Page 63 of Terms and Traditions

Ivy smiled knowingly. “It’s something small. Go ahead.”

Untying the ribbon, I tore into the box and carefully lifted the tissue paper. Happiness bubbled in my chest, and I laughed. Inside were the ornaments from last night’s White Elephant. “Did Zoe have a change of heart?”

Gabe scoffed. “Hardly. She’s—”

“We bought an extra set,” Ivy cut in, shooting her husband a warning look. “Just in case you lost them in the game. I had no idea they were going to start a fight.”

I snorted. “Your son has excellent taste.”

Ivy cocked an eyebrow. “And who do you think suggested them?”

I reached over to side-hug her, smooshing our faces together. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” I glanced at Gabe. “You, too, Gunny.” It was practically my duty to annoy my brother with every Marine title except the one he currently held.

Gabe shook his head and sipped his coffee patiently. “You’re like having another kid.”

“And you love it. Your life would be empty without me to temper that ego of yours.”

“I think my ego would be just fine.”

Beside me, Nash snorted and stage whispered, “You sure that filter kicked in after cup number two?”

Gabe laughed, actually laughed. Which was rare for him but also, rude. Whose side was he on?

I stuck my tongue out at Gabe. “My filter is just fine.”

Nash’s arm snaked around my shoulders, and he pressed a kiss to my temple. “And I like you just fine,” he whispered against my hair. He was so perfectly snuggable—could you blame me for cuddling further into his citrusy warmth?

Then it was Hiram’s turn to shine. Gifts were doled out liberally on a performance basis. Much like how a boss awarded holiday bonuses. The better you did, the nicer your bonus. For Hiram, the better you toed the family line, performed in the family empire, the nicer your gift potential. Which was why, as much as my siblings had a common dislike for how Hiram had treated their mothers, even if they themselves were always treated well, they danced to the puppet master’s strings. Because none of them wanted to be written out of the will.

Gift wrapping flew in a hundred directions, uncovering Kate Spade purses, Louis Vuitton shoes, new smartphones, keys to an ATV, Tiffany gift bags, and more. Gifts in Hiram’s world were awarded on merit or bribery. Gabe and Ivy received a couples’ gift, some sort of gift card. They were apparently still in Phase Bribery, since the rest of my siblings were high-end merit receivers.

Then it was my turn. Hiram plopped an icy-blue snowflake-patterned box into my lap with a veneered smile. Honestly, after last night, I was expecting no gift. But apparently he still thought I could be bribed?

I shifted uncomfortably, struggling to hold eye contact. “Thanks.” The paper even smelled expensive when I tore it lightly. Please don’t be another pair of designer shoes. A girl could only sell so many pairs.

My fingers brushed luxurious buttery fabric under the creamy tissue paper lining the box. My pulse stuttered. Was this… clothing? I shot Hiram a confused look. He’d never bought me clothes before, only accessories.

He smiled benignly, waving me on. “Something suitable for tonight.”

Tonight? Still lost, I gently lifted the silky puddle of sapphire fabric, and it fluttered down into a shape. Oh. Oh!

It was a dress. A very fashionable, expensive designer dress. And tonight was our formal family dinner. So, this was what he meant by suitable.

Talk about anything but. It was… slinky, bordering on risqué. How is this formal family dinner appropriate?

The slit was in dangerous territory, and the skirt was murderously long. I was five feet on a good day, not a supermodel. There weren’t heels high enough to save me from tripping. As for the top half… The company must be making budget cuts with the alarming lack of fabric, since the designer forgot the entire back. And no one should entrust that much faith in those skimpy straps.

I cleared my throat and tried to speak, but nothing came out. The weight of everyone’s eyes on me—most amused, others uncomfortable—squeezed my chest. I didn’t dare look at Nash next to me as the tsunami wave of embarrassment flooded my veins. After clearing my throat again, which sounded like a cat hacking up a hairball, I pasted on my professional smile. “Uh, thanks, Dad. It’s… a nice colour.”

What else could I say about it? I wouldn’t be caught dead in that dress. It was so far from my comfort levels of attire, and I was pretty sure it was worth several months of my salary. I tucked the fabric back into the box, jaw clenching.

I glanced at Zara in her cute teal silk pajama set. Maybe I could soften this disaster with a deflective compliment? “Pretty sure this gown would look better on you. You’ve got the lovely height for it.”

Zara brightened in pleasure. “Aren’t you sweet?”

“Nonsense. It’ll wash her out horribly,” Hiram cut in. “She already has the perfect dress.” He smiled at his wife, but she’d already withered.

I didn’t miss the word perfect or the way he believed I was clearly less than. My middle siblings tittered. Hot tears scalded my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. What I wouldn't have given for it to have been just another pair of stupid shoes. At least I could sell those without feeling slimy.