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My first thought is that I’m going to need to up my cardio this week.
My second, as my eyes lock onto Alice’s green apron with red fur and jingle bell trim worn over her red Victoria Beckham dress, is that I must’ve been a very good boy.
Alice’s eyes light up as she surveys the room. Family and a Christmas tree. Just what I promised her in the display I made ten months ago.
The substantial down payment I made to the best Christmas tree farm in New York was worth it for the look on Alice’s and Mary’s faces when not one, but four Christmas trees were delivered to the house on the first of the month. One in the foyer for Alice to see as soon as we get home from work together. One to sit by in the living room at night as we read. And two small ones for our bedroom and Mary’s.
Making love to Alice by Christmas tree light has been the highlight of the holiday season.
Mother swoops in behind Alice, a large, wrapped box in her hand. ‘Who’s ready for Christmas presents?’
‘Me!’ Mary jumps up and down. ‘Me!’
‘Mom, it isn’t Christmas yet.’ Alice shakes her head at my mother, who beams at her in return. Both are equally ecstatic at Alice calling her mom.
‘Just one, dear.’ Mother holds up a French-tipped nail. One with a Christmas tree painted on it, a la Mary’s suggestion. ‘A Christmas Eve tradition.’
Alice looks at me. ‘Is that true? You normally open a gift on Christmas Eve?’
‘No.’ I ignore my mother’s harsh stare. ‘But it could be a new tradition.’
Mother’s buoyant again. ‘Yes, a new tradition.’ She places the wrapped box in front of Mary before Alice can object. ‘Here, Mary, open this one.’ Mother looks at each of us. ‘This is for the family, but I thought Mary could open it.’
Mary tears through the paper only to find another box. And then another, and then another. She’s waist high in boxes and wrapping paper before she finally reaches an envelope.
Watching her try and fight her disappointment at the sight of such a small gift would be hilarious if I also wasn’t extremely nervous over what the hell my mother has done this time.
‘Go on,’ Mother urges, her eagerness making me even more nervous.
Mike motorboats Bell, who struggles to control her perverted pet from slithering into her dress.
King Richard drops his head on my chest and purrs, calming me down.
There is no question over whose cat is superior.
‘What is it, sweetie?’ Alice asks when Mary opens the envelope.
Mary frowns at the strips of paper in her hand. ‘A boat?’
Alice’s jaw drops. ‘Mom…’
‘Not a boat!’ Mother raises both hands. ‘Not a boat.’ She hustles around all the boxes and points at the paper in Mary’s hand. ‘Tickets.’ She beams at the room. ‘For a Disney Cruise.’
‘No way.’ Mary’s whisper overflows with awe.
‘And—’ Mother adopts a smug expression ‘—we’ll be having dinner in Cinderella’s banquet hall.’
‘No way!’ Mary throws herself at Mother. ‘You’re the best, Queenie. Thank you, thank you, thank you!’
Alice drops onto the arm of the sofa. ‘So much for the new bike Santa got her,’ she murmurs to me, a look of loving exasperation on her face.
King Richard places one paw on her lap, making Alice smile.
Seriously, he is the most intelligent of beasts.
* * *
Alice
