Intermezzo: Family Matters Page 2

  I had that feeling again now, so I just turned to Tony with a slight smile and raised my glass to him. He looked amused, and lifted his beer bottle, then took a swig.

  “Do you ski, Tony?” my brother asked.

  “No,” Tony said, putting down the bottle.

  “Hm.” Joe sounded disappointed and unsurprised.

  “Have you looked up your old classmates?” Nat asked him. “Some of them must still be in town.”

  “No, I haven’t kept in touch with them,” Joe said.

  “Eh, the slopes are all full of tourists now, anyway,” Manny said, cutting a bite off his cinnamon roll. “You want to come back in a month, when the holiday crowd’s gone home.”

  A scowl tightened Joe’s face, then he put on a smile. “Doubt I’ll get back here that soon. Maybe I’ll call a couple of the guys I used to ski with.”

  Nat met my gaze with amused eyes. I smiled back. I’d forgotten how stubborn Joe could be; when we were younger, it had usually meant he was unhappy about something, and he took it out in small ways on the family. I remembered when he’d failed to make the varsity basketball team in his sophomore year. He’d been insufferable for a month.

  Curious about what could be bothering him, I changed tactics. “How’s your job going? Are you master of the stock market?”

  That surprised a huff of laughter from him. “Hardly. I manage conservative funds. Blue chips, mostly. Sit back and watch the money trickle in.”

  “Would you rather be taking more risks?” I asked.

  That drew a sharp look from him. “Not necessarily. There’s some pretty crazy stuff going on in the high-spec funds.”

  “What would you rather be doing?”

  Pretty nosy of me. Joe looked surprised. On reflection, I would not have asked him such a question back in high school. Tony’s influence, perhaps.

  I waited for him to answer, holding his gaze. His eyelids drooped slightly and he tilted his head a little.

  “I’ve thought about moving to special interest funds. But my company doesn’t do much in that direction. I’d have to change jobs.”

  “Any particular special interest?” Tony asked.

  “Energy, for one. New technologies. I see a lot of potential there, but my company’s energy funds are vested in traditional industries.”

  Ah. This made sense. Joe had been something of a science geek in school.

  “Remember the solar oven you built for the science fair?” Nat asked, her thoughts echoing my own.

  “Not that successful,” Joe said.

  “You baked a potato in it!”

  “Yeah, but it took three hours.”

  “Energy’s a great idea,“ I said. “ I’ve thought about putting solar on my house, but it would be a big expense, and I’m not sure I want to change the look of the roof.”

  “Would the restrictions be a problem?” Nat asked.

  She was remembering the trouble I’d had making changes to the house. It was on the state registry of historical buildings, so there were limits to the alterations I could make.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe.”

  I glanced at Joe, who was focused on his enchiladas. He seemed to have lost interest.

  “Covered parking in the back,” Tony said, cutting a bite of relleno. “Solar panels on top of that.”

  I looked at him, impressed. “That’s a thought.”

  The area behind the tearoom’s kitchen had become a small parking lot for my staff, with room for four cars at most. A structure to cover that, with solar panels on top, might provide enough electricity to run the tearoom. It would have to wait until I’d paid the mortgage down a bit, but it was a good idea.

  Tony continued calmly demolishing his meal. He was in quiet mode, in which he could appear detached, but I knew he was absorbing everything going on around him.

  That would include the family dynamics. We’d probably have an interesting conversation, later.

  I ate my last bite of spinach souffle—delicious—and picked up my biscochito. Having spent the past month somewhat bathed in cinnamon, sugar, and anise, I did not feel the anticipatory delight I’d have enjoyed at another time, but surprisingly I wasn’t sick of them either. I took a small bite and let the short cookie melt in my mouth.

  Nat was watching me. I gave her a nod.

  “You nailed it. They’re good.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  I took another bite, then examined the remainder of the cookie, turning it to make the sugar sparkle in the light. This little cookie had made me a lot of money over the holiday season. I had no idea how many of them had gone out of our kitchen, consumed with tea or carried home in bakery boxes by happy customers. Thousands. Maybe tens of thousands.

  “Maybe I’ll put solar on top of my warehouse,” Manny offered into the silence.

  “Or cover your parking lot,” Nat said. “Then your car wouldn’t be an oven by the end of the day.”

  “Hey, some days it’s nice to get in a warm car after driving a reefer around all day. Inside of that baby is cold.”

  A slight frown fleeted across my brother’s face. He caught me looking, then turned to Nat. “Is there more coffee?”

  “I’ll get it,” I said, feeling a need to move.

  I fetched the coffee pot and poured refills. The meal was winding down, and soon Nat led us back to the living room for presents. Manny donned a Santa hat and officiated, picking up gifts at random and pretending to be unable to read the labels. Nat sipped from a large coffee mug and smiled indulgently. I had a flash of memory: my mother with a clipboard on her knees, making a list of all the gifts we received from relatives and out-of-town friends, to be used later for sending punctilious thank-you notes.

  Mom. My throat tightened, though it had been years since she’d died. I had turned to Nat afterward, and she’d always supported me, but she had her own family to care for. Mom’s death had left a big hole in my heart, and it still hadn’t healed, though most days I got along fine. Only occasionally did I stumble back into woe.

  Why now? I wondered as I brushed some non-existent lint from my skirt and tried to hold off the threat of tears. Why Mom more than Dad, this Christmas?

  A silent tension made me glance up to find Tony watching me. I found a smile to offer him. I couldn’t tell whether he was reassured.

  “This one’s for Ellie from...” Manny peered at the tag. “...Masasha.”

  Nat laughed, shaking her head. “Laying it on rather thick, dear.”

  Manny handed me the gift. I glanced up at him, then at Nat. “You both gave me that beautiful table already...”

  “That was for the tearoom,” Nat said. “This is for you.”

  It was a cylinder, about eight inches long, tied like a Christmas cracker with ribbons at both ends. I undid them and pulled off the paper, to find a charming tea caddy decorated with exquisite Japanese cherry blossoms. A gentle shake produced an un-tea-like rattle. I opened it carefully, and found a small envelope inside.

  “I know Miss Manners disapproves of gift cards, but I thought you’d forgive me this time,” Nat said, smiling.

  “Ten Thousand Waves!” I squeaked. “Oh, thank you!”

  “Promise you’ll use it.”

  “I promise!” I nodded vigorously. The envelope had the (very generous) amount of the gift discreetly marked on one corner. It was more than enough for a decadent massage ... or to treat Tony to an hour in a private tub at Santa Fe’s world-famous Japanese spa.

  I felt myself blush.

  “This one’s for Moe,” Manny said, unearthing another gift and carrying it to Joe.

  I put the gift card back in the tea caddy so I wouldn’t lose it. Looking up, I saw Manny offering my gift to my brother. Joe smiled slightly when he felt its liquid weight. I had caved in and bought him expensive Irish whiskey, although I considered booze to be nearly as lazy a gift as a gift card.

  Mind, Nat had packaged her gift card cleverly inside a charming and practical second
gift. Points to her. I had not done as well with the whiskey, but at least it was top drawer. Joe met my gaze with an approving nod.

  “Thanks, Ellen.”

  I nodded back, smiling.

  “And this is for...Pony,” Manny declared. He held out a box about a foot square to Tony. “From Santa and Mrs. Claus.”

  Tony hesitated, looking unhappy. “I wasn’t expecting gifts.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, sport,” Manny said, and plopped the box in his lap. “Word to the wise—if you’re going to hang out with this family, expect gifts to fly through the air.”

  “With the greatest of ease,” Nat sang, grinning.

  Manny picked up three tangerines from a bowl on the coffee table and began juggling them, whistling. I couldn’t help laughing.

  “Better open that before I drop one, amigo,” Manny said to Tony, standing before him with his gaze on the flying tangerines.

  Tony gave me a sidelong look. I shrugged; I hadn’t been consulted about his present.

  He opened the box and pulled aside a layer of tissue paper, revealing a sweater. He shook it out. It was charcoal gray with a narrow stripe of lighter gray across the chest and black below that. I touched the hem; soft.

  “Nice,” Tony said, nodding. “Thanks.”

  Manny caught the tangerines. “I wanted to give you cerveza—”

  “Oh, hush!” said Nat.

  “—or a Sherlock Holmes hat. But I got overruled.” With a wink, Manny handed me and Tony tangerines, then tossed the third one to Joe, who looked up just in time to catch it. Manny then resumed Santa duty, going back to the tree to rummage among the remaining presents.

  I peeled my tangerine, releasing the aroma of childhood Christmases. Mom had always put a tangerine in the toe of each stocking.

  Mom again. I stifled a sigh and ate a section. It was a good memory, I reminded myself.

  When Manny brought my present for Tony over I held my breath. Tony seemed to be tolerating the gift exchange rather than enjoying it. He opened the box, then his face lit with interest as he took out the leather motorcycle gloves.

  “Whoa,” he murmured, pulling one on. I was pleased to see that it fit perfectly.

  He put the other glove on, flexed his hands, looked them over with a critical eye, then took them off and met my gaze. “These are really nice! Thanks.”

  I smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

  He surprised me by kissing my cheek. Cops don’t do PDAs—or at least, Tony didn’t. I blushed again.

  “And now, the grand finale!” With a flourish, Manny picked up the last gift from beneath the tree. He had also palmed a kazoo, on which he played a fanfare as he marched over to Nat’s chair and laid the present on her lap. By this time she was giggling helplessly.

  Manny pretended impatience while she mopped her eyes and opened the package. Inside was a baguette.

  “It’s...beautiful,” Nat said gamely. “I love French bread.”

  “Good, ’cause it’s the only kind they serve in France.”

  “France?” She looked up at him.

  “Look inside.”

  “Oh, you didn’t!” Nat pulled apart the loaf, revealing an envelope which she opened. Inside were a set of airline tickets. “Paris! Oh, Manny!”

  She jumped up and flung herself into his arms. Laughing, Manny lifted her from her feet and spun around.

  “Pack your baguette, baby! We’re going to gay Parieeee!”

  “Let me guess,” Joe said wryly. “Springtime?”

  Manny set Nat on her feet. “June. This one’s going to want her help for Mother’s Day,” he added, nodding toward me.

  He was right. Last year the tearoom had been quite busy on Mother’s Day, and we’d barely been open a month. This year it was sure to be a circus.

  Tony sat up sharply beside me. I gave him a questioning look. He took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen, then grimaced.

  “Gotta take this one. Sorry,” he said. “Be right back.”

  He went through the kitchen and out the back door. I helped Manny gather up the discarded gift wrap and add it to the fire, enjoying the different colored flames, while Nat chatted with Joe behind us.

  “Thank you for the violets, Tio,” I said. Manny had given me a box of exquisite crystallized violets. Expensive because they were difficult to make—I’d made them myself, so I knew how fragile they were.

  “You’re welcome, hija.” He grinned at me as he collected discarded boxes.

  “I’m going to put on some more coffee,” Nat said as she passed, tweaking Manny’s Santa hat. He followed her with an armload of boxes.

  I put the last wad of gift wrap on the fire, watched it go up in green-edged flames, then looked up at Joe, who was sitting on the banco nearby, watching me. “I’m glad you could make it for the holiday,” I told him. “Nat’s been missing you. She was disappointed you couldn’t make the wedding.”

  He glanced toward the kitchen, then back at me. “I sent a gift.”

  “That was nice of you, but she still missed you.”

  He made no comment. Instead he picked up a stray scrap of giftwrap and leaned forward to put it on the fire.

  “What happened to your friend?” he asked quietly.

  “Tony? He got a call from work. He’ll be back.”

  “Didn’t think Miss Manners would approve of interrupting a holiday gathering.”

  “He doesn’t have a lot of choice. And he didn’t interrupt—that’s why he stepped outside.”

  Joe’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not going to lose your head, are you? One in the family’s enough, right?”

  My heart froze for a second, and I lost my smile. “I didn’t hear you say that.”

  “You know what I mean,” Joe said, hunching up one shoulder.

  “I certainly hope not.”

  2

  Istood and went out to the kitchen, biting my lip to contain my fury. Nat was busy with the coffee maker. To keep from throwing something, I went into the dining room, collected the tamales, then took them to the kitchen and got out the foil to cover them.

  New York had changed my brother, and not for the better. Our mother would have been horrified at his arrogant words. If he’d said them when he was still living at home, our father would have given him a long, excruciating lecture.

  Plate by plate, I brought all the leftover food to the kitchen and put it away, taking deep breaths as I sought to regain my composure. Fortunately Nat was busy with the coffee, or she’d have noticed my mood. Manny returned from the garage and distracted her further by tickling her as she tried to work.

  When Tony came back inside, cheeks red from the chill, he immediately asked me, “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “Tell you later.”

  He accepted this, though he gave me a doubtful look. Following my lead, he fetched the platter of biscochitos from the dining room.

  “Bring those into the living room,” Nat said, setting the coffee carafe on a tray with cream and sugar and fresh mugs. Tony obeyed, and I followed reluctantly.

  Joe hadn’t moved. He sat staring into the fire.

  “Coffee!” Nat announced brightly, filling a mug. She carried it to Joe and said, “Black for you.”

  “Thanks.” He looked up at her with a trace of little-boy guilt. “So, do you want to go skiing tomorrow?”

  “Oh, my skiing days are over,” she said, smiling. “But thank you for the invitation.”

  Joe looked at me. “Ellen?”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks. I really need more down time after the holiday rush.” I tried to say it kindly, though I was still annoyed. Apparently I wasn’t completely successful, because Tony gave me a long look.

  I fixed myself a mug of coffee with cream and took a biscochito to nibble so I would have an excuse not to talk. Tony got his own coffee, plus two biscochitos, and joined me on the couch.

  Manny started telling a story about his and Nat’s Hawaii honeymoon. I took the opp
ortunity to ask Tony, quietly, “What was the call?”

  “Just Zeke. He wants some help on a case, but it’s not urgent.”

  “We could go, if you need to.”

  Tony shook his head. I took a bite of biscochito, then had a silent discussion with my inner Miss Manners.

  Are you offended enough to confront your brother?

  Not now. It would only embarrass everyone, derail Nat’s jolly party, and maybe hurt Manny. But I was offended.

  Are you comfortable staying?

  Not really.

  Are you actually going to tell Tony what happened?

  I can’t.

  My stomach sank as I realized that. I couldn’t tell Tony; he’d be furious. Or devastated. Maybe both.

  But I’d have to tell Joe, eventually, that I did indeed plan to add Tony to the family.

  I couldn’t face it today.

  I washed the last of my cookie down with coffee, then quietly got up and retrieved the canvas tote I’d used to bring my gifts. Tony watched me collect my presents, sipping his coffee. Finally he got up and brought the sweater Nat and Manny had given him to add to the tote. I glanced up at him, doing my best to smile.

  “You want to leave?” he asked softly.

  I nodded, then stood. Setting the tote on the couch, I went to hug Nat.

  “We’re going to go,” I said. “I think I need a siesta. Not enough sleep last night.”

  “Not enough sleep?” Manny said with mock wide-eyed innocence.

  Nat swatted his arm. “I’m sure the Mass was worth it. Maybe we’ll do that next year.”

  “Thank you for the lovely brunch,” I said.

  Hugs exchanged, I picked up my tote and tuned to Joe. Tony had disappeared.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said. “Hope you have fun skiing.”

  “Thanks,” he said, his face unreadable.

  Tony returned with our coats, said goodbye to Nat and Manny, then offered Joe a hand. “Nice meeting you.”

  Joe’s hesitation was a fraction of a second, but I noticed, and I knew Tony noticed. Joe shook hands and murmured something neutral and polite.

  Outside, I took a deep breath of crisp, piñon-scented air. Broken clouds scudded across a bright blue sky, spitting snowflakes over us. I could have stood there all day, breathing in the cold, but I wanted to get home.