Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (82 page)

By
the
time
Luke
left,
she’d
given
up
her
rosy
idyllic
dreams
for
the
day
and
decided
that
she
simply
had
to
get
through
it.
The
mess
swallowed
the
room
,
but
only
Aggie
seemed
to
notice.
She
ignored
her
father’s
urging
to
relax
and
made
the
rounds
of
the
room
with
a
trash
bag,
stuffing
wrapping
paper,
ribbons,
and
packaging
in
it.

“Aunt
Aggie,
here’s
one
from
Luke.”

Her
heart
sank.
She’d
forgotten
to
insist
he
opened
his
before
he
left.
“Just
set
it
in
the
window.
I’ll
open
it
later.”

“Come
on,
open
it!”
several
voices
urged,
but
Aggie
refused.

“Who
is
next
then?”
her
father
asked.

“Laird.
He
has
only
opened
two.”

Eager
to
see
which
one
he’d
open,
Aggie
watched
closely,
but
what
she
saw
disturbed
her.
Laird’s
expression
was
fleeting
but
telling.
He
was
clearly
upset
and
yet
also seemed—smug
.
Though
tempted
to
call
him
on
it,
she
decided
that
it
wasn’t
the
time.

Several
jokes
about
the
size
of
the
present
erupted
from
the
room.
However
,
Vannie’s
quip
about
how
it
should
count
for
all
of
his
gifts
just
by
its size
earned
her
a
snarky
response.
Aggie
was
appalled.
“Laird!”

“Maybe
you
agree
with
her?
I
can
go
dump
it
in
the
van
with
all
the
other
stuff
you
decided
we
didn’t
deserve.”

Ron
pounced
on
that
quickly.
“That’s
enough,
Laird.”

“What—”

“I’m
sorry,
Laird.
It
was
a
bad
joke.
I
want
to
see
what
it
is.
Open
it.”

She
hated
the
relief
that
washed
over
her
as
he
complied,
giving
Vannie
a
half
smile.
As
he
pulled
the
guitar
from
its
case,
she
saw
joy
on
his
face
for
the
first
time
that
day.
Maybe
he
was
just
tired.
They’d
all
had
a
rough
few
weeks,
and
it
was
the
first
Christmas
without
Allie
and
Doug.
The
kids
would
feel
that—particularly
Laird
and
Vannie—wouldn’t
they?

The
horrible
sounds
he
tortured
from
the
instrument
made
her
wonder
if
she’d
regret
the
decision.
Lessons—she’
d
have
to
find
a
teacher
and
soon.
There
went
the
idea
of
not
having
any
activities
this
semester.
One
glance
back
at
him,
and
Aggie
didn’t
care
anymore.
Laird
was
laughing
at
something
Cari
said
and
showing
her
how
to
strum
the
strings
gently.
There
was
the
boy
she
knew
and
loved.

A
text
message
chimed
on
her
phone.
She
opened
it
to
see
a
picture
of
Luke
wearing
a
T-shirt
with
handprints
all
around
the
words,
“The
World’s
BEST
Uncle-daddy.”
A
second
message
followed
that
read,
“
Mom
did
it
with
the
kids
a
couple
of
weeks
ago.
Apparently
it
was
their
idea.
Thought
you’d
like
it.”