While Mimi set the ornaments out on the coffee table, Christina covered the dining room table with Dutch and French cheeses, crackers, olives, chips and salsa, and a crockpot steaming with homemade chili. She put wine on the kitchen counter where small people couldn’t reach and set paper cups next to an unbreakable jug filled with watered-down organic orange juice. Louise had warned Christina not to serve sugared juice to children; it would make them even more hyper.

Louise and Dora came first, followed by lanky Jacob, who had made miniature kites from Christmas wrapping paper to hang on the tree.

“Oh, Jacob! These are adorable!” Christina kissed his cheek and pretended not to notice that he blushed bright red. “Come have some wine.”

Other island friends, with or without children, streamed in the door, and soon they were gathered around the tree, decorating the fragrant pine with silver bells and scallop shells glued to red ribbons and angels, snowmen, snowflakes, and dozens of other ornaments.

Christina tried not to look at the door every five seconds, but she wondered where Wink and Andy were.

Then the door flew open and two people stepped inside, shaking raindrops off their parkas.

Wink. And her mother.

“Are we too late?” Wink asked.

“Never too late,” Christina said. “Dora’s here. Why not help her decorate the bottom of the tree? It’s hard for us old people to get down there.”

“Yay!” Wink skipped off.

“Welcome, Delia,” Christina said, trying to inject some warmth into her greeting.

“Andy isn’t coming. He had to fly back to the city.” Delia dropped her parka on a chair and stood in front of the hall mirror, patting her hair into perfection.

Christina’s heart sank. “Oh. Well.” She didn’t dare let on how disappointed she was. “But you’re here! Come in and have a glass of wine or eggnog and meet everyone.”

Delia looked like she’d rather have a root canal, but she followed Christina into the living room.

“Everyone!” Christina yelled. “This is Delia, Wink’s mom. Introduce yourselves.”

Bathroom, she mouthed at Mimi, who was refilling a plate of cookies.

In the privacy of the bathroom, Christina stared at her reflection. Her Inner Christina muttered, Stop it. Get a grip. He’s probably with the gorgeous Anastasiya. Grow up. Slap a smile on your face. Life goes on.

Someone knocked on the door. Christina jumped.

“Christina,” Mimi whispered. “Are you in there talking to yourself?”

Christina opened the door. “How did you know?”

“Hey, kid, when you get to be my age, you’ll know everything.” Mimi took Christina’s hand. “Come on out and have fun with your friends.”

Christina saluted Mimi. “Aye aye, cap’n.”

She was surprised—no, shocked, really—to see that in the short time she’d been away from the living room, Delia and Jacob had struck up a conversation. Delia and Jacob?