"That would be nice," she said. "I usually visit my mom, but she went on a cruise and won't be back until early January."

"Aren't families great?" I said sarcastically.

She shrugged. "They are what you make of them. I've never once been nominated for Daughter of the Year, so I can hardly complain."

I laughed. "So you'll come for Christmas Eve?"

"Yeah, it'll be nice. You aren't planning on throwing any more food at the cactus, are you?"

"I'll try my best to avoid that."

"That's good. Just wanted to make sure that it wasn't some kind of holiday tradition."

"Nah, nothing like that." I leaned my head on hers. "I'm glad you can make it. It'll be nice doing this together."

I wasn't at all sure how Spring was going to respond to Christmas. She'd been fine on Thanksgiving, and I wondered whether little kids handled grief during holidays the same way that adults did. I also didn't know how much of a big deal Diane had made of Christmas in the past. I remembered Diane telling me that she didn't like to go overboard on the holidays because she didn't think it was right that some days be predetermined to be more special than others. Perhaps for this reason, Spring wouldn't see the next couple of days as harder without her mother than others. Still, I was especially conscious of not making this too much of an event, while at the same time trying to make it memorable.

On Christmas Eve, Spring, Billie, and I watched "It's a Wonderful Life" and "Elf." In the latter, I wondered how Spring was going to feel about Buddy's search for a relationship with his father, but she didn't seem affected by it. Then, it was time for Spring to go to bed. Having never had a kid waiting for Santa, when I wasn't imagining her miserably pining for her mother, I anticipated Spring's face pressed to the window waiting for the scarlet sleigh. We had monitored Santa's travels over the evening by watching the news and their "Santa radar." But getting Spring to bed hadn't been difficult at all. She had even said, "please, please, please," when requesting to skip her bath. Since it was Christmas Eve, I told her that this was okay. I read her The Night Before Christmas, then she drank her water and passed on the song. She wanted to get to sleep because she had heard from Mrs. Eckleburg, whose word could be trusted in the gravest of matters, that Santa wouldn't come if she was awake. Spring didn't want to risk being skipped over. Before she went to sleep, I did a little penguin waddle around her room before she said, "Good night!" for the third time. I thought it was a good sign that she was feeling excited.

"Good night, Spring," I said, kissing her on the cheek and hugging her. "I love you." It was the first time I'd said that to her, but if it had special meaning to her, she didn't give any indication. I kissed her one more time and then left the room.

Outside her door, I waited to overhear her conversation with Diane. I didn't wait long.

"Mom?"

When the table lamp clicked, I heard her pick up the picture of her mother and say, "Merry Christmas, Mommy."

I couldn't see what Spring was doing, but her voice cracked on the last word. She sniffled before she continued.

"Mommy, I miss you. Do you miss me? Can you come visit? I know you can't stay, but maybe you could come for a little while." She drew in a deep breath, sniffled again, and a minute or so went by quietly. "Merry Christmas, Mommy," she said again, and then put the picture down and turned off the light.

I took a deep breath of my own, while walking down the hall. And then another. By the time I got to the living room, I'd pretty much gotten myself under control. I went to drink wine and sit with Billie under the blinking lights of the malformed blue spruce with the branches that still hadn't "laid down."

"Everything go okay?" Billie said.

"Yeah, it's fine. Her conversation with her mother got to me a little."

"Does she talk to Diane every night?"

"She does, but not for as long. There used to be nights when it would go on for ten minutes. Now, it's just a few words before she falls asleep. Tonight, she seemed a little more emotional than usual." I shook my head as I heard Spring's voice in my mind. "I think she's feeling a little lonely."

Billie slouched into the couch. "It's tough to blame her under the circumstances. She probably worries about you disappearing on her, too."

"Not gonna happen."

She tilted her head sideways and looked at me. "It's not, isn't it?"

I nodded. "Not if I can do anything about it. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what I would do without her anymore."

Billie reached for my hand and squeezed it. "That is so adult. I envy you. So the search for Dad is officially off?"

"I'm not sure it was ever officially on. I don't think I ever really wanted to find him other than to punch him out for not being there for Diane."

"You know what that makes you, don't you?"

A pre-fab. Yes, I knew. "You know what it makes me? Glad, that's what."

Billie sipped her wine and offered me a smile that I hadn't seen before. "Yeah, that's what I was going to say."

She took another sip and sat back on the couch.

"Hey! she said suddenly.

"Hey what? "

"Did you get me a present?" Billie raised her eyebrows. "I've got one for you."

"Present, damn, I knew I forgot something, I said, reaching under a lanky branch and sliding the package from its hiding spot. "Don't shake it."

Billie inspected the box. It was about the size of a basketball and wrapped in red foil with a gold bow.

"Don't shake it," I said.

"I'm not going to shake it." She reached under the fold of the wrapping.

"Wait," I said, touching her hand, "don't just open it. I have something to say first."

She threw me an exaggerated look of exasperation. "Well?"

"Just that, it's been a tough few months for Spring and me." I wasn't sure where to go with this and I suddenly felt awkward. "Thanks for being around. It means a lot to me."

Billie shrugged. "De nada," she said as she broke through the paper and tape, and removed the carousel music box I'd gotten her. "Oh, D, I've always wanted one of these. How could you possibly have known that?"

"I cheated. I called your mom to get your grandmother's phone number."

"You called Wilhelmina?"

"She always sounded pretty cool from the way you talked about her, and you've told me that you like to talk to her more than anyone in your family. I thought she'd be a good one to ask what you might really want. After I agreed to report any of your indiscretions to her just kidding, it sounds like she thinks of you as a saint. I almost thought I had the wrong person on the line Wilhelmina said you always wanted a carousel music box. This one plays Lara's Theme." I took the box from her, wound it and the song began to play. "I tried to get one that played Love the Way You Lie, but they don't make any. I ran my finger over a porcelain horse. "Wilhelmina said she was looking forward to hearing from you on Christmas Day and asked that I remind you not to forget her birthday in February again...something about turning 20?"

"Our joke. Wilhelmina was born on the twenty-ninth. That means she's close to 80, or 20 if you only count leap years, which is why I forget her birthday three out of four years." The song stopped and she wound the silver handle to play it again. "I can't believe you found this. I love it. Ever since I was a little girl... Of course, it goes with nothing in my apartment. Sometimes, when I'm alone, you know, in one of those moods...I grab a latte and check the antique dealers. I never thought I'd find...oh, Dylan. She leaned over and kissed me quickly on the lips. As she did, her hair fell across my face.

"Now you open yours, she said, sliding out a small package from behind Spring's gifts. "It isn't like the one you got me, but I hope you like it."

While the music box played on, I removed the striped green-and-white paper from the box. I couldn't recall mentioning anything I might want, and I didn't have a Grandmother Wilhelmina for Billie to call. I opened the box and removed an envelope, which contained a picture of a house on the ocean. "You bought me oceanfront property?"

"Dream on," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's supposed to represent a bed and breakfast in Cape Cod."

"Cool."

"Spring told me you said you'd take her to Cape Cod. Well, she said you promised to take her to 'Cod.' I thought maybe the three of us could go when the season opens in April. Isn't her birthday in April?"

"Yeah, the 6th." I was surprised. "The three of us?"

"If you want."

Although a little girl slept in the other room waiting for Santa, I thought of no urn, no suitcase, no key, no pictures, and no Diane. If only for a moment, the woman next to me made everything else in my world disappear. "Billie." I almost blurted out a lot of things that I wasn't prepared to blurt out. In the end, I simply stated, "I wish I knew you better."

"What?"

"I want to know why you like curry with your oatmeal. I want to know why autumn is your favorite season. I want to know why a woman who dances the way you do always wanted, I pointed, "a carousel music box."

"I'm just so complex, aren't I? she said, smiling. The moment seemed suspended, and I thought I could see Billie thinking about what to do next. Then she stunned me by looking at her watch. "We can 'get to know each other some other time, D-Man. I have to go."

"You have to go?"

"If I'm not in bed by midnight, Santa won't come."

Before I could protest further, she stood up, got her coat and picked up the music box. "This really is great. Thanks again."

We kissed goodbye in the blinking lights of the twisted tree and Billie left. She'd exited so quickly, that I wondered if I'd done or said something that offended her. It definitely felt like the rug had been pulled out. Only moments earlier, I had come dangerously close to gushing.

I returned to the couch to finish my wine. My head was still spinning from the evening's abrupt end and no Norman Rockwell wannabes were going to be capturing this moment on canvas. But I was still feeling more okay than I had felt in a while. A lot of things in my life needed work, but it was work that I was more than willing to do.

At one point, I thought I saw an anxious little girl peek around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa.

Chapter 14.

Happy Dinosaur I got up before Spring in the morning because I wanted to be there when she awoke. She went to the living room to check under the tree and found me sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee.

"Looks like Santa found you," I said.

"Yeah?" she said, checking the few large packages under the tree.

I knelt next to her and she turned toward me with a package.

"What is this?" I said with a smile.

"Open it."

I unwrapped with enthusiasm and removed a ceramic coffee mug with a man's face on it. It was a cartoon from the New Yorker.

"Thank you, Spring. I love it."

"Now you don't have to drink out of plastic anymore. You never spill."

"That was very thoughtful."

"Yeah. Billie helped me." She smiled. "That was our big secret. She didn't tell you, did she?"

"Billie? She's the best secret-keeper in the world. I hugged her. "It's really great."

She looked back to the presents.

"Here," I said, pulling out a small but heavy present. "Open this one. It's from me, not Santa."

She unwrapped the silver-and-gold foil and stuck the bow on her head. I'm guessing Diane used to do the same thing.

"What are they?" she said when she took the item out of the box. She seemed very confused. Not a good sign.

"I found those with some of your old clothes. They're your old baby sneakers. I had them bronzed for you."

I quickly realized that this was no little kid's idea of a Christmas present.

"Oh."

"You'll appreciate the shoes when you get older."

"Yeah."

"Open that one."

She did. Inside was a stuffed Piglet, which she immediately liked better than the bronzed shoes. She gave it a little introductory hug and then made her way through the rest of the presents. She seemed to like the penguin slippers and the iPod Nano which I'd loaded with hundreds of great songs; it was never too early to get a rock and roll education and she really liked the chocolate candy canes.

I handed her a box from Billie. She opened it and seemed utterly baffled by the contents.

"What's this?"

I looked at the plastic card. "It's a gift certificate to Saks," I answered, though I might as well have spoken to her in German. "I think Billie wants to turn you into a shopaholic."

When we were finished, I made my annual holiday call to my brother, Scotty, and said hello to my sister-in-law. She wanted to send Spring a present. They sounded like they were doing well. Before we hung up, Scotty told me that now I'd understand.

"Understand what?"

"Why Mom and Pop didn't want to have any more kids."

"Huh?" He reminded me that I was a mistake. That's what brothers are for.

"If you have kids, your life changes. No more freedom, no more parties, no more fun."

"You get that vasectomy yet?"

"Don't need one. Trust me, we take more safety measures than they do in the West Wing."