Logan was probably the only one who noticed Charlie’s smile seemed forced as he inspected the shiny new snowboard. “It’s really cool,” he said.

“I bet you can’t wait to try it out,” said Al.

“That’s right.”

“Just what you wanted?” asked Fisher.

Charlie ducked his head and slid his snowboard along the rug under the tree. Logan could tell something was up. Charlie’s cheerfulness was an act, that was apparent.

Logan’s gut twisted unpleasantly as he went over to the fireplace mantel, where there was a small stack of Christmas cards. Among the cards were the notes they had written to themselves last summer at Camp Kioga. True to her word, Sonnet had mailed them to arrive the day before. Logan’s message to himself had been succinct: Make Christmas awesome for Charlie.

He sensed Darcy beside him, peering over his shoulder. “Remember this?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I filled one out, too. But I wasn’t home to get my mail.”

“What’d you write on it?”

She hesitated, but smiled up at him. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

He liked the sound of “someday” coming from her. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“What did you write?”

He showed her. “I’m not doing so hot.”

“Nonsense. Look at this, Logan.” She gestured around the room, at his parents and sisters, nieces and nephews, André and Angelica and Charlie. Everyone was laughing or relaxing or playing while outside the window, a soft snow began to fall. His parents were on the sofa, sipping coffee and watching the kids. “Joy to the World” was playing on the stereo. “Look at these happy faces. You did this, Logan. You.”

It was exactly what he needed to hear. How had she known? His heart skipped a beat. He was going to love this woman forever. He just knew it. Now he had to figure out if she knew it, too. “Hey—”

“The pickle prize,” she said suddenly, turning to Charlie. “Don’t forget the pickle prize.”

The kids perked up, and there was another mad dash for the tree. Darcy nudged Charlie and pointed at a spot in the tree.

“There it is,” Charlie yelled. “I saw it first!” Reaching through the branches, he unhooked the ornament from the tree. The motion sensor went off, and the pickle made a yodeling sound.

“You won the pickle prize,” Darcy declared.

“What’s the pickle prize?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I bet it’s on that little note,” Bernie said, indicating the tiny tag attached to the ornament.

“What’s it say?” asked Nan.

“Read it!” Fisher and Goose demanded.

Charlie unfolded the note. “It says pant...pantry. I got it, I’m supposed to look in the pantry.” He set down the ornament and made a beeline for the big storage room off the kitchen.