With that, she held out her hand to Bismarck. And when his tail began to wag, she told me to take him off the leash. I watched as she called him, and the two headed for the kitchen.

I wandered outside to watch my nieces splashing in the water. My father smiled as I approached. “Has Mom had brain surgery?” I asked.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“I guess you would know.” I told him about Bismarck. “And now she’s got him in the kitchen while she puts the finishing touches on dinner. And she’s talking to him like he’s human.”

“There are many things about your mom that you don’t understand.”

“Am I supposed to?”

“Absolutely not.” He put his arm around me and pulled me closer. “That’s the dog who probably saved your life. And there’s no way she’s ever going to forget that. He can shed every bit of his fur while he’s here, and she’ll stuff a commemorative pillow with it.”

Touched, I cleared my throat. “The girls love him.”

“Have you heard from your sister?”

I shook my head and he didn’t pursue it. I thought he probably knew that once we started to discuss Wendy’s whereabouts, the conversation would rapidly deplete his already limited energy and strength.

“Holly and Noelle have brightened up since you took over. Thank you.”

I was spared having to reply through the lump in my throat, because at that moment the girls got out of the pool.

Dinner was surprisingly well received by both parents, and afterward my father took the girls and Bismarck into the media room to set up The Muppet Christmas Carol, which had been a favorite of mine as a little girl. I was pretty sure that, in their hearts, I was still seven years old.

My mother and I cleared counters and put food away. She asked the question I’d been waiting for as we dished up the raspberry ice to take into the media room.

“Have you heard from your sister?”

“Dad asked, too. I haven’t. She should be calling soon.”

“Will she be home for Christmas?”

“I can’t predict, Mom. I wish I could.”

“This whole thing is beyond comprehension.”

I could hardly argue. “The girls and I made a few Christmas things together this afternoon. But I think I need to buy a tree and decorations for the town house.”

“Wendy may reappear, and Bryce is usually on shore over the holiday.”

“Be that as it may, it’s sneaking up. They can use a little Christmas spirit right now, even if they head back to Connecticut later.”

“I have all our old decorations. All the things you and Wendy made in school, the flickering lights you loved. Remember those?”

I pretended I did, because clearly, Mom had saved them with me in mind. “They still work?”

“Your father bought a million replacement bulbs in case they were ever discontinued. But you can have anything in those boxes. I haven’t put up a tree in years.”