I glanced in the rearview mirror and caught Esha’s nod before her attention drifted back to the window. She bit her lip as a cloud of uncertainty drifted over her expression and I thought about how she was taking a risk, too. With her heart. For my grandmother. She was private about it, but still brave.

“What made you want to return to Christmas?” I asked Arthur.

He chuckled. “That sounds like a holiday tune.”

Which Steve heard. He quickly leaned forward in the space between the front seats.

“Tunes! Can we listen to Christmas music, huh? It’ll make everything sooooo much cooler.”

Boy, is he high.

Arthur said, “Only if it’s not a distraction for Finley.”

I shook my head, already feeling considerably more comfortable. “Go for it.”

Steve cheered.

Arthur turned on the radio, and while the sound system couldn’t hold a candle to the customized El Camino, it got the job done. It was Christmas Eve and that meant whichever station you tuned into was playing Christmas songs. We wound up listening to one of the countless versions of “Carol of the Bells,” which was enough to satisfy Steve, who sat back again and closed his eyes.

With a glance toward his aunt, Arthur leaned closer to me. “To answer your question, after everything had calmed down, we both realized we’d acted rather hastily.”

I chuckled. “Was it the daal?” I asked.

“Yes,” Esha said from the back.

I looked in the rearview mirror again. “Seriously?”

“Bengali chana daal is my favorite,” she said, still nervous, but now with the barest hint of a smile. “I told Jo that in passing. I wouldn’t have thought she would remember.”

Arthur nodded, adding, “She loves chana daal.” And murmured, “Which is not a euphemism.” I bit my lip to not laugh and he grinned. “Possibly a euphemism.”

“I cannot hear what you are saying,” Esha called out. “But I think by your expression it must be naughty.”

“I love you, Mashi,” he told her with a big smile.

“Very naughty, then,” she said dryly.

We all laughed.

When Arthur turned back, I asked him, “Does this mean you’re only returning for your aunt?” and held my breath.

His smile faded as he stared at me intently. “No,” he said, with a slight shake of his head. “I have my own reasons.”

Goose bumps danced along my skin and it took all of my concentration to make the turn onto Merry Street without plowing into a lamppost.

But then we saw the sight before us and I felt a breath catch.

There was snow everywhere! Covering all the imperfections, hiding all signs of aging, and bringing a hush that was felt as much as heard.