She hadn’t brought an umbrella with her, so when Christina reached her drive, she held her handbag over her head and raced to her door. By the time she got into the house, she was soaked.

Never before had she been so happy to see a Christmas tree in her living room, its small lights glowing on all the decorations. It was almost as good as having a friend there, welcoming her home, telling her to be of good cheer.

And that was a good thing, because her cat, curled up on the sofa, was totally unimpressed by Christina’s return. Mittens had made a cozy bed out of the Christmas afghan. She looked warm and comfortable and utterly uninterested in Christina. When she heard Christina enter the room, she merely opened one eye, took notice of Christina, and closed her eye, returning to her snooze.

“Nice to see you, too, Mittens,” Christina said sarcastically.

Christina shed her coat and shoes and dress in front of the door. She didn’t want to drip water all through her house. She hurried to her bedroom, slipped on her warmest robe, and pulled a pair of wool socks onto her cold feet. She made herself a cup of hot cocoa with a marshmallow on top, sat down on the sofa near Mittens, and called Louise.

“Dora has the flu!” Louise complained. “And Karl has it, too. Dora didn’t go to school and Karl didn’t go to work. I’ve been waiting on them both hand and foot all day. I’m exhausted. Lord, I hope you didn’t catch it from us.”

“Oh, Louise, how can I help?”

“Really? I’d love it if you could get us some groceries: 7Up and chicken noodle soup and saltines and several pints of Ben & Jerry’s for me.”

“I’ll go right now.”

“I owe you big-time. Just put the bags on the porch. I don’t want you breathing one atom from inside this house.”

“Do you need aspirin?”

“No, but thank heavens you asked, we’re almost out of Children’s Tylenol.”

“I’ll get that, too.”

“You’re an angel.”

Christina got dressed again, in sweatpants and a sweatshirt this time, and pulled on an ancient wool hat her mother had knitted her years ago.

The parking lot at the supermarket was crowded. Here were all the people who worked all day and had to do their shopping in the evening. As Christina pushed her rattling cart (why did she always get the cart with the squeaky, wonky wheel?) through the aisles, she stopped to chat with so many of her friends and acquaintances.

“Oh, poor Dora,” Susan Waters said. “I’ll make a big pan of lasagna and take it over to Louise tomorrow.”