David nodded. “We don’t have to do it tonight. But the fiscal year is coming up, and we’ll want to file it before then so you can start your benefits and get a line in the new catalog.”

I was on tiptoe to reach a pitcher for the wine, and David reached up and got it for me. “There’s a catalog?” I asked as I dropped to my heels.

His eyes were wide. “You want to remain anonymous? That costs extra, but okay.”

I shrugged, not knowing. “What’s everyone going to say when you show up at the company picnic with me?”

David poured half the wine into the pitcher and set it to heat in the microwave. “Nothing. They all think I’m rabid anyway.”

The smile wouldn’t leave me as I ladled out a mug of spiced cider. His motive might be slanted—wanting the extra security for his job—but we would both benefit. So it was with a much improved mood that we headed for the back door, his warmed wine and half-empty bottle in his hands, and my spiced cider in mine. The heat of the church had taken the chill from me, and I led the way into the living room.

David’s steps slowed while he took in the softly glowing room. Ivy and I had decorated, and purple, red, gold, and green were everywhere. Her leather stocking had looked lonely on the mantel, so I had bought a red and green knit one with a bell on the toe, embracing any holiday that got me presents. Ivy had even hung a little white stocking for Jenks that she had taken from her sister’s doll collection, but the jar of honey wouldn’t come close to fitting in it.

Ivy’s Christmas tree glowed in the corner, looking ethereal. I’d never had one before, and I felt honored she had let me help her decorate it with tissue-paper-wrapped ornaments. We had made a night of it as we listened to music and ate the popcorn that never made it onto a string.

There were only two things under it: one for me, one for Ivy, both from Jenks. He was gone, but his presents to us had been left behind in opposite bedrooms.

I reached for the handle of the new door, a lump in my throat. We had opened them already—neither one of us were good at waiting. Ivy had sat and stared at the Bite-me-Betty doll, her jaw clenched and her breathing almost nonexistent. I hadn’t been much better, all but crying upon finding the pair of cell phones in their foam box. One was for me, the other, much smaller one, was for Jenks. According to the receipt still in the box, he had activated it last month and even put himself on speed dial on mine.