“They’re free. I’m just glad to get rid of them. Pet food’s expensive and you can’t use food stamps for it.”

“Well, I won’t take them unless you let me pay,” said Lucy, holding out three ten-dollar bills.

“Okay. I won’t say I can’t use the money. Thanks.”

As Lucy carried the kittens out to the car, she was overwhelmed with guilt. She’d never thought of herself and Bill as wealthy; every month they had to juggle the bills, and the Visa balance stubbornly refused to shrink. But today the sum of their material possessions embarrassed her.

As she put the kittens on the backseat she noticed a box of candy canes poking out from one of the grocery bags. Remembering the very tiny Christmas tree on the table, she dug a little deeper and pulled out a roasting chicken, aware that she had a freezer full of food at home as well as money in the bank. She rummaged through the other bags and added cranberry sauce, stuffing, potatoes, a few cans of vegetables, and a bottle of apple juice. Looking for something sweet, she shrugged and tossed in a bucket of dastardly mash ice cream. Give till it hurts, she thought.

She was tempted just to leave the bag on the porch, but instead she made herself knock. When the door opened she said, “I’m really so grateful for the kittens, won’t you please take these groceries?”

Lisa pulled herself up to her full height and said unsmilingly, “Thank you, but I already have Christmas dinner planned. We’re having macaroni.”

Lucy smiled encouragingly. “My husband and I had tofu and brown rice for Christmas once. We decided never again. Please take it.”

Lisa shrugged and then smiled, accepting the bag of groceries. “Merry Christmas!” she said, and shut the door.

“Now, little kittens, how am I going to keep you a secret until tomorrow?” Pulling the car off the road a few feet before her driveway, Lucy put the carrier on the floor behind the driver’s seat and tossed a blanket over it. Then she pulled in the driveway and started unloading the groceries. She carried one bag and a gallon jug of milk into the kitchen, pausing at the door to see if any of the kids were around. She heard a low murmur from the front of the house, so she put the groceries on the table and dashed back to the car. Covering the kittens with the blanket, she ran as quickly as she could back to the kitchen and scooted down the cellar stairs. She put the carrier next to the furnace and, apologizing to the kittens for confining them, was back in the kitchen before the kids realized she was home.

“Help me with the groceries, Toby. Grandma and Grandpa Stone will be here any minute.

“How’d everything go?” she asked her mother.