When the family came to the island every summer to stay with Christina’s mother’s parents, Christina’s father calmed down and actually enjoyed himself, for almost two weeks. Sometimes he walked on the beach with her. Sometimes he took her into town for ice cream. Sometimes as they sat in the backyard eating dinner at the long table with her grandparents, sometimes Christina’s father would laugh. Sooner or later, he would get a phone call, or later, a fax, or later, an email, and he’d frantically pack his bag and leave for Washington.

Christina didn’t know how her mother could live with such a nervous man. But she did know, in the way children know without words, that her mother loved her husband and that he loved her. Often, when she was going through a tough time, she thought her mother loved her husband more than she loved Christina.

I won’t marry a man like my father, she’d decided. I won’t marry an important man. You miss too much of life rushing around being important.

—

With tears in her eyes, Christina forced herself back to the present. Opening the lid to a white box, she discovered a dozen paper snowflakes, each one crisp and unique. What fun she’d had the year she learned to fold a piece of white paper in half, cut in and out and carefully snip out diminutive triangles and circles, and unfold it to find an elaborate snowflake.

The cookie cutters were still in the utensil drawer. The recipes for the Christmas cookies and the gingerbread people were there, too, in a three-ring notebook. So were the scissors.

She could buy white paper from Nantucket Office Products.

Island Variety had lots of crafts material—sparkles and beads and felt…

She wondered if they still sold the artificial snow in a can that could be sprayed on a window to make a bell or a snowman or an angel.

Suddenly, she had an idea.

Chapter 5

The next morning, she called Andy with her plan. That evening after her shop closed, she and Wink hurried to Andy’s waiting car.

Christina took the passenger seat so she could show Andy where to turn. Wink sat in the back, leaning over Christina’s shoulder.

“Seatbelt, Wink,” Andy said.

“Aww. But I can’t see as well back here.”

“This car doesn’t move until you’ve buckled your seatbelt.”

Grumbling beneath her breath, Wink fastened her seatbelt.

“Go out Orange Street till you come to the rotary, then go left,” Christina said.

“I bought a tree stand at Marine Home Center,” Andy told her.

“Great! I found ours up in the attic. And Wink”—Christina turned toward the backseat—“I found the recipe for Christmas cookies.”

“I don’t know how to cook,” Wink said quietly.

“Well, you’ll be baking, and it’s really easy, and I’ll show you how.”

“Left here?” Andy asked.