Amy leaned over the banister, called up, “Jack, Molly . . . come on down.” They were responsible for the coats, putting them in the guest room, hanging them in the closet. She turned back to Eliza, who was still struggling with the buttons.

“My fingers are really cold,” Eliza said.

“Let me go get you a cup of hot tea. Would you like that?”

“Actually a glass of white wine would be even better.”

“Well,” Amy turned to the kitchen, “I was just headed that way for one myself. I’ll grab two. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

Amy walked as fast as she could without looking rushed through the parlor to the kitchen. She pushed the door open and exhaled with a grunt.

Celia looked up from a silver tray, where she was placing toasts with cream cheese and salmon in an artful display. “You okay, ma’am?”

“Argh, I have a guest who’s early. I can’t find Phil, and I desperately need another Chardonnay.”

Celia laughed. “Coming right up.” She wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the wineglasses. “Ma’am, you look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

“It’s amazing what a shower and some makeup will do.” Amy smiled, shooed her hand at Celia to move aside. “Celia, I can pour my own glass. But now I need two.” She began to walk toward the lined-up bottles of wine, soldiers ready for the battle of the Christmas party.

The golden liquid poured into the crystal glasses, Amy walked backward out of the kitchen, opening the swinging door with her hip. She returned to the foyer holding out a glass of wine while sipping her own. “Here, Eliza.”

Eliza stood in the middle of the foyer, her coat draped over her arm, scanning the surroundings. “You have a beautiful home. Very sweet . . . it must be what? A hundred years old?”

“Yes, I’m glad you like it. We love it. It has a great history and a lot of charm. Molly thinks it’s haunted—by good ghosts, of course.”

“How . . . nice.”

“Oh, look, you’re still holding your coat.” Amy leaned again over the banister and called louder for her children.

“We’re coming, we’re coming,” came a chorus of voices and pounding feet as they appeared in the foyer, Jack in front.

“Oh, Mrs. Lowry . . . hi.” Jack held out his hand for her coat. Molly mumbled hello behind him, rolling her eyes at Amy.

Eliza handed Jack her coat. “Hello, Jack. Where’s Lisbeth?”

“She said she was coming with you.”

“She did?” Eliza looked at Amy, then back at Jack. “Well, she wasn’t at the house when I left and I thought . . . I thought she drove separately earlier today.”

“No.” Jack shifted the coat in his arms and stepped down onto the landing. “She told me she was gonna shop for a dress, then come with you. Did you leave early?”