going to open our presents that we didn’t do last night because David got lost?” Mac asked. Our immediate family did the gift unwrapping Christmas Eve and when everyone else joined us on the big day, we did the rest.
Poor Ian. We didn’t have anything for him. One item I had to get him after the holidays was a new coat and sweatshirt. But maybe I could have Mom and Dad give it to him. It was kinda personal handing over items of clothing to a guy I barely knew, though I’d been wearing his gear since last night, so maybe it didn’t matter.
But as everyone cleaned up after lunch, Sarah drew my attention to a present wrapped in blue paper under the tree with a name tag that read ‘Ian’.
6. Ian
David’s grandmother and uncle were on their way so the family gathered around the tree to do their ritual gift unwrapping before they did the second shift later. I hung back but Viv dragged me forward. “I don’t have any presents to give.”
“Sure you do.” She pointed out the two similar boxes under the tree. I’d given my employers small gifts a few days ago, not expecting to see them until after the holidays, unless we bumped into one another while I was feeding the goats.
My presents to them were two coffee mugs. One that read, ‘Whatever floats your goat’ and the other ‘I goat this.’ But I had nothing for anyone else. Perhaps my rib roast counted as a family present.
There were oohs and ahhhs and squeals as the gift giving progressed and the floor was strewn with colorful wrapping paper and ribbon. “And this one is for Ian.” Rob handed me an A4 sized gift.
“Open it,” everyone urged.
“Wow!” It was a photo of me on one knee, surrounded by the goats. Gertie was giving me a ‘kiss’. “That’s adorable.”
“I remember that day. She’d taken a bite of my jeans.” David was sitting on the floor near the tree and as I spoke, his hand slid over his ass. “Thank you. I’ll treasure this.”
There were more hugs and kisses and presents placed under the tree when David’s grandmother and uncle arrived. David’s gran sipped a sherry and told stories of when Rob was a kid, and Viv and Rob assigned everyone else a job.
David and I had to set the table. Seemed easy enough. The kitchen was bustling, everyone chatting, pots simmering, people mixing, mashing and beating things while the huge oven worked overtime.
Everything we needed was on a sideboard. Plates, napkins, serving spoons and ladles, a crisp white tablecloth, cutlery, plates, wine and water glasses plus candles. “What are these?” I pointed to a box of colorful paper cylinders cinched at either end, which sort of looked like huge wrapped candies.
“Bon bons, or Christmas crackers. Gran’s family always had them at Christmas and so we’ve continued the tradition. They’re hard to find. I think mum orders them online. We each get one and you pull it with someone else at the table. It makes a loud snap, and there’s a joke, a silly paper crown and a little trinket inside,” David informed me.
“Okay, where do we start?”
“Right here,” Mac barged over and handed us each a glass of wine.”
David and I went around the table putting out eight place mats, while adding the glasses and napkins, but we were going in opposite directions, and kept bumping into one another in the middle. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he giggled.
It was cute and I joined in and laughed too. “We need a plan.”
“I go one way and you the other?” he suggested.
“I think that’s what got us into trouble in the first place,” I told him.
David closed one eye and mumbled but the only word I caught was “trouble.”
“How about this? I start and you follow.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll do the plates,” I suggested.
“And I’ve got the bon bons.”
But the plates were much heavier than the Christmas crackers and I couldn’t carry them all at once so David bumped into me, his hips slapping onto my ass.
“Oops. Sorry.”
“Perhaps the plan needs a rethink,” I said.
He caught my eye and we both chortled. It did occur to me that drinking wine paired with setting the table and putting out breakable plates was not a smart move, but the house was warm, amazing smells were coming from the kitchen, and Christmas music was blasting from someone’s phone. If we couldn’t let loose a little on Christmas day, when could we?
In the