Claiming His Christmas Inheritance

by C. J. Carroll

  Pride swelled within her. “Thank You, Lord. Because of You, this is one of my best works.”

  She foraged farther in the closet, until she found the frame she’d purchased. Putting in earbuds, she listened to Christmas carols as she framed and wrapped Zed’s gift. When she was done, she pressed her ear to her bedroom door. She heard water running in the bathroom across the hall and figured Zed was in the shower.

  Carefully carrying the large picture downstairs, Tasha propped it up against a wall by the tree.

  She nestled herself in one of the plush living room lounge chairs. Through the bay window, she viewed the front yard. A tickle agitated her throat. “Mama, I’m here. I’m really here. Living our dream.” Emotion overcame her.

  Various memories of her mother’s life crowded her mind. Her mother’s wistful expression whenever she saw couples walking hand in hand. Mornings when the garish fluorescent kitchen light highlighted the harsh lines etched in her mother’s face. Her mother’s expression deepened by worry, as she balanced her checkbook. Even with her mom’s faithful coupon hoarding, the woman had squeezed every penny she could out of her meager pay for them to get by.

  Tasha was blessed with a better life because of her mother, whose hard work, encouragement and belief in her had given Tasha a better foundation to start her life on. And it was her mother who’d discovered the Victorian, as she walked to the bus after the nearby housecleaning job she’d taken on to supplement her income.

  When Tasha had first met Zed, he’d wondered if her mother’s prayers from heaven had brought her to this place. While she wasn’t exactly living the real fairy tale, she was going to be blessed with a better life because of Zed’s offer. And she’d be able to bless other people’s love stories through her wedding planning and venue business. But why was she always the one on the sidelines, watching others’ happiness? Was God mad at her?

  Tasha shut down her pity party before it got started. She had learned to love and treasure herself, and just because treasure wasn’t discovered, didn’t mean it wasn’t treasure.

  In a way, it was as if the house was her and Zed’s fairy godmother. The structure, grand dame of the neighborhood, had sheltered, embraced and blessed her and Zed.

  Zed. Just the thought of him made her smile. She loved their cheesy jokes and humorous banter with each other. He was such a good guy.

  Tasha grabbed a pillow and hugged it to herself. A part of her wished she could be like Cinderella, and the ball would never end. Careful, girl. Remember, if you’re Cinderella, midnight’s coming, and there’s no glass slipper for you.

  “I need to be the prince of my own life,” she whispered to herself as she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.

  The next thing she knew, a curtain of daylight seared through her eyelids. She awakened to bright sun.

  Tasha ran her hand over her right cheek. The imprint from the living room chair had made indentations that snagged her fingers. She ran her hands through her matted, kinked hair, where she’d slept against the chair. She didn’t want Zed to see her like this. Especially not on Christmas Day.

  As if on cue, Zed descended the stairs, followed by Milo.

  “Merry Christmas, Tasha.” His light eyes glittered with warmth.

  Her breath hitched in her throat. The thing that made him so devastatingly handsome was that he didn’t know it. Even in casual clothing, he looked like he had stepped out of a media ad. Now that she knew the man, too, that made him even more lethal.

  A strange feeling came over her. In anguish, she started to wonder why she’d been given this opportunity to get so close to a good man like him—the kind of man who had never been available to be hers and never would be.

  She straightened in the chair. “About last night. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds with the Union Station suggestion. It’s like I read the first page of the book of your life and acted like I knew the whole story. I shouldn’t have presumed.”

  Zed nodded. “As you’ve figured out, it’s a sore spot. Thank you for the apology.”

  Tasha breathed a sigh of relief. She was happy the air was cleared between them. Her best friend always told her that a big part of marriage was compromise and forgiveness. And giving the other person room to be themselves, in a safe place. Is this what Kelly had meant?

  She noticed Zed looking toward the kitchen, probably thinking about breakfast.

  “I don’t know about you, but for me, opening Christmas gifts always trumped breakfast,” she declared.

  Zed slapped his forehead with his hand. “What was I thinking? You’re right.”

  “We can eat later,” Tasha said.

  “Deal,” he replied. He took her elbow and gently guided her toward the tree.

  They both stood there for a moment, enjoying the beauty of the tree and the backdrop of the enchanting outside scene through the window. The houses draped in glittering Christmas decorations were highlighted by a light sea-blue sky and coating of pure white snow.

  “You go first,” she said.

  “All right.” Zed rubbed his hands together excitedly. His eyes went immediately to the large gift she’d brought downstairs. He retrieved it and tore open the wrapping.

  Tasha tried to suppress her combination of excitement and anxiety. She hoped she’d done the right thing. When Zed fully unwrapped the gift, he froze. He looked from the drawing to her and back at the present. “What?” he managed to eke out.

  Tasha’s pulse raced. Had she made a mistake?

  Milo sat next to Zed, looking at the framed picture of Zed as a young boy at Union Station.

  “I can’t believe what you’ve done,” he said.

  Her heart dropped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Zed put the picture down and approached her.

  Tasha braced herself for an earful of his displeasure.

  His hands gently clasped her shoulders. “You don’t understand. It’s as if you looked inside my soul or something. Your drawing expresses how I always wished it would be with me and my dad.” His Adam’s apple bobbed and settled several times. “Thank you, Tasha.”

  Turning back to the tree, he grabbed the envelope that she’d secretly already opened. “Merry Christmas.” He handed it to her.

  Her honest nature got to her. “I have a confession to make. I already opened it.”

  “I may not be able to forgive you for that,” he announced.

  Surprised, she started to protest.

  Zed laughed outright, his severe declaration an obvious joke.

  Relieved, she chuckled, too. “Your gift was so thoughtful. I love the idea of three good holiday moments to replace my three holiday breakup memories. You don’t know how much that means to me.” A mixed soup of emotions swirled within her.

  “Tasha, are you all right?”

  She reined in her emotions. Get yourself together, girl. Remember the playa-playa handbook. Men are experts at playing the game. It’s not about the prize for most of them, but about their competitive nature and winning. The game is the thrill. When they’ve won, they move on and leave you like a quickly discarded Christmas toy. It’s about conquest. They’re all alike.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” she replied.

  After they finished opening gifts, Zed made Christmas pancakes. So much for Froot Loops, Tasha thought. However, she was just glad he was making a meal that made him happy.

  He used frozen red strawberries for the Santa hat and lips, whipped cream for the beard hair and hat rim, chocolate chips for the eyes, and a pat of butter for the nose.

  “Wow, I’m impressed,” Tasha said when she saw the special breakfast.

  “What can I say? I got skills,” Zed joked. He headed to the refrigerator. “Want some milk?”

  “Sure.”

  After pulling two glasses with Christmas elves on them from t
he cupboard, he retrieved a jug of milk and poured twin glasses.

  Tasha’s toes curled in satisfaction as she enjoyed the pancakes and the serene Christmas morning. She liked that she and Zed were comfortable not always needing to talk. That they could be quiet and just enjoy things. Most of her past boyfriends hated silence. They always had to be talking, listening to something or watching something. As if they were trying to avoid alone time with just themselves.

  Zed devoured two stacks of pancakes and drank three glasses of milk.

  Tasha laughed as she viewed his empty plate. “It’s not a race, you know.”

  He gave her a wide grin. “I’ve got one last surprise.”

  She shook her head in confusion. “What?” She put her fork down.

  “There’s one more gift for you.” Zed sprang up. But instead of heading to the tree, he went to the foyer closet. She heard him rummaging through something. He returned with an old shoebox. It was dusty and dirty and wrapped with a single, dingy ribbon.

  She crinkled her nose. “You shouldn’t have. Really,” she said, looking at the tattered box.

  “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” he said.

  “Well, that’s not a book, it’s a battered old shoebox. Therefore, all bets are off.”

  Zed chuckled. He sat down across from her and caressed the box with his hands, as if he held treasure. “My aunt Zora left this. For you.”

  Tasha’s head snapped back. “I don’t get it. How could your aunt Zora leave me a gift? She didn’t know me.”

  “She left it for my wife. The one she knew I’d have for at least three months. Thanks to that unusual eccentric will of hers.” He slid the box across the table. “Actually, I was as surprised as you when my lawyer gave it to me. Aunt Zora stipulated it was only for my wife to go through.”

  Tasha eyed the box. “Your aunt Zora was a character.”

  “Ha. If you only knew,” Zed said. Affection beamed from his eyes. “She didn’t just walk to the beat of a different drum. There was no drum where she walked.”

  Her hand teased the ribbon, gently pulling at the crooked old bow. But she didn’t want to open it. Not in front of Zed. If Aunt Zora had meant it for her, she wanted to open it in private.

  “Hey, I was thinking maybe I’d like to go to Union Station like you suggested,” Zed said.

  All thoughts of the box flew out of her mind. “Really?” Had she gotten through to him? Was he possibly ready to start his journey toward healing? He was such a good guy. His mom and aunt Zora had known that. And now she did, too.

  “Let’s do this thing,” she said.

  * * *

  True to his word, later that afternoon, they headed to the city and Union Station. A brisk wind whirred and danced through Denver’s downtown corridor of buildings. Zed was surprised to find a moderate amount of people on the city streets Christmas Day. He guessed many of them might have been tourists.

  Tasha whistled against the cold and the snowflakes that waltzed with the wind. The light, trendy red coat she’d grabbed apparently wasn’t warm enough.

  He took off his scarf and put it around her neck.

  “Zed, you’ll freeze!”

  He grit his teeth against the cold. As much as he was uncomfortable, there was something about Tasha that made him happy to take care of her. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, at least let’s take the free shuttle to get us there quicker,” she said.

  He nodded.

  They scurried to the corner to catch the next shuttle. By the time they arrived at Union Station, the old feelings of anxiety started to return. While his initial visit to Union Station with Tasha on her birthday was hard, it was just the tip of the iceberg. Now his deeper fears and hurts were bubbling to the surface. Tasha grabbed his hand and squeezed it as if she sensed his apprehension.

  Her kind gesture touched him. “Man, as a kid, I had a love-hate relationship with this place.”

  He guided them toward the entrance and held open the door for her.

  They went inside and she followed him to one of the high vintage booths. He sat, and a huge breath whooshed out of him. “A part of me hates how my dad changed this place for me.” Zed paused. His eyes roamed the vast structure. “He made me loathe it.”

  He took a moment to do a little people watching before he continued. “He was the happiest I ever saw him when leaving to go away on business—I mean, like sublime pleasure for real. He never looked at my mother or me that way. It’s been hard to come here. For me, it’s a harsh reminder of abandonment, rejection and being second choice. When I see all the happy families at the holidays, something I never had, it hurts. Nevertheless, there’s a part of me that wants to love the place and everything it stands for at Christmas—love, joy. As a little kid, I wondered what was wrong with me. Why was I so unlovable that Dad couldn’t feel about me the way he felt about his job?”

  “Oh, Zed. I’m so sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  “Have you forgiven him?”

  His lips formed a rigid line. “You figure he deserves that?” he said coolly.

  “He doesn’t,” she replied.

  Her answer caught him off guard.

  “None of us do. But that’s what Christmas is about. The beauty of God’s forgiving heart toward us.”

  “Tasha, I decided to come here today to take back my life, to take back the joy of the holidays he stole from me.” He let out a hard breath. “Oh, man. I’m sorry for being such a downer. And on Christmas, too.”

  Tasha shook her head in protest. “You spoke your truth. You needed to vent. And that’s what friends are for. To listen and sometimes just be there.”

  He pulled her up and gave her a friendly hug. “Thank you.”

  She gently patted his back. When she pulled away, he readied himself for a confession. “Believe it or not, this trip wasn’t just about me.”

  Tasha looked confused.

  “I remember how you said your holiday breakups made you feel—unappreciated and less than.”

  “Thanks for the reminder. I thought you didn’t want to be a downer.”

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he announced. “Wait here.” He sprinted to the Hotel Crawford front desk, which was inside Union Station. A customer service agent from behind the desk handed him a decorative shopping sack. He headed back her way.

  “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

  “Why?”

  “Were you a difficult child, too?” he teased.

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes.

  He removed a tiara from the sack and placed it on her head.

  “What in the world?” She reached up and felt around her head. Her eyes flew open.

  Next, he removed a bouquet of roses from the bag.

  “Zed!” Tasha cried.

  He handed the flowers to her and held his arm out for her to take.

  “I feel like Miss America.” She rapidly looked around. “Is there a runway somewhere? I’m warning you. I won’t participate in the swimsuit competition. I’m against it, on principle.” He heard the teasing in her voice.

  “Did you ever consider a career as a stand-up comedian?” he asked.

  She blushed. “No, not really.”

  “Good thing,” he quipped. “Now, enough with the jokes. Just follow me.”

  He led her toward the exit.

  “But we just got here,” she cried.

  “Trust me.”

  Once outside, he guided her to a horse-drawn carriage in front of the building. The carriage, driver and horses were dressed festively. The impressive equines were white as winter snow.

  She gazed at him, her eyes sparkling with wonder. “What’s going on?”

  He just grinned as he led her to the carriage and nodded toward the driver. Zed extended his hand to her. “My
lady.”

  After helping her into the high seat, he joined her. There was a thick plaid blanket on the seat. Zed placed it around their legs.

  “Just one moment, sir,” he said to the driver. He quickly texted on his phone.

  One of the horses neighed. Both animals shuffled and shimmied as the driver spoke softly to them.

  After a minute or so, a young woman wearing an apron exited the station and walked their way. She held two paper cups.

  “Can’t have Christmas without hot chocolate,” he announced.

  The girl handed them the steaming cups, and he gave her a hefty tip. “Thanks.”

  “We’re ready now,” he told the driver. The driver made a clucking sound with his tongue and jostled the reins. The horses began to slowly move.

  Zed noticed passersby observing Tasha with interest.

  “Zed, although I appreciate the thought, I feel a little silly wearing this tiara.”

  He turned her way. “That may just be the point.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  “Maybe you’ve been a little uncomfortable celebrating yourself, like God and others do. You’re kind with a big heart. You help so many others and make them feel special. Today’s your day.”

  “I’ve never liked attention,” she said.

  “Nevertheless, you didn’t deserve to be dismissed and made to feel invisible by those guys who broke up with you during the holidays.” His gaze connected with hers. “They were idiots. They discarded a rare treasure—a princess.”

  “A princess? Really? Don’t you think that’s a bit of a stretch?”

  “No. Consider this. God calls Himself the greatest King. You’re His daughter. That makes you a princess.”

  She broke eye contact with him. “In my past I never felt that way. Whenever I was vulnerable with guys before, I always found myself crushed like a delicate flower under a boot.” Her gaze reconnected with his. “Thanks for making this Christmas so special. It’s one of the best I’ve had. Ever. You’ve set the bar high. I just wish I could do something for you today. To make it special for you, too.”