She watches both Alice and Tess as they move between the box and the tree, tentative and careful. Helen wasn’t religious. But some years she dabbled in Eastern religions of all kinds, made everyone meditate. Other years, she made them go to church for the community. She believed in parties, food, coming together—naming ceremonies instead of baptisms, Michaelmas some years, solstice parties—December twenty-first and Helen calling everybody back together early, a fire in the backyard and making resolutions late into the night—midsummer celebrations, birthday parties with too-big cakes and preordained themes. There was value in coming together, Helen said.

Now Kate knows it’s her job to give this to her children. She does not believe in heaven or hell, ghosts or spirits, but she does believe, there or not, Helen will know if Kate doesn’t keep all of this up.

She lets Tess and Alice place the last few ornaments. They’re careful with them. Alice, who is the tallest, stands on tiptoe to fill the spaces that Kate’s missed. Tess holds a handful of silver bells and lays them over a thick branch, both hands, careful. She looks at Kate as if for her approval, stands back.

“I can turn the lights on?” Kate says.

“The lights,” Tess says. “Of course.”

Kate crawls behind the tree to reach the outlet. Her shirt rides up and she imagines Tess seeing her belly, the way her ass looks in her jeans that have, in the months since Helen’s death, become too tight. She plugs in the lights and stands up, steps back. The whole tree is bright and brilliant. Helen would be proud.

Alice takes a picture, which surprises Kate but is pleasing. Tess stands still and smiles, her eyes maybe wet. Kate takes a picture too, posts it to Instagram.

“It’s lovely, Kate,” Tess says, both hands in her back pockets.

Behind them they hear Stella cry. Tess starts, heads toward the stairs. Kate stays frozen, nervous, certain that whatever’s happened, her kids will be found to be at fault.

“It’s already starting,” Alice says to Henry, escaping back into the kitchen.

She texts the picture of the tree to Maddie. She thinks of where Maddie might be in the condo: reading on the couch, watching TV, sitting close to Quinn. The phone that Maddie has is one that Alice gave her, an iPhone that Henry tried briefly but didn’t like. That Alice still pays the bill is something that she figures Quinn must know but no one talks about.

“What?” asks Henry, who is already looking out the window toward the barn. Henry is never wholly present when he’s not working. Alice understands this, though she sometimes wishes there were more space for her, too, to disappear herself.

“Your sister,” she says. “One of the boys hit Stella, and now Tess is threatening to go home.”

“She won’t do it,” he says.