Don't Shoot the Messenger

14 Christmas and a confession

* edited 

Claire's POV 

We stayed the night at the Macello mansion of course. It got late and everyone was tired or tipsy. Christmas day the kids woke up begging to open the gifts they had seen waiting under the tree yesterday. They did not dare to jump on Mr Macello, so they jumped on me. I groaned in reluctance. Yet I wandered down to warm up some hot cereal or something. I could keep them occupied with breakfast until the rest of the adults were pried from the arms of Morpheus.   

They were not the only kids, and I was not the only adult shuffling downstairs bleary eyed. Several parents joined me in answer to the call of small hands and large enthusiasms. Either someone else had started coffee or it was on a timer. I smelled the welcome fragrance before I entered the kitchen. 

I look for some privacy to give Greg a call and wish him a merry Christmas. We seem to have gotten over our awkwardness with each other and have been back to our comfortable chats. Alissandru must have heard my voice though. He later asked who I had been talking with. After a moment of confusion I told him I called an old friend to wish them a merry Christmas. 

Presents were exchanged after breakfast. I wanted to get Alissandru something nice. What he considered 'nice' I considered beyond my budget though. What was simple (affordable) and yet he might enjoy it? I settled on something more sentimental... A Christmas ornament had been personalized. Each side of the dodecahedron held a picture. Some were of places we went together, or pictures I had his security people take of us while he wasn't watching. He held it in his hands and said he loved it. He refused to pass it around to his family when urged to do so.   

Several kids in the family got quad copters, remote control cars, and other such toys. I was not surprised to see that even rich kids like matchbox cars.  The younger girls got appropriately 'girly' gifts and older kids got things that apparently matched their interests.  Art supplies, video games, go-pro cameras, an animal observation kit that would let them place video feed near a nest... Some adults got things like Dale Chihuly art glass, an elegant chess set,  monogrammed barware, candles with customized scents, and fine jewelry.  

The boys aggressively played against each other until ordered into another room. I was surprised to get a small gift from Alissandru's mother. It was a cookbook of traditional Sicilian foods, made by her and other members of her family. She learned of my interest in cooking and contacted members of the family for copies of their favorite recipes. She must have had it printed up before I even arrived in Italy. I am stunned at the thoughtful gift and the obvious fact that Alissandru must have been talking with his Mother about me long before we arrived. 

I am nervous about opening his gift to me, especially in front of his family. The box is simple white with a light gray bow. (Though for all I know it could be butter yellow.) I work the tape free trying not to tear the paper and to delay the moment it will be revealed. I catch my breath when I fold back the tissue paper.

 It does not look flashy or extravagant. I recognize his family crest on the leather purse, along with my initials and other details. I am certain he selected each image himself. It is beautiful with a dragonfly clasp holding down the flap. The richly textured flap may be plain, but it draws all attention to the crest itself. Under the flap and on the other side are nature scenes with fish and water lilies. Reeds come up the sides of the purse. Instead of a rivet -or covering it- are small enameled butterflies fastening the strap. Definitely not off the shelf, it is custom made.