“I’m sure she doesn’t make you eat them.” Daniel looked out the window. The train raced past the frozen trees.
“No, but I do have to live there. Don’t even get me started. I thought it was bad in our apartment. This is the first Christmas she’s got a whole house to go nuts on. There’s Christmas shit everywhere.”
“Sounds kinda nice.” Daniel felt melancholy.
“Don’t get me wrong. She does a really good job. And I’m sure when we have kids they’ll get a real kick out of it. But she overdoes it.” Frank shook his head. “I don’t get it. I don’t see what the big deal is.” He shrugged and closed his eyes.
Daniel thought about his own house. No visible signs of an impending holiday whatsoever. Justine’s feeling was why go through the work of decorating only to have to take it down in a month. Illogical. He knew she’d eventually hang a wreath on the front door, more for the neighbors than anyone else, and that would be the extent of it. They’d go to her parents’ house, as usual, and come home when it was over and life would be exactly the same.
Justine had already told Daniel what she wanted for Christmas—a necklace she had not so subtly pointed out in a catalog.
“And could I please have it before we go to my parents’ house, so I can wear it there and show it off?” she’d asked him.
“Sure,” he’d answered. Justine was getting him new bookcases for his office as his gift. She’d made him pick them out himself because she had ‘no idea’ what he would want. There was no mystery to it whatsoever.
Daniel looked over and noticed that Frank was fast asleep. He closed his own eyes, thoughts of Christmas still on his mind.
As a child Christmas had always been Daniel’s favorite holiday. Coming home from school each day to the glorious smells of cookies and cakes baking, the way the house would transform from ordinary house to winter wonderland of candles and decorations. He’d delighted in the entire experience.
He’d loved to lie in bed awake in the weeks before Christmas, up close to the window, so he could stare down the street, watching the lights twinkle on the neighbors’ lawns and houses as far as he could see. He’d dream about what Santa might bring him. It was all so magical back then.
One year, though, he’d quested a little too diligently for his gifts and he’d found them, hidden at the top of his mother’s bedroom closet. He was initially excited, then ashamed and disappointed. He’d ruined his own surprise. His mother never mentioned it, but he knew she had realized.
When Christmas came, he opened all the gifts he’d already known he was getting. He thanked his mother, and she smiled. Then she got up and went into the dining room, returning with a box he was sure he hadn’t seen before.
He opened it slowly and was thrilled to find a new radio for his bedroom. His old one was cracked and needed tape to hold it together, but it still worked. He hadn’t even thought to ask for such an expensive gift. “It’s always nice to get a surprise,” she’d said to him. He had loved her so much at that moment, for not scolding him about snooping, for knowing that satisfying his curiosity had ruined the surprise for him, and for still going out of her way to make the day special. He’d felt so happy, so accepted and so loved. He’d never searched for presents again.
A few short years later, she took ill and passed away. He was sent to live with Anne, his mother’s best friend. The first Christmas without his mother had been almost unbearable because the only gift he had wanted was to have her back. Anne had tried her best to include Daniel in her family’s Christmas and make him feel at home. She’d bought him presents, and he’d accompanied them to the big family dinner at her husband’s sister’s house. But it had only reminded him of what he no longer had. There was no longer a family of people who loved him. No one to share old memories with. He was so lonely he felt like he might disappear.
Once he’d gone to college, he had chosen to spend Christmas at the dorm. Only a few students were around and he’d go out of his way to avoid even them, turning down offers from friends to accompany them home. He made a point of doing the least Christmasy thing he could think of—a corned beef sandwich at a Kosher deli in the Bowery followed by the Woody Allen film festival over at the Waverly. Anything to keep his mind off how sad he felt.
When he met Justine, he got swept into her family’s grand traditions. Christmas Eves at the country club with a staggering display of gaudiness and wealth, followed by Christmas Day at her parents’ house with a garish showing of greed and self-indulgence. Everyone was in a good mood, with the aid of champagne and lots of potent eggnog, and the days were so different from those he fondly remembered that they didn’t tempt comparison. He was able to pretend it wasn’t Christmas at all, just some other holiday, a random reason for Justine’s family to be decadent. He’d accepted the ‘new normal’ that had replaced his Christmas traditions. But the sadness remained.
Daniel felt the train slow as it pulled into the station. Frank was snoring.
“Hey, we’re here.” He nudged Frank.
“What?” Frank said, startling awake. “Oh, thanks.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Frank nodded, yawning.
****
Daniel and Justine arrived for dinner right on time, but Marienne was not quite ready. She apologized for the delay, explaining that the cookies had taken longer to bake than she’d anticipated. She set out dips, chips, and veggies for them to munch on while she scurried about the kitchen. Frank was already planted on the couch, watching football. Justine loved football, which was yet another thing she and Daniel did not have in common. While she and Frank were hooting and hollering at the TV screen, razzing the players, talking about bad ref calls, Daniel got up and strolled into the kitchen.
“Do you need some help?” he asked.
“No,” she said, smiling. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear then started mashing potatoes in a big pot on the stove. “I’m waiting for the chicken to finish cooking and then we can eat. Sorry about dinner being late.”
“No worries.” He didn’t mind the wait at all. It smelled so good in the kitchen. The scent of roasting chicken mingled with the aroma of all the cookies that were cooling on racks around the room. There wasn’t a single flat surface without cookies on it.
Marienne laughed as she saw him surveying the room. “I bake a lot at Christmas,” she said.
“Yes, I can see that.” He chuckled.
“Here.” She grabbed a box of cookie cutters off one of the kitchen bar stools. “Have a seat. Try whatever cookies you’d like.”
He was continually amazed by how warm she was. How inviting. Though he’d only known her for five months he felt as though he’d known her forever. Without thinking he grabbed a cookie and popped it into his mouth. It melted on his tongue. “Mmmm. That’s good.”
She tossed him a quick grin as she basted the chicken. “Try another.”
By the time she’d finished scooping the fluffy mashed potatoes into a serving dish and started on the gravy, he was on his sixth one. The tray by the kitchen table held cookies that looked temptingly similar to ones his mother used to make. His very favorite cookies. He’d spent years buying bakery look-a-likes, but had always been disappointed when the taste didn’t compare to his memories. He’d given up trying.
He eyed the tray as he sampled the other varieties. Each tasted better than the one before. He hesitated, not wanting to ruin the moment with unrealistic hopes, but curiosity got the best of him, and he grabbed a cookie off the final rack. He slowly bit into it, and there it was. The exact cookie he recalled from his childhood. The same texture, the same rich flavor, the same chewy jam. “Oh my God,” he said.
“What?”
“These cookies,” he said, his voice wavering. “They taste exactly like cookies my mother made when I was a child.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asked.
“Good thing. A very good thing.”
“Does she still make them?” she asked.
“No,” he said, looking out the window. “She passed away.”
“Oh Daniel, I’m sorry.”
“No worries. It was a long time ago.” He gave her a brief smile, but he could see his sadness reflected in her eyes.
The oven beeped, and Marienne checked the meat thermometer.
“Finally. We can eat,” she said.
The food was delicious, as always. They sat around the table talking and laughing for hours. Daniel was glad Frank hadn’t made any snarky comments about the delay.
“Here,” Marienne said, handing a shopping bag to Daniel as they said their goodbyes. “Consider this your first plate of holiday cookies. I guarantee you two will be getting several more.”
****
When they got home, Daniel set the bag down on the kitchen counter.
Justine groaned. “You’re eating all those cookies. In fact, take them to work. I don’t need temptation staring at me every day. I swear, I don’t know how she bakes so much. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Daniel didn’t mind the idea of eating all the cookies by himself. He’d hoped it would work out that way.
After Justine headed up to bed, he peered inside the paper bag and removed the platter. It looked perfect, wrapped up in clear red plastic wrap, curly gold ribbons holding it in place with a poofy cluster in the center, the different cookies layered artistically around the plate. He smiled then tried to fold up the shopping bag, surprised to notice there was still something inside.
He reached in and pulled out a Tupperware with a deep red lid. He looked at it, a mix of emotions in his mind, then lifted the lid. Nestled inside, carefully layered between pieces of waxed paper, were the jam cookies that had reminded him of his mother’s. From the looks of it, she’d given him the entire batch. He removed one then carefully sealed the container. He ate the cookie, savoring each bite, as he looked toward Marienne’s house through their darkened yards. A glow of light came from her kitchen window. For the first time in as long as he could remember, it felt like Christmas.
Chapter Fourteen
On Christmas morning Daniel gave Justine the necklace she had requested, plus a tiny box that contained the matching earrings. He knew she wanted them, and he wanted to do something to surprise her, to try to add some element of what he remembered as ‘Christmas’ back to the holiday. Justine was quite surprised and pleased, but she frowned at him.
“That wasn’t the deal.” She reminded him. “All I got you was the bookcases.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Daniel reassured her, but he felt the returning sting of sadness at the realization that she hadn’t thought of any way to do anything for him. He felt childish for even thinking it and quickly shoved it away in his mind.
When they returned home from her parents’ house later that night there was a big brown box waiting for them on their front porch. Daniel carried it inside and placed it on the coffee table in the front room.
“What is it?” Justine asked, as she removed her gloves and hung her fur-trimmed coat in the hall closet.
“I don’t know,” Daniel said, though he could guess who it was from. He’d had a hunch from the moment he saw it sitting on the doorstep.
He opened the box and lifted out the note that lay atop the crumpled red and green tissue paper that filled the box. He read it aloud.
“We wanted to thank you for all you’ve done to make the first few months in our new home so happy. You are the best neighbors ever! We look forward to sharing many more memories with you in the future. All our best, Frank and Marienne.”
Although Frank’s name appeared first, it was obvious that Marienne had written the note. Daniel examined the gentle curve of her handwriting. It somehow looked like her.
Daniel peeled back the layers of tissue paper and peered inside the box. He lifted out a bottle of wine, expensive, judging by the label and the year. He assumed this particular gift had been selected, or at least purchased, by Frank. Marienne always admitted she didn’t know the first thing about wine. That was Frank’s hobby. He knew Justine would be pleased. He handed her the bottle and sure enough her response was, “Ooooo, nice.”
Next he lifted out another box of cookies. He opened it and offered it to Justine. She grabbed a chocolate one. Although she’d complained about the steady stream of cookies Marienne had been delivering over the past few weeks, he noticed that Justine had practically begun to hoard the chocolate ones. It amused him, but he said nothing. He was glad to see that even Justine had some weaknesses.
“She’s so foolish to give all of these away,” Justine said, licking the residual chocolate off her finger and eyeing the box for a minute before grabbing another cookie. “She could be making a fortune. These are ridiculously good.”
There were two more boxes, beautifully wrapped in different papers and adorned with bows and ribbon curls. One was marked ‘Justine’ and the other said ‘Daniel’.
It was the first box he’d gotten in years that he didn’t already know the contents of; he almost didn’t want to open it. He set it down on the coffee table, enjoying the idea of having it sit there, wrapped up in mystery and possibility. Instead he focused on Justine as she opened her gift.
Justine tore the paper off and popped open the box. Her mouth dropped open as she looked inside. She pulled out a small, ornate perfume bottle, blown blue glass delicately wrapped in sterling silver swirls, with a blue glass spire rising from the top.