Wrapped Up for Christmas. Katlyn Duncan

his chest as if she’d knocked the wind out of him. His wheezing breath billowed above them. ‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you scared me. I thought you were a damned ghost.’

      Angie smirked. ‘I’m not a ghost, Nonno.’ She took the cigarette and lighter from his hand and put them in the pocket of his thick knitted sweater. ‘Those things are going to kill you, you know?’

      ‘That’s what your nonna says, but my ticker is as strong as it was when I was fifteen!’

      Angie steered him inside and closed the door behind her, taking in the blazing heat of her home. It was worse in the summer as her mom insisted on cooking the same amount of food all year round. At least since Dad died. He had always been the grill-master, and after he had passed away, her mother saw no reason to change her cooking habits away from the kitchen. She hugged Nonno, sturdy as ever.

      A loud cackle caught her attention.

      Angie’s nonna, Emilia, held her hands in front of her, gesturing for Angie to come closer. As if she hadn’t been the one creeping behind the curtain. ‘Angela! Angela!’ The thick Brooklyn accent filled Angie with a warmth she hadn’t expected. The round woman pressed herself against Angie’s middle and squeezed. Even now, in the later end of her seventies, she still made Angie breathless with her hugs.

      Angie leaned her cheek against the top of Emilia’s head. Her gray-streaked hair was shorter than she remembered.

      ‘I think you’ve shrunk.’

      Emilia pressed her hands against Angie’s waist. ‘You too.’

      ‘It was so nice of you two to come and visit me,’ Angie said. ‘I missed you.’

      Emilia stiffened and took a step back, keeping her hands on Angie’s waist. A version of the terrible stink-eye that could send any man in a ten-foot radius skittering away had befallen Angie.

      ‘What’s with the face?’ Angie looked at Donato who suddenly found his hands fascinating.

      ‘Maria!’ Emilia barked, making both Angie and Donato jump.

      ‘You’ve done it now.’ Donato rubbed a hand over his stubbled cheek.

      ‘What did I do?’ Angie asked.

      Emilia darted from the room, and Angie followed her toward the kitchen. She barely had a moment to take in the boxes of Christmas decorations on the floor before approaching the raised voices of her mother and her nonna going at it.

      Angie peered into the kitchen, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever was happening. ‘Ma?’

      Emilia placed her hands firmly on her hips, and her bottom lip jutted out. ‘Tell her.’

      Angie’s heart warmed when she saw her mom, pear-shaped as ever, holding a wooden spoon tipped with gravy. Her mouth watered thinking of a home-cooked meal for once instead of take-out or airplane food.

      ‘Tell me what?’ Angie thought of all the possibilities of horrible situations. Was one of them sick? Dying? Did it have something to do with her coming home?

      Maria rolled her eyes. ‘Mom, can you give me a minute to say hello to my daughter?’ She darted across the room and kissed Angie on the cheek. Her skin was softer than Angie remembered. ‘Welcome home, Angela.’

      No one could stop Emilia when she was about to scold someone. ‘You had plenty of time to tell her, now you’re going to disappoint your only daughter.’

      Angie huffed. ‘Can someone fill me in?’

      Emilia crossed her arms and avoided eye contact by staring at the ceiling.

      Maria took Angie’s hands in hers. They were warm. ‘I told Nonna it wouldn’t be a big deal to you.’

      Angie’s gaze darted between her mom and Emilia. ‘What wouldn’t be a big deal?’

      ‘Nonno and Nonna had to leave their apartment.’

      ‘Rodents!’ Donato said from the doorway.

      ‘Disgusting,’ Emilia spat.

      ‘So, they’re staying with us for a little while.’

      Angie waited yet no one else spoke. ‘Is that all?’

      ‘Well,’ Maria said, dragging the word out longer than necessary. ‘They’re staying in your room. It’s bigger and more comfortable for them.’

      ‘I told Maria we could stay in the guest room,’ Emilia offered.

      Maria glared at her mother.

      Angie mustered a smile to appease her family. ‘I’ll stay in the guest room while I’m home.’ She had no intention of staying longer than necessary and moving her nonni out of the room for a week or so didn’t make any sense.

      ‘See!’ Maria shrieked and pointed the spoon at Emilia. ‘I told you it was fine.’

      Emilia grunted and sat at the table set for four.

      Maria led Angie to the chair she had sat on since she was a kid, gesturing her to sit. ‘Tell us all about your trip. I’m almost finished with dinner. I made your favorite.’

      Angie sat at the table, allowing the warmth of the house to envelop her into a tight hug. She was used to the wide-open space of her and Brett’s apartments. The house where she grew up felt smaller than it had the last time. But the laughter and happiness shining in her family’s eyes lulled her into a sense of security she hadn’t realized she had missed.

      ***

      Angie could barely keep her eyes open during dinner, even though her brain was three hours behind. She guessed the exhaustion from moving her life across the country and breaking up with the man she had expected to marry had finally caught up with her. At least she would soar over the potential jet lag.

      After saying goodnight to everyone, Angie headed upstairs to the guest room. She wearily carried her heavy feet down the long hallway toward the last door, lugging her suitcase behind her.

      Angie had slept in smaller confines in college, so she didn’t mind the change in her plan. The moment she pushed open the door, it rebounded back, smacking against her arm. Pain zipped through her elbow and she frantically rubbed the spot to make the radiating ache stop.

      Angie pushed the door open again, slower this time, and flicked the light switch. Against the back of the door, a folded-up treadmill blocked her way. She squeezed into the room, turning her suitcase to pull in behind her.

      In the far corner was a table, covered with scrapbooking supplies, and on the floor were about twenty photo albums. Next to that were even more Christmas decoration boxes, which her mom usually stored in the attic. Angie guessed that she hadn’t dared to pack them away since her dad had died. The rickety pull-down ladder to the storage space always terrified her mother.

      A headache formed behind Angie’s eyes and she rubbed the side of her temple, willing for it to go away. Adding physical pain to her mental anguish wasn’t going to help her get any sleep. She abandoned her other suitcases in the hallway, turned the light off, and flopped onto the bed. Moonlight poured into the room, throwing shadows across the walls.

      It wasn’t long before a single tear slipped down her cheek. Even in her own home, she couldn’t help but feel cast off. Days ago, she was a successful event planner for one of the most prestigious hotel chains in the country with a sexy, wealthy boyfriend and a fantastic apartment. Now she was back at home, in the town she had always wanted to escape from.

      Angie thought of the giant rock on Brett’s fiancée’s finger, and her skin prickled. Hot tears coursed down her face and she tightened her grip on the blanket around her as the memories of her relationship with Brett flooded her mind. He was the perfect boyfriend. When they were out together, he never seemed interested in other women. Though, they did keep their relationship a secret since he was her boss. Was that the appeal for him?

      Angie wasn’t the type to throw herself