Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Hard cider and a movie?” Magnus suggested smoothly, already going to the fridge.
“It’s officially the holiday season.” I accepted a bottle from him, relieved that he also wasn’t ready to call it a night. “Something silly and seasonal?”
“Coming right up.” He grinned at me, and I was right back to wondering if it could be like this every year.
Chapter Twenty-One
Magnus
“I need a gift idea.” Diesel swept into The Heist on a bracing December afternoon. Thanks to dropping temperatures, the lunch rush had never fully materialized, and now we were decidedly in a pre-dinner lull where some staff ate while others rolled silverware in black linen napkins.
“You and me both.” I came around the bar to welcome him with a hug.
“Who do you need a gift for?” Diesel narrowed his eyes. The blue in his hair had faded to the color of the winter sky with dark roots, making him look older and wiser, some sort of snow wizard.
“Eric. The household.” I kept my tone vague. I probably shouldn’t have started this line of conversation. I’d been so happy to see Diesel for the rare daytime visit that I hadn’t thought through my commiseration, so I tried to choose my next words more carefully. “They’ve all gone over and above in helping out this year, but Eric especially. I should get him something.”
“Matching grandpa sweaters?” Diesel cackled before pulling out his phone. “Oh wait. I gotta suggest that idea to Maren.”
“No clothing.” I shuddered at the thought of a sweater, let alone an ugly holiday one. And the last thing I wanted was some sort of gag gift. “Something more…meaningful.”
Ideally, I needed something that could be opened in front of others. Diesel and I had been invited to join the family for Christmas, along with assorted other friends. After years of only Diesel and myself, having such a warm, welcoming group was unexpectedly wonderful. Indeed, my chest lifted every time I thought about Thanksgiving.
I would never look at a dessert brandy in the same light or watch the trio of holiday comedies Eric and I had indulged in without remembering his laugh. I expected Christmas to be more of the same because we were already discussing shared cooking duties. However, the added pressure of a gift for the holiday had me in as many knots as Diesel seemed to be himself.
“Meaningful.” Diesel rolled the word around in his mouth like it had a metallic taste. “See, that’s my problem too. Maren said she doesn’t want anything, but I think she’s trying to be nice because the baby needs so many things.”
“Yeah, you need to get her a present, but I know funds are tight.” I stretched, trying to think what a twenty-year-old mother-to-be might possibly want. “You’ll get a lot of baby gifts at the shower, so perhaps something small just for her?”
“Exactly.” Diesel nodded, stamping his boot-covered feet. His combat-style boots had seen him through Europe and the start of his present job and were battered—the leather decidedly thin and scuffed in places. He needed new ones, which, luckily, solved another gift dilemma for me, not that I’d reveal that brainstorm.
“Perfume? Bath products? A nice robe?” I suggested, but Diesel pulled a bored face.
“Maybe something other than what advertising wants us to buy for women?” Shaking his head, he made a frustrated noise. “The only ads that remotely get it right are jewelry.”
“Pricey.” I whistled low, not sure I agreed and also hoping he hadn’t come about a loan.
“Not always.” His cagey tone and nervous eyes had me decidedly on edge. “Which is why I was thinking… Your safe survived the fire, right?”
“Yes. Thank goodness.” I smiled more freely now that I had an idea of where this talk was headed. “You’re thinking of that envelope of jewelry we got from your maternal grandmother’s husband?”
“Yeah.” Diesel’s maternal grandparents had never been much a part of our life, but a couple of years back, after Flo died, her mother had also passed, and her mother’s third husband had sent us some family jewelry for Diesel to keep. Neither of us had been in the mood to sort through it at the time, so I’d simply placed it in my safe for a later time.
“The safe is actually in my office here now. Let’s go look.” I ushered him to the small room at the back that had undoubtedly housed some important banker when the building had been a functioning bank. These days, however, it was a mess of random chairs, papers waiting for me to file or trash, an older laptop, and several changes of clothes.
I’d stashed the safe on the floor near the desk, and I bent to retrieve the padded envelope of jewelry. “We should have thought of this before the courthouse wedding.”
“I know.” Diesel gave a pained groan as he kneeled next to me. “A bit backward to do the proposal, quickie wedding, and now worry about jewelry.”