Noelle took them into Advent to meet her own pack of little old ladies and eat at Ernie’s, where the non-alcoholic ones got quite drunk and a few ended up in each other’s beds. Miriam had been right about the sort of confirmed bachelors and spinsters who bought antique shops. Each one of them told her a story about Miriam, how Miriam had shown up for them, checked in on them, reconnected them with lost nephews or lost treasures.

She reminded Noelle so much of Cass.

Noelle had thought of Miriam as a lost soul, without purpose, trying to heal from the damage her dad had done, yet everywhere she’d touched down, she’d planted a seed of a relationship and tended to it. She had a forest of people who loved her, just like Cass. What they said, over and over, was that she never let them fall through the cracks. It was another piece in the puzzle of Miriam Blum, and it made Noelle’s heart ache.

If Miriam could show up for all these people, with only the sliver of herself she’d been living with, what would happen if she decided to show up for the two of them, with her whole self? Could Noelle trust her enough to let her try?

The day before the event, Noelle went looking for Ziva at breakfast, wanting to pick a fight. Ziva had been in her element all week, as orchestrating galas was one of her areas of expertise. She flitted around, attached to her phone, seemingly everywhere at once.

“You’re angry with me,” Ziva said when Noelle plunked down next to her.

“You’re perceptive for a woman who never listens to anyone.” Noelle shoved a bite of Danish in her mouth.

“We’ve known each other a long time, Noelle. I thought we could have a conversation about this without your acting like a child.”

“Hey, I had a mom,” Noelle said, swallowing hard. “I don’t need another, shittier mom telling me how to behave.”

She wasn’t just angry at Ziva, she was furious. Richard might have been the monster, but Ziva had been an accomplice.

“I never stopped speaking to my child,” Ziva said.

Noelle gritted her teeth. No fucking way was she going to let this woman judge her parents, after everything she’d failed to do. “Don’t even think about addressing things that aren’t your place. And you may not have stopped speaking to her, but because you refused to disrupt your precious life and leave the man who abused her, you cut her off from her whole family.”

“You’re right, that was a terrible thing to say,” Ziva admitted. She fiddled with her bracelet. “I made the wrong choice for Miri, over and over. I won’t pretend I didn’t.”