He adores watching the seasons change at their leisure, too, and has admitted in the dead of night, in a hushed whisper, that he thinks he might like autumn the best. But I am not to tell a soul. He’s the Holly King, after all.

“Take it from me,” says Felix. “A spring wedding is the way to go.”

Felix finally gave Marilou the big wedding of her dreams in April, and their relationship is still going strong, so he believes his curse has broken and he is now an expert on all things wedding and marriage. “Felix,” I groan. “Stop giving Hall ideas. I’ve already settled on wearing a velvet cape over my wedding dress, and a giant crown that looks like it’s made of icicles. I’m going to be a vision for the ages. Icicle crowns and velvet capes don’t fit with spring!”

He talks over me. “And of course, I’m going to be in charge of the bachelor party.”

“No,” I reply in tandem with at least five other voices.

Felix is undeterred. “You’ll have to lock down my services soon, because my calendar’s filling up. Shooting starts in June.”

“You’ll be finished long before December,” Mom reminds him.

“I know. But we’ve gone thirty minutes without talking about my movie, which gives me indigestion.” Leon of Naples will be filming in Toronto. My sisters and I will be there to lend our enthusiastic support.

“Felix.” Hall pivots. He’s wearing the hall i want for christmas is you sweater, which has a few runs in the fibers from excessive wear. “Tell me every little molecular detail about your movie.”

“It’s a good movie.” Dad clears his throat, sitting forward earnestly. “Very fun, very strange. I’m proud of you, Felix. And all of your creative endeavors.” He drums his fingers on his knees.

Felix glows. “Thank you, Dad and favored brother-in-law. Well, it starts with an old-timey man called Neapolitan—” We all groan.

Sean tosses a blueberry muffin at my brother’s head.

Grandma cranks up the volume of the TV, drowning him out. Felix throws her a peeved look. But soon, even Hall and his award-winning attentiveness can’t resist the allure of Freeform’s 25 Days of Christmas programming. “Is this . . . ?” His face colors.

It is the 1966 classic How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

“I will not,” he declares, beginning to rise to his feet, but I shove him back down.

“Yes, you will. You’re going to finish this movie.”

Hall’s eyes darken. He crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “Fine,” he grumbles. “I will finish this movie. But I will not enjoy it.”

The movie is twenty-six minutes long. By the end, he is in tears.

“I just!” He lifts his arms. “That’s so!”

“I know.” I rub comforting circles on his back.

“They got all their presents! They got their roast beast! I never knew.”

“The Whos and their goodness made him want to be a better Grinch. Reminds me of someone else I know.”