“Where’s her dad?” Jack continued. “Where’s Mr. Lowry? Isn’t he coming? Could he have given her a ride?”

“He got caught up at work. I don’t even know if he’s coming.”

Silence fell as cold as the ice Amy imagined in Eliza’s eyes. Amy held up her hands and turned to Jack. “Okay, okay, guests will be here any minute. Where’s your father?”

Where’s Mr. Lowry ?

Molly pointed out the side door. “He went to find out why the side lights weren’t on.”

“Excuse me, please.” Amy sidled to the side door, away from the clot of tension, opened the door and let the frigid air chill her.

Where’s Mr. Lowry ?

She took a deep breath just as she heard the doorbell ring. Let the fun begin.

The crowd filled the house in a swarming body of warmth and Christmas memories. Friends old and new, relatives separated by three or four aunts and uncles, relatives who weren’t really relatives at all, but had somehow become aunt and uncle to Jack and Molly, all filled the house. Amy returned to the stereo to turn up the music being drowned out by laughter and the clank of dishes.

Guests handed her bottles of wine in shimmering wine bags and Christmas ornaments wrapped in crinkled tissue, as offerings of gratitude. Friends arrived rubbing their hands up and down their arms and hugging, kissing. At an early hour, Amy had given out all the stockings she’d made; making them hadn’t just been an aimless adventure in busyness—everything would work out just fine.

This year Phil’s boss, Mr. Stevenson, and his wife actually showed up at the front door, bearing a magnum of champagne and overwrought smiles; his smile was large by sheer volume, hers by collagen. Phil escorted them in and showed them through the house and the Stevensons mingled, talked and laughed for more than the three minutes Amy had expected them to stay. Yes, things were going beautifully.

Fragile and puffy-faced, Lisbeth arrived before most of the guests and quickly disappeared upstairs on Jack’s arm. True to his word, Jack’s door stayed locked, but it was not the sounds his sister had predicted that emanated from his room. Amy only poked her head up once to hear sobs and muffled words coming from under the door.

She knocked. Jack called out that he would be down shortly. When Amy informed him that it was rude to hide in his room during a Christmas party, she heard fresh wails from Lisbeth. She left them alone, so she could return to the warm throb of people below.

Eliza appeared, misty and apparitional, throughout the evening. Whenever Amy found her at her elbow, she introduced Eliza to other guests, depositing Eliza with at least three separate groups, only to have her appear once again at Amy’s side.