"Thank you," said the man as Gayle handed him back his change.
"Have a happy holiday, sir."
"You, too."
The man gave her a slight smile, picked up his packages and headed out into the bustling crowd of people doing last minute shopping.
Stopping briefly on the sidewalk outside the mall, Ronald Sandoval tugged at the collar of his overcoat and lifted it up as protection against the chill in the air. Lost in thought, he began the walk home; it was only a few blocks and he wanted time to think...
Sandoval's Apartment. 10 p.m. Christmas Eve
Putting the finishing touches to the wrapping, Sandoval looked at the two small piles of presents. One was for the few acquaintances that bought him presents - old FBI acquaintances mainly, though Kincaid had surprised him with a first edition copy of A Tale of Two Cities - the other was far more personal.
Eyes filled with thoughts far removed from him sitting alone on his study on Christmas Eve, Ronald Sandoval picked up the small pile of parcels and put them in the old oak chest at the foot of his bookshelves. His fingers lingered over each brightly wrapped object as he put them in the chest.
This was the antique teddy bear...
This was the kite...
The remote-controlled miniature Rolls Royce...
The flat one was the box containing the jigsaw of Mount Rushmore...
His hands lingered longest on the biggest and heaviest of the packages... This was a piece of him, a piece of his past... His train set, given to him when he was eight...
Stifling the longing in his heart, Ronald Sandoval closed the lid of the chest; taking the key out of his pocket, he locked it and murmured softly, "One day, I'll open this again. You'll be here too and I'll be able to share them with you..."
Sandoval turned his back on the chest and turned his attention to the other presents. He had a couple of last minute stops to make, one at Quantico and one at the Washington Embassy. After that he could come home - alone - and spend another Christmas in solitude.
With any luck, the thought of the son out there that he had never seen, the son spending the holidays with people other than him; would not cross his mind more than about a dozen times during the course of the day.
One day, come what may, he would find his son and he'd get the opportunity to know him, to watch him grow, to spend Christmas with him, to play with him, to laugh with him, to hug him close... one day.