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“Night.” Esther suspected she would not be getting any sleep tonight.

20

Esther

Apparently, there was a pickle in the Christmas tree, and it was now Esther’s goal to find it before anyone else.

Suzie had woken them promptly at five that evening, just after sunset, her voice a singsong as she proclaimed, “Christmas is ready.” Esther had only the ghost of an impression that Ashley was a snuggler before Ashley leaped from the bed in shocked confusion, shaking the entire pile of fluff.

Ashley hip-checked Esther—bringing her back to the task at hand—as they both inspected a similar section of the tree. “You think you can beat me, love?” Ashley teased. “I’ve had years searching for this pickle. We have history.”

She wore a white, cable-knit sweater she’d thrown over her sleep shorts and tank top before they joined her parents in the living room, the hem of the sweater hanging just lower than her shorts. Esther’s eyes kept wandering from the tree to Ashley’s long, toned thighs flexing as she squatted, the contours lit dramatically by the light of the tree.

“That pickle knows who bought it.” Mr. Schafer, sporting some impressive bedhead to go with his red flannel Christmas robe, combed through the branches opposite Ashley. “Come to Daddy.”

Ashley cringed. “Dad, you can’t just say Daddy like that. I can’t unhear it now.”

“What?” His attention never strayed from the branches. “Iama daddy.”

Suzie sat peacefully on the sectional, with a cup of hot cocoa in hand and nary a worry nor care on her face. As the designated hider, her part in the game was done, and now she reclined, listening to her family banter like this was her guided meditation soundtrack.

Esther wouldn’t have thought something as out of place as a pickle would be so hard to find, but it turned out finding a small, green item in a large, green space covered in lights, ornaments, garland, and tinsel was quite challenging.

“Ah!” Ashley and Mr. Schafer both exclaimed, diving at a branch near Esther’s elbow. The whole thing shook as they tussled. Esther backed away from possible tree-toppling range, and two ornaments plunked to the tree skirt below. Suzie sipped her cocoa, unfazed. A brief moment of slapping and name-calling concluded with Ashley raising a tin pickle ornament over her head.

“So there really was a pickle.” Part of Esther thought it might have all been an elaborate prank.

“Mother,” Ashley proclaimed in a grand voice. “I demand my prize.”

“I let her have it.” Mr. Schafer looked rather put out. Esther sensed the source of Ashley’s competitive streak.

Ashley jumped up and down as Suzie pulled out a small, wrapped gift from behind a throw pillow. She unwrapped it, revealing a small bag of chocolate truffles.

“This is about the time Oma would call us silly Americans for putting pickles in our trees,” said Ashley, before cramming a truffle in her mouth. The three Schafers turned to a closed door off the living room with a small, cross-stitched verse hanging from it.

“When I was young,” said Mr. Schafer in an exaggerated German accent, “you’d be lucky not to get a smack for being terrible that year.” They all chuckled except Esther whose eyes widened in alarm at the casual child abuse joke.

“Gifts next.” Ashley grabbed two packages from under the tree and shoved them into her parents’ hands. “They’re from both of us.”

She plopped down on the couch next to Esther, crossing her legs so her bare knee rested on Esther’s. A shiver went down Esther’s spine as they touched. She wasn’t sure what to do. How would a girlfriend act in this situation? She shifted her hands from folded in her lap to resting on her knee to stretching overhead so she could rest her arm over Ashley’s shoulder. She made it to a fraction above their mark before chickening out and returning to her lap. She stared at her hands, wishing they were braver—that she were someone Ashley might actually want to date—when something soft dropped into her lap.

Esther blinked. “I get a stocking?”

“We weren’t sure who to expect.” Suzie tilted her head with a half smile.

“You’re sharing my stocking.” Ashley patted Esther’s knee, and Esther’s stomach clenched in response. The stocking was full of a stash of small gifts: nail polish, candy, a set of bookmarks Suzie’s church friend had stamped, an As Seen on TV device whose purpose Esther wasn’t entirely sure of, and hand warmers.

“To keep you warm in Romania,” Suzie added.

Once gifts were settled, everyone piled into the car and drove into town to look at Christmas lights. By the time they got back, Esther was on a first-name basis with Mr. Schafer—correction, Dale.

Suzie made everyone cocoa while Dale pulled out the peppermint schnapps and started a fire in the pit on the back porch. They gathered outside sometime around eleven, lounging on the deck furniture. Sparks from the fire leaped to meet the stars above. A cool winter wind blew at Esther’s back, but the fire, the schnapps, and Ashley’s arm draped around her shoulder on the two-seater couch kept the chill at bay. She couldn’t think of any place she would rather be.

“Guess what I heard, Ashybear.” Suzie continued without waiting for an answer. “The cheer coach at your high school says she’s retiring after her daughter finishes college. They’re going to be looking for someone new. That could be you.”

“Mom, that doesn’t have anything to do with micro science.” Ashley shifted in her seat. Maybe it was the peppermint schnapps, but Esther couldn’t remember Ashley’s supposed doctoral program either.

“Yes, but you loved cheerleading.” Suzie spoke with her hands, waving her free palm like she could summon Ashley’s agreement. “You were always so good. We just assumed you’d make a career of it.”