Merry Ex-Mas by Victoria Christopher Murray Page B

disaster that hovered low and close, lifted.
    Sabrina said, "That is a good idea, but do we want to do it so early?"
    For a moment, I was taken back again to Christmases of decades past. When for Sabrina, it was never too early to open presents.
    Sabrina kept on, "I mean, I was thinking after dinner." Then she looked at me and added quickly, "But if you want to open gifts now … "
    "Yes, let's do it." My father shifted to the edge of his seat. "Sister Henderson said she'd bring dinner over about four."
    I glanced at my watch. Good grief! That was almost two hours from now. How would we fill up all of that time?
    Yes, we needed to open gifts … very slowly. And then, I needed to call Sister Henderson, the woman who'd been preparing special dinners for my father for all the years since my mother had been gone, and offer to triple pay her if she could get that turkey and dressing over here an hour earlier than planned.
    "Okay," Sabrina said. "Then let's do the gifts." Her eyes twinkled with excitement, as if she were six years old once again. "I just have to send this one text," she added.
    "Who you texting, baby?" Anthony asked.
    "Just someone from the office," Sabrina said, already texting. It took her no longer than ten seconds before she said, "Alright, let's do this."
    "I'll get the gifts." I jumped up and knelt under the tree before any of them could offer to help. I needed to do something with my hands so that my tongue would stay silent.
    There were only four boxes, and they were all tagged with my dad's name. That's what I expected. I didn't know what Sabrina and Anthony did, but Dad and I hadn't exchanged Christmas gifts for years. My thoughts: my father didn't need to be spending his money on me, and really, I tried to make every day Christmas for my dad in some way.
    "These are all for you, Daddy," I said, as I stacked the packages one on top of the other, then placed the gifts at my father's feet.
    Dad rubbed his palms together and grinned. "Well, Merry Christmas to me!"
    For the first time, we all laughed at the same time.
    I settled back in my chair and watched my father brighten with joy. But then, I felt a shadow over me; it was Anthony.
    "Merry Christmas," he said, holding a box. I stared at it for a moment, then glanced up at him, before my eyes returned to the box. The box and Anthony took me back in time. Back to our first Christmas …
    Even though I had on a sweatshirt and jeans, my feet were bare as I perched them up on the deck's railing. Although the ocean breeze was cool, the hot chocolate warmed me up. I took a small sip and then sighed.
    This was the life! We didn't have a bit of money, but I felt like I had everything that money could buy. I had the business that had started formulating in my head when I was a freshman in college, and I was living in a Malibu home that I couldn't even have imagined when I was growing up on the hard streets of Compton.
    Yup, I had everything.
    "Good morning."
    I glanced over my shoulder and smiled at Anthony standing at the sliding glass door. Oh, yeah … I had a husband, too. Not that Anthony was really an afterthought. It was just that to me, he was part of the business. When we'd met in graduate school, he was the one who encouraged me, planned with me, and then helped me make my dream come true.
    "Good morning," I said. "Merry Christmas."
    He stepped onto the deck and kissed my cheek. "Merry Christmas to you." He sat down in the deck chair lined up next to mine. "What time should we head over to your father's?"
    I sighed. "I wish we could just spend our first Christmas here, looking out onto the ocean."
    Anthony chuckled just a bit. "Your father would never go for that."
    "I know. And neither would Sabrina. My little sister would drive over here and drag me back over there." I laughed, and then sighed. "I just want a few more minutes here. And then I'll get ready."
    "Okay, but before we do that … " He paused and pulled a box from the pocket of the sweat suit