Christmas Eve morning dawned brilliant, with piles of snow glinting in the sun that had finally come out. Mr. Matthews had valiantly plowed the roads through to town, and the Carrigan’s shuttle was running nonstop.

The front lawn had been transformed into a bazaar, with booths packed in where decorated trees had once been. The humane society was selling roasted chestnuts and locally made wreaths. The music store had kazoos, penny whistles, harmonicas—all good things to put in stockings and then hide by the end of Christmas Day when the noise got overwhelming. There was a paperback book swap tent, where everyone dropped off the romances and mysteries and sci-fi they had accumulated over the year and took away new-to-them treasures.

Mr. Matthews was in his traditional Santa suit, taking last-minute gift requests (to the panic of parents) and photos. Cole, dressed as an elf, directed traffic. The costume had been around for decades, and the green velveteen was worn at the knees. One of the Velcro tabs had come off the back just as Cole was supposed to be out front, and the fabric was currently safety-pinned together. Since it had been designed for someone shorter than Cole’s six foot five inches, it stopped at his calves. He had added on knee-high red socks with a snowflake pattern (an early stocking stuffer from Hannah) and a pair of fur-lined boat shoes that he had ordered via overnight delivery.

He proclaimed it the happiest day of his life.

Mrs. Matthews ladled out her famous homemade eggnog from her booth. Hannah was by the carriage house, bundling couples into the sleigh for romantic rides through the pines. Joshua Matthews had taken the train up that morning with his family and was driving the sleigh while seven-year-old Grant “supervised.” Esther Matthews had brought a surprise boyfriend, improbably named Rocket, whom she hadn’t told her parents about.

Mrs. Matthews didn’t like him.

Miriam had deputized Esther to run the livestream on Blum Again’s Facebook page, and she was wandering around charmingly describing the festival for the Bloomers and the Rosensteins who were watching to judge the success of the event.

Ziva had arrived that morning (but not, Noelle had noticed, in time for Miriam’s birthday). She was holding court among the long-term returning families, telling fully orchestrated dramatic renditions of Carrigan’s Christmases of Old, with plenty of haggling over details from the people who had also been there. Fisticuffs nearly broke out over the origin of the reindeer races.

A bluegrass band played Christmas carols from the porch, where they had set themselves up. Ernie was at the upright bass and the librarian was burning up banjo solos. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” on bluegrass fiddle was a soul-altering experience. Everyone was moving, everything was glowing.

After lunch, Elijah and Jason were trying to corral the twins, who were flitting from booth to booth and begging for a second Christmas tree.