Yes. My brother—also a newly fledged firefighter—was capable of sleeping with a brass band rehearsing at the foot of his bed. I got up and winced when my feet hit the cold floor. It was in the twenties outside, and didn’t seem much warmer inside. Not a night for running around barefoot or in pajamas. I threw on my clothes, then raced out into the hall, and headed up the stairs to the third floor of our overlarge Victorian farmhouse, where my brother lived in one of our many spare rooms.

On my way upstairs I passed my cousin Rose Noire who occupied yet another third-floor spare room.

“Rob’s awake,” she said. “His pager woke me from across the hall, so I woke him. I’ll make them some coffee.”

I could hear thuds and exclamations from down the hall. Rob was in motion. Had the noise awakened my twin sons? They’d only recently moved to separate bedrooms. Although it had been their own request and they were vastly proud of their new solo lairs, they were both still a little anxious when awakened in the middle of the night and prone to creeping into our room or each other’s.

I went back down and peeked into Josh’s room first. A few less beloved stuffed animals were scattered across the royal blue sheets and blankets on his bed. Both boys were fast asleep in Jamie’s room, curled up together beneath the bright red bedding. I pulled the door closed to make sure they didn’t wake when Rob came thundering down the stairs in full gear, including the world’s noisiest boots. He’d probably have tried sliding down the banister for greater speed if the polished oak hadn’t been completely swathed in evergreen and tinsel. Then when the noise died down, I slipped out again. Rob was standing in the hallway outside Michael’s and my bedroom door.

“Where’s Michael?” he stage-whispered.

“Here.” Michael stepped out of our room, still fastening bits of gear. “I’ll drive.”

“Right,” Rob said. “Meet you out front.”

I pitched in to help Michael with his gear. Rob clattered the rest of the way down to the front hall, where Rose Noire was standing beside the Christmas tree, holding two travel coffee mugs.

“It’s only instant,” she said as she handed one to Rob. “So I added just a hint of nutmeg.”

“But it’s caffeinated, right?” he asked as he grabbed the mug and opened the door.

“Of course.” Rose Noire looked mildly affronted that he’d doubted her, but given her fondness for trying to reform everyone else’s caffeine habits with odd-tasting herbal concoctions, I could understand why he’d asked.

Rob ran out. I finished fastening the last buckle holding bits of gear to Michael’s belt.

“Thanks,” he said, giving me a kiss. “And yes, I’ll be careful.”

“Where’s the fire?” Rose Noire asked.