For a moment, the group stalled, and then Christina put the first row of cookies on waxed paper, and Dora and Wink began a serious discussion of which colors to make the bell and the star and the snowman, and Allen asked Andy if he had just moved to the island, and Andy explained his situation, including the fact that his last name was Bittlesman, and conversation stalled again for a moment.

Louise broke the silence. “Where’s the Christmas music?”

“I’ve got it right here,” Allen said, tapping his phone.

The cheerful tune of “Frosty the Snowman” flowed through the air.

“Perfect,” Christina said. “Okay, let’s get busy. Everyone gather around the kitchen table. I’ve made several piles of cookies. We’ve got four colors of icing—red, white, green, and blue. You can use an icing bag, but I find a knife works as well. We’ve got lots of sprinkles. I have dibs on putting ribbon through the holes for hanging on the tree. Sometimes people get a little carried away with the holes.” She grinned at Louise. Last year, Louise had had a cookie decorating party and two boys had decapitated Santa and a gingerbread man.

They set to work. The girls concentrated on their cookies, murmuring to each other. Allen took a cookie on a plate and a small bowl of icing and set it on the floor in front of Chad, who squatted down and carefully, slowly iced his cookie.

“So this must be the first time you’ve ever been in a kitchen,” Louise said to Andy with a smug smile.

Christina opened her mouth to object. Louise was always a mischief maker, from kindergarten on, but this was insulting.

Before she could speak, Andy said, “Yes, that’s true. I’ve never been in a kitchen. We always had Cook prepare our meals. We had seven dining rooms, because Mother found it just too boring to eat in the same room every day. Of course we had dogs for tasters, in case someone wanted to poison us. We lost only three or four dogs that way.”

Both girls and even Chad were staring at Andy as if he’d grown another head.

Then Wink said, “Uncle Andy, that’s not true! You’re just being silly!” Looking around the table, she said, “We’ve never had dogs. Mrs. Janice cooks for us here, and Mommy cooks in the city and sometimes when Uncle Andy makes pancakes he lets me stir the batter.”

“Oh, dear,” Louise said. “Andy, I owe you an apology. I was trying to bait you.”

“No apology necessary,” Andy told her. “We did have a cook while my mother was ill, and my father hired Janice Harris to be his cook and housekeeper now that he’s older.”

“Janice Harris?” Louise asked. “Our Janice Harris?”

Andy looked puzzled.