My grin widened. Oh, hell no. I’d worked hard to get Marly to a place where she answered me ‘yes, Sir’ reflexively. No way I was reversing that.
“I have to put her gifts in her stocking. Want to help me?”
Mom raised an eyebrow, taking a long sip of coffee. “Why do you need help stuffing gifts in a stocking?”
“You’ll see.”
*
A few hourslater, almost all the gifts had been opened. All except our stockings—and our gift to my mother. Beside me, sitting cross-legged on the floor, Marly wiggled and flashed me an excited grin. “Now?” she whispered.
I nodded and she leapt to her feet, lunging for the large wrapped box still beneath the tree, and handed it to my mom.
Mom slid a narrowed gaze to me. “This huge thing is for me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Marly said, clasping her hand into mine as she sat back down.
The gift had been entirely Marly’s idea, sparked when I was showing her my parent’s old wedding album.
Mom tore open the wrapping paper, the slim wardrobe box nearly as tall as she was. Then, lifting the lid, she gasped. Her eyes grew wet and Marly squeezed my hand.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Dad leaned over her shoulder to have a better look. “Oh my—”
“How did you find this?” Mom asked.
I smiled, feeling the tears and emotion climbing up my throat, burning my sinuses. Marly’s cheeks were already wet, stained with tears. Mom didn’t wait for an answer, she stood and pulled her wedding gown out of the large wardrobe box, holding it up to herself and laughing. “I don’t remember ever being this thin, though!”
“It was all Marly’s idea,” I said. “I told her the story—how you sold your wedding gown to buy dad’s Rolex—”
“Your Rolex now,” Dad said.
“And we had the designer on the movie recreate your gown for you, mom.”
My mom hugged the dress tighter into her body. She wasn’t ever a woman who wore her emotions on her sleeve, but for the first time in years, she looked downright giddy. She rushed toward us, crushing me in a hug and kissing my cheek. Then, leaning down, she cupped Marly’s face and pulled her in, holding her tight, the dress crushed between them. “You did good. This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” she said.
Marly’s smile stretched wide over her beautiful face. “We had her sew it to my measurements. Jude said you were my size when you got married.”
Mom snorted, her gaze drifting down to Marly’s waist and I coughed to catch her attention before she blew the rest of the plan. It didn’t take more than a quick look to set her back on course, and Mom nodded, saying, “Yes, of course. I think I was about your size. Give or take a couple pounds.”
“I’m so glad you like it,” Marly said, still beaming. “When Jude told me your version of the ‘Gift of the Magi,’ I just knew—we had to find a way to get you that dress back.”
“Do you still have your mother’s wedding gown?” Mom asked.
Marly shook her head. “I always wanted to wear my mom’s wedding dress, but she was actually pregnant with me when they got married—so her dress wouldn’t exactly work in a conventional way. I actually saved the fabric—I’m hoping to sew some of her dress into mine so I can walk down the aisle with a little piece of her history. And I had the thought that I could sew the rest of the fabric into a Christening gown for my children.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mom said. Then, wiping her eyes, she added in a very thinly veiled change of subject, “Hey, don’t you still have your stockings to do?”
My heart raced. This was it. Months of planning and it was finally here. Mom handed us our stockings and I set mine aside, wiping my sweaty palms across my pants. “You go first, Marly.” I nodded toward her stocking and she didn’t hesitate, digging in immediately. “Yep, that one first,” I said pointing at the small envelope in her hand. She tore into it like she was five years old, pulling out the gift card.
She gave me an odd look, tilting her head. “A Chipotle gift card?”
“You know,” I said. “For yourBurritos.”
“Um… okay.” She laughed, but clearly wasn’t catching on yet.
I had placed all the items in order in the stocking, so as long as it didn’t get shuffled around too much, it should be perfect. She pulled out the next wrapped gift and opened it. “Doritos…” This time, a smile began tilting the corners of her lips.
“That’s right. Another favorite.” Mom and Dad exchanged quizzical glances and shrugged. “Burritos, Doritos…”
