A Fine Gift

“Merry Christmas, mom and dad,” Jake said as he stamped the snow off his boots. “I know I’m a little early for dinner, but fear not, I bring libations.”

His father took the bottle of wine he offered. “Well, doesn’t this look nice?” he said, admiring the label (as well as the beautifully written copy on the back).

His mother joined them in the front hall. “What do you have there?”

“Jake brought us a bottle of wine,” said Jake’s father. “And, I say we open it now, before the rest of the guests show up. After all, what they don’t know can’t hurt them.”

The three of them chuckled as they made their way into the kitchen. Jake’s mother retrieved three glasses, and Jake’s dad poured.

“You know, your father and I took a wine class at the community center earlier this year,” Jake’s mother said.

“Well then, let’s see your skills,” Jake said.

Jake’s father sniffed the wine. “I’m getting a little bit of cassis and spicy oak on the nose. Maybe a hint of mocha, too?”

Jake’s mother took the first sip. “Black cherry? Plum, I think? Some savory herbaceous notes, too.”

“A lingering finish of toasty oak and blackberry,” said Jake’s father.

“Very nice, you two!” Jake gave a polite golf clap.

“Jake, this really is such a nice surprise,” said Jake’s mother. “Especially compared to previous years when you would just be so… Well, there’s no need to be critical in such a joyous season.”

“What do you mean, mom?” Jake said, smiling.

“She means you always buy us cheap gifts off that site you like so much,” Jake’s father clarified. “So, it’s nice to see you actually put some effort in for once. Get us something that shows you care. After all, you couldn’t buy a fine wine like this from a daily deal site, right?”

Jake’s parents laughed at this. Jake joined in, but just a touch too late.

“Wait a minute,” said his mother, narrowing her eyes. “You did, didn’t you? This is from that site.”

“Well, yeah,” Jake began, “but–”

Jake’s father cut him off. “How much, Jake? How much did you spend on this?”

“Seventy-nine dollars,” Jake said.

“Well, that’s a fine bottle then!” Jake’s mother said, her face brightening again. “More than we ever spend for ourselves!”

“For six bottles,” Jake said.

“Oh, jeez, Jake,” Jake’s mother cried.

“I did a holiday get-together with some friends this past weekend,” Jake said, hanging his head. “This was the one bottle I had left over.”

“So ungrateful,” Jake’s father muttered to himself.

“Now, dear.” Jake’s mother put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “It’s not all bad. He got us all those Cuisinart kitchen appliances for our anniversary. And for your birthday, a Sonos speaker. Surely name-brand things like that couldn’t come from some goofy deal site.” She turned to her son. “Right, Jake?”

Jake looked at his feet, saying nothing.

“Get out of my house,” Jake’s father said. When Jake didn’t move, he slammed his fist on the counter. “Now!”

Jake straightened up and reached for the wine.

But Jake’s father held up his hand. “No,” he said. “Leave the bottle.”