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About the Author: Vicki Weisfeld’s short stories have appeared in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, Mystery Weekly, Black Cat Mystery Magazine, and various anthologies. Two stories have won top awards from the Short Mystery Fiction Society and the Public Safety Writers Association. Her blog is at www.vweisfeld.com, and she’s a reviewer for the UK website, crimefictionlover.com. Her first novel is under contract with publisher Black Opal Books.
Bert held out the distinctive aqua-colored box and offered a wobbly smile.
“What’s this?” Veronika recognized Tiffany blue when she saw it and knew they couldn’t afford it, shouldn’t indulge themselves. For now, every penny should go toward their February 14 wedding or essentials for their new apartment. But curiosity about what was inside that box was building fast.
“It’s Hungarian Christmas!” Bert exclaimed.
He was right. It was December 5, St. Nicholas’s Eve, and St. Nicholas’s Feast Day, December 6, was well-celebrated in Veronika’s family. She’d told him about it in mouth-watering detail—the bright red fisherman’s soup, the fragrant stuffed cabbage, the luscious poppy seed and walnut rolls, the sweets. In the press of everything, she’d almost forgotten.
“And,” he continued, “you told me every Hungarian girl has to have a present on Hungarian Christmas.”
She’d said that? “Right.” She flushed.
Veronika untied the white satin ribbon, removed the box lid, and took out the small case within. Really, she couldn’t resist. In for a penny, she thought. Slowly she lifted the case’s hinged lid and gasped. “Oh! It’s beautiful! But, Bert, did you just win the New Jersey lottery? Or what? How can we afford this?”
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