The Gift of Christmas Present Read Online Free PDF Page B

sunny-looking kitchen with walls the color of butter and light wood cabinets with glass doors. She ran her hand across the sleek granite countertops. A bit cool perhaps, but at least they were a pleasant color, a nice sandy tone that resembled the beach on a summer’s day. She decided that so far this was her favorite room in the house.
    She quickly located a juice glass, filled it, and took it to Mrs. Daniels. “Here,” she said, worried that the old woman had fallen asleep. “You should probably drink this now. It’s good for your blood sugar level.”
    Mrs. Daniels frowned. “What do you know about blood sugar levels?”
    â€œMy mother was a diabetic.”
    â€œWas? Oh yes, I do seem to remember that you mentioned she had passed on. When was that?”
    â€œA few years ago.” Christine looked away. This wasn’t a subject she particularly cared to discuss with this woman.
    â€œYes, well, I’m sorry.”
    She nodded. “I’ll get back to your breakfast now.”
    Christine was relieved to be back in the kitchen. Before long she had a poached egg, a slice of wheat toast, lightly buttered, and a hot cup of strong coffee, with cream. She placed these on a tray with silverware and a napkin, then took them to the living room.
    â€œDid you want to eat in here?” she asked.
    Mrs. Daniels shrugged. “I might as well. Although, normally, I frown upon such practices.” She pointed to the glass-topped coffee table. “Put it there.”
    Christine returned to the kitchen to begin cleaning up. As she finished washing out the saucepan, she paused to look out the window over the sink and found herself staring at the large oak tree on the left side of the backyard. Something about its bare branches silhouetted against the pale gray sky held her attention in an almost haunting way. Then suddenly she realized that this house might have once been her biological mother’s home. She wasn’t sure how long Mrs. Daniels had lived here, but it seemed entirely possible that Lenore might have once stood right here at this very window, perhaps as a teen, and actually stared out at this very same tree.
    She went back into the living room to see that Mrs. Daniels was finished. “More coffee?” she asked.
    â€œYes, please. And for future reference, you don’t have to make it that strong.”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œUsually people make it too weak, so I always say strong. That was, however, too strong.”
    â€œRight.” Christine picked up the tray and wondered if she would ever do anything to this woman’s satisfaction.
    â€œEverything else was all right.”
    â€œThank you.” Christine paused for a moment. “This is a lovely home, Mrs. Daniels. How long have you lived here?”
    Mrs. Daniels frowned. “Oh, I’m not really sure. Let’s see, James and I got married in 1980, and we moved in here shortly after that. You do the math.”
    Christine nodded and smiled. “A long time ago, anyway.”
    But as she walked back to the kitchen, it hit her full force that her mother had indeed lived here, walked upon these very floors, looked out of these actual windows. She wondered which room might have been Lenore’s bedroom and if she might get to see it at some point. Also, she wondered about photos. So far she’d seen nothing. But why not? Oh, the questions that tumbled through her head as she refilled Mrs. Daniels’s coffee cup. If only there was a way to get this cantankerous old woman to talk without revealing her true identity. Because, like it or not, the more Christine played this game and the deeper she got into it, the more she realized it would be difficult to step out of. Perhaps she would never be able to divulge the truth to her grandmother.
    By noon Christine had done two loads of laundry and cleaned the downstairs bathrooms, Mrs. Daniels’s bedroom, and the kitchen. She’d