Page 91 of Theo of Golden

Simone was not totally surprised, given the length of the gift box, that he was the owner of a new bow for his cello. He was surprised, however, by the excellence of the item, a genuine Emil Werner made of Pernambuco wood from Brazil. Exactly the sort he had hoped to own someday. Exactly the sort he had mentioned offhandedly to Theo when they drank coffee at the Chalice and talked about the cello.

The note, in Theo’s elegant script, included an encouragement:

There are songs in this bow that only you can play. Play well. For the angels.

Eight-year-old Lamisha unwrapped her package carefully, slowly, giddily. It was a large box in which were three smaller boxes. One was filled with paints, brushes, pencils, drawing pads, and a jeweler’s loupe. One was filled with all four volumes of The Wingfeather Saga by Andrew Peterson. The third was a pair of shoes, as blue as morpho, with short heels, made of patent leather, à la Dorothy’s in the story of the Wizard. (It was not a terribly practical gift, but what kind of Scrooge gives only practical gifts anyway?)

Lamisha also received a note:

There never was, there never will be another like you, dear child. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, a princess, a daughter of the King. Merry Christmas.

Adoringly,

Theo

And Ellen, the inventor of featherwood? What gift would be appropriate for her?

Per her instructions, after their “bird tour” months earlier, Theo had filled his gift of featherwood with bird feathers collected one at a time on his walks through town. Being on the lookout each day for stray bits of plumage had proven entirely delightful to him and a healthy exercise in attentiveness. The result was an astonishing array of beauty that became Theo’s favorite objet d’art in his apartment. It would, in fact, have been equally at home, and as impressive, in Mr. Ponder’s office. Its shape, size, color, texture, curvature, and composition rivaled any other piece in the whole of the consultant’s elegant building.

It was featherwood that Theo had in mind when he chose Christmas gifts for Ellen.

Four items seemed most suitable: a foldable handsaw, a compact cordless sander and drill, and a wood burner.

With the saw, she could cut the wood sections she would need. With the sander, she could smooth and buff the ends of the cut sections. The drill would replace the icepick as a tool for putting holes in one end of the wood and, with the wood burner, she could emboss her name or date, or both, on the bottom end.

Theo went to a local hardware store and purchased tools that were simple, lightweight, and safe, having in mind that Ellen would probably want to keep them with her on the Noble Invention. He assumed that, when necessary, she would be able to recharge the batteries at the Mission.

For good measure, Theo also purchased a scarf of Portuguese cashmere to include with the more utilitarian gifts.

Mrs. Gidley entrusted the rather large box to Jason at the bike shop, with the request that he deliver it to Ellen the week before Christmas. He was glad to do so and was able to put the gift in her hands at the Mission on Christmas Eve. Along with the gift, Theo had written a detailed letter that explained the various tools. He added the following suggestion:

In the future, perhaps you could make some of your featherwood pieces available for sale. I think many people would enjoy having one of their own.

It was a tantalizing possibility.

On a separate page of his letter, Theo had sketched a basic logo, a small feather, and the words “Oxbow Featherwood.” It was visible proof of his belief that Ellen, the artist, was capable, with some help, of becoming Ellen, the entrepreneur.

As she read his letter for a second time, at the sentence in which he called featherwood “a stroke of creative mastery,” she straightened up in her chair, smoothed her dress across her lap with her hands palms down, and looked self-consciously at her reflection in a nearby windowpane.

She would not disappoint Mr. Theo’s confidence.

She was also very pleased that, in his letter, all the subjects and verbs agreed.

She spent a considerable part of her rainy Christmas Day figuring out how she might store and transport the tools on her bike.

She also wondered if it might be possible to have her logo embossed on drinking cups like Jason had done.

The Christmas presents Theo chose for his friends had been painstakingly selected. For weeks in advance of the holidays, he listened and looked for clues as to what sort of gift they might like to receive, in hopes of purchasing items that were beautiful or useful or pleasurable to each recipient.

How else could he have known, for instance, that Addie collected antique glass and amber? Or that Grandmother Whitaker enjoyed word-search puzzles? Or that Mr. Ponder was an opera enthusiast?

In New York, on Christmas morning, he imagined each of them in Golden, in their various homes, opening their packages. Bestowals.

For all of them, Theo’s gift would be one among many. Except for Tony. He had no other boxes to open. Only Theo’s.

Tony did not typically “practice” Christmas. Still, he could not help but be childlike with wonder as he opened his single present. It felt a bit awkward, being by himself at the Verbivore, in the same chair where he sat when he and Theo drank brandy. Same dim light.

I must look pretty pitiful sitting here all alone.