Bill Pronzini: Spook

As the family patriarch, or maybe as its oldest and only male member, I got to open my two presents last. Emily’s was a ceramic sculpture she’d made in her crafts class at school; she said it was an egret and I took her at her word, but I would’ve loved it if it had been a cockroach. And Kerry’s was—

A cell phone.

Emily let out a little whoop. “It’s a Nokia, just like mine. Only basic black.”

“His and hers,” I said. “Now we can both be noisy in public.”

“Cool! That is so cool.”

I looked at Kerry. She shrugged and said, “Well, you must be the hardest man in the world to buy for. Besides, now you won’t have to hang out in parking garages.”

She moved closer, and I put my arm around her. Emily came over and snuggled on my other side. Pretty soon she said, “This is the best. The best Christmas ever.”

Best Christmas ever for me, too. One to cherish, to be thankful for. A special Christmas for a very lucky man.