It all made for a very unusual manger scene by the time they finally got all the animals gathered around the stable—except for the wolves, which Grandfather kept a little way down the slope toward the street, since the way they were straining at their leashes indicated that they were far too interested in the other animals.

After all that, the appearance of the holy family and the assorted angels, shepherds, and wise men was almost an anticlimax—well, except for the fact that the three wise men arrived leading two camels with magnificent bejeweled trappings. In spite of the many anachronisms, the pageant was a smashing success.

When it was over and the animals were being led off, we all turned around to face the enormous Christmas tree in the center of the square—which meant that anyone who had a back-row seat for the living Nativity now had a front row seat for the caroling—and after Randall ceremoniously plugged in the tree lights, Minerva Burke led us all in a half hour of Christmas carols before wishing us a merry Christmas and telling us to go home and start celebrating with our families.

Michael ducked out a little early with the boys. I stayed behind to make our excuses—no, we weren’t coming over to Mother and Dad’s for the evening—the boys were a little tired, and we had presents to assemble before we fell into bed ourselves.

“But we’ll see you bright and early on Christmas Day!” I said. Probably too early; all the grandparents were determined to be there when the boys woke up and saw their presents. I’d already made sure Mother and Dad could find their keys to the house so I wouldn’t have to let them in.

I took a circuitous route when I left the town square and kept my eye on my rearview mirror. Not that I really expected anyone to be following me for sinister reasons, but I couldn’t help worrying about being spotted by some well-meaning friend or relative who might try to catch up with me to congratulate me on my lucky escape or want to hear the details.

I finally turned into the familiar quiet, tree-lined street and then through the familiar gateway in front of the house that Michael’s friend Charlie now owned. An eight-foot fence that in summer would be covered with climbing roses and honeysuckle vines instead of snow and ice concealed a surprisingly large parking lot, a legacy from when the house had been chopped into eight or ten cramped apartments. By the time Michael had come to Caerphilly, a prosperous faculty member had turned the building back into a single-family dwelling, except for the basement apartment.