we took all of the good cookies to the hospitals, and we were stuck eating the zombies that year. Some were missing limbs... a few had head wounds.”

  “Liv!” Jon says, laughing.

  “I have pictures somewhere.”

  “I bet you do. That’s awesome!”

  “Well, I learned my lesson. Last year, every cookie had to be approved by one of my cousins. We may have each done a few zombies, though, and eaten them behind our parents’ backs.”

  “Maddie and Jackie can’t keep secrets,” my mom says about my cousins. “They reported everything back to me.”

  “Snitches, those two,” I say with a laugh. “I wish they could have been here for this.”

  “I’m sure Kelly does, too. I think Christmas is a little off for them this year, with Brandon’s issues. I don’t think the girls want to be around to see what happens at the hearing today.”

  “Some paternity thing,” I explain to Jon. He nods, his eyebrows lifted.

  “Maddie and Jackie picked up Andrew and they’re taking him skiing today.”

  “They’re not going to be with us for Christmas?”

  “They’ll be at the lake house Friday morning. I think Kelly and Thomas are okay with that, so they can try to make sense out of whatever happens.”

  “Did Thomas go with Dad?”

  “No. Apparently he and Brandon aren’t even talking.”

  “Oh. That sucks.”

  “Yeah. I hope it goes okay today. I hope your dad doesn’t come home in a bad mood.”

  “He’s never in a bad mood.”

  “He was pretty tense when he left this morning, but I’m ready for anything,” she says, pointing to a crystal decanter on the counter. “Oh, do you two want something to drink?”

  “I’m not big on scotch,” Jon says cheekily.

  “Ha ha,” my mom responds. “Soda? Eggnog? Water?”

  “Milk?” Jon asks. “With all of these cookies...”

  “Milk, sure.” My mom looks at us both with flour-covered hands.

  “I’ll get it,” I tell her.

  “Thanks, sweetie.”

  “So, Jon, what is your family doing for Christmas?”

  “We’re going to get up as soon as the boys want to and open presents,” he says. “And I imagine we’ll throw some balls around if the weather’s nice. Max is getting a new mitt. He’s been asking for one for more than a year.”

  “That’s sweet of you to get him one.”

  “Oh, I didn’t. That’s all Santa’s doing. He told us what he was bringing so we could coordinate,” Jon says. “I got him a few new balls. And Will’s getting a new bat.”

  “What’s Santa bringing you?” my mom asks as I set our drinks down and take my seat next to him.

  “He, uh... well, of course he didn’t tell me that. I’ll have to find out if there’s something for me under the tree on Christmas morning.” He winks at my mother, and I can tell that his confidence isn’t fooling her. We both realize he’ll be lucky to get anything this year from Santa or his family.

  I hope he likes the presents we got him...

  “Of course,” my mom smiles. “I’m sure your mom takes pictures or something Christmas morning.”

  Jon starts to shake his head, as if he’s never even considered such a thing. “No.”

  “No?” He again shakes his head. “Maybe that’s just a Holland tradition,” she adds. “We like to look at photos of Christmases past to see how much we’ve all changed. They make fun of my hair, you know. General self-effacing mockery. I’m tough, though,” she says.

  “Awesome. Can we do that tonight?” Jon asks.

  “No, Mom!” I beg. I turn to Jon to explain. “They take pictures on Christmas morning, when we’re still in our pajamas and we look completely horrible.”

  “Liv, we look at those pictures every Christmas Eve! Why not do it a few days early?”

  “Oh, I can’t wait,” Jon says.

  “Please, please, please don’t.”

  “We won’t embarrass you too much, honey.”

  I duck my head into my crossed arms on the table. “Oh, God.”

  “Hey,” Jon says as he nudges my shoulder. “I swear I won’t laugh too hard. And I’ll show you all of my class photos. They’re horrible. I’m the least photogenic person in the world, I promise. Your just-woke-up pictures won’t hold a candle to my school pictures.”

  “Okay,” I tell him.

  A grin spreads across his face. “Okay.” He leans over and kisses me on the forehead, and then immediately turns his focus back to the gingerbread man he’d been working on. I look up at my mom, who saw his sweet gesture and is smiling at me. We’ve passed the first test. I can’t believe how smooth he is, how effortless that seemed. I feel silly for worrying about it at all right now, in front of Mom, at least. She’s always been a hopeless romantic, though, so it shouldn’t surprise me.

  Mom makes lunch for us, allowing us to take a much-needed break. After my brother eats, he heads to his room to play, completely bored with the decorating process. I’m surprised he lasted this long. After my mom checks on him, she comes to sit with us at the dinner table where half the table is filled with naked cookies, and the other half is filled with colorful and holiday-appropriate treats.

  “They look great, kids,” she says.

  “Did you expect any less from us?” I ask.

  “Zombies,” she deadpans, glaring at me.

  “Right.”

  “Listen, Jon,” my mom says as she sets my digital camera down on the table next to him. “I happen to know that Santa is bringing a new one of these for Livvy–”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “You hadn’t figured that out?” she asks me. I shake my head. “Well, there goes one surprise. Anyway,
Jon, I was wondering if you might want to take this with you, and maybe document the Christmas for your mom or something. I know those pictures are some of the ones I cherish most. I know she would probably like that, as a mom.”

  “I couldn’t take that, Emi,” Jon says.

  “Just borrow it, then.”

  “Jon, I’ll just end up donating it,” I try to convince him.

  “Well, then you should do that, Olivia. I don’t want you to donate it to me, though. We’ve talked about that.”

  “Do it for me, Jon,” Mom says. “Just for Christmas, then. You can give it back after you get the pictures printed.”

  “Okay,” he agrees. “But I’m bringing it back.”

  “Deal.” Mom gets up from the table to make some more icing.

  “After that,” I tell him quietly, “you can borrow my camera any time. We can go shoot your brothers’ games together or something, if you want. What’s mine is yours.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” he says softly as he brushes my hair aside, getting green icing in my hair. “Oops,” he says as he tries to get it out. His effort just gets more icing on my cheek. “This isn’t working.” He laughs, picking up a paper towel and wiping off his fingers. Instead of using the cloth on my face, though, he moistens his lips and removes the icing from my cheek. He then closes his eyes and kisses me, right on the mouth, right in front of my mom. His hand rests gently at the nape of my neck as his thumb caresses the hollow beneath my ear.

  In my head, I’m freaking out, but the rest of my body continues to kiss him back, slowly and sweetly. When he pulls back, we simply smile at one another and get back to work on the cookies. When I get the nerve to glance up at my mother, she catches my eye and has this smitten look on her face. Yep, that’s pretty much exactly how I thought my mom would react.

  “Livvy, come help me take these cookies to the car,” she says.

  “‘Kay.” Jon squeezes my knee before I get up, but continues to concentrate on his gingerbread man. “I think you’re spending too much time on that one,” I tease him.

  “Right,” he answers. “Go help your mom.”

  Once we’re in the garage, she closes the door softly behind us. “Livvy, he seems so sweet.”

  “He is,” I gush.

  “I know you think he is.” She tucks my hair behind my ear and smiles at me. “But I don’t think your dad will be okay with that. Not in his house. Not yet, okay?”