The Christmas Gift

“Hey, Grandma.” Krista bent down to hug the older lady while trying to make sense of her comment.

“I missed you, sweet girl,” Grandma said. “We all did.”

Krista felt her eyes grow moist except things weren’t adding up. She drew back from the hug and swung her gaze to her mother. “I don’t understand. Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

Her mother’s eyes shifted.

“Ellie was discharged this morning,” Grandma said. Great news, but Krista couldn’t make sense of it. “We’re having a celebration dinner. Now the only one missing will be Rayna.”

Krista’s sister had only been thirteen when Krista moved away. Krista wondered where Rayna was, but another question was more pressing.

“What about the internal bleeding, Mom?” Krista asked.

Her mother still wouldn’t meet Krista’s eyes. “It stopped a few days ago. The medication they have nowadays is amazing.”

“Most people with bleeding ulcers recover fast,” Grandma said. “The doctor told Ellie this morning she’s already almost as good as new.”

“This morning? But last night, you made it seem like you were really sick.” Krista collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. “How could you do that? I thought you were dying.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t my finest moment.” Her mother did not sound sorry. “But it’s been eight years, Krista. How else was I supposed to get you home for the holidays?”

“You could have asked,” Krista said.

“I ask every year,” her mother said. “You never come.”

The radio tuned to the station that played all Christmas carols, all the time, was between songs. In the rare moment of silence, Krista heard the unmistakable sound of wheels rolling on hardwood. Krista’s body tensed.

Her father maneuvered the wheelchair into the kitchen, a blanket thrown over his useless legs. Although he was only five years older than his wife’s fifty-seven, what hair he had left was completely gray and visible wrinkles creased his face.

“Krista?” His thick gray brows drew together. “What are you doing here?”

Krista swallowed, aware those were the first words he’d spoken to her in years. The few times he’d answered the phone when she called, he immediately handed her off to her mother. She tried not to let it hurt that he didn’t seem glad to see her. “I thought mom was sick.”

“Ellie called Krista from the hospital and told her she was dying,” her grandmother said.

“That’s not so, Joe!” her mother cried. “I told her I was bleeding.”

Krista’s father set his mouth in a tight line. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?” her mother demanded. “Don’t you think it’s past time our daughter came home?”

“Our daughter can—” her father began.

“Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!” The greeting was loud enough to drown out all sound.

A stranger about her father’s age came into the kitchen wearing a Santa hat, a fake white beard and red suspenders that were visible through his open overcoat. He was about five-nine with a wiry build, lessening the effect.

“Welcome home from the hospital, Eleanor,” the stranger said to Krista’s mother. “You look fantastic!”

“Thank you, Milo,” Ellie said. “You look great, too. I never get tired of seeing you in that get-up.”

“One of the fringe benefits of being a mall Santa.” Milo snapped the suspenders, then turned his attention to Krista. “And who is this pretty young lady?”

“Our daughter Krista. She’s the interpreter who lives in Europe,” her mother said. “Krista, this is our next-door neighbor, Milo Costas.”

Costas? Krista didn’t remember anybody named Costas living next door. She only knew one person with that surname, an unusual one for central Pennsylvania. Was this a relation?

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Costas.” Krista tried to convince herself she must be wrong. Not everybody named Costas was connected to each other.

“It’s my pleasure, young lady.” Milo Costas commented at the same time another male voice—a familiar male voice—called out, “Where is everybody?”

“In the kitchen,” Krista’s father yelled, his scowl vanishing.

Alex Costas strode into the kitchen, a bottle of red wine in his right hand, a bottle of sparkling apple cider in his left. A good five or six inches taller than Milo, Alex had thick black hair, an athlete’s build and strong, classic features. The first time Krista had seen him, she’d sworn her heart had skipped a beat. Right now it sped up.

“Did you know there’s a ca—” Alex’s voice trailed off midquestion, his dark gaze swinging to Krista.

Attraction rocketed through Krista, as hot and intense as when they’d been in bed together eight years ago and she’d told him about accepting a job in the Czech Republic.

He’d driven her home and told her he thought it was best if they ended things cold turkey, and she hadn’t seen him again until this moment. She took a deep breath and plastered on a smile.

“Hello, Alex,” she said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

ALEX COMPOSED HIS FEATURES to mask the jolt of sexual energy he felt. He’d known Krista would walk through her parents’ door one day but he hadn’t expected it to be today. Neither could he have predicted the way his body would react to her.

“Hello, Krista,” he said.

Eleanor Novak tilted her head, her eyebrows drawing together. “You two know each other?”

Alex and his father owned a landscaping business and had been buying plants and supplies from Novaks’ Nursery for years. They hadn’t become close friends with the Novaks, however, until Krista had already left home.

“You could say that,” Krista said. “We met before I moved to Europe.”

Eleanor’s gaze swung to Alex. She talked about Krista semiregularly, mostly to complain that her daughter never visited. “You never mentioned that, Alex!”

Alex’s father was watching him with interest. Alex had never brought up Krista to him, either.

“Wasn’t much to tell.” Alex shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Where did you meet her?” Eleanor asked.

Alex zeroed in on Krista’s golden-brown eyes and recalled he could never tell what she was thinking. He didn’t see any way to dodge the question. “At the nursery.”

“The nursery! Oh, wait! I remember that day!” Krista’s grandmother had a wonderful memory, although Alex hoped it would fail her now. “The poinsettia incident!”

Nope. His elderly neighbor’s memory was working just fine.

“Alex came into the nursery for the first time,” Grandma Novak continued. “He was already working with his father in the landscaping business and wanted to buy two dozen poinsettias.”