She took her time folding the towel and placing it in the laundry hamper off to the side. “And she thought you made a good point about Billie and Linda. Also, turns out, our moms have been talking for a while, not just tonight. They’ve been conspiring to get the Wonder Twins into the arts school.”

“So you can be free for Barrington!” I was both thrilled and impressed with our mothers. Sneaky! But also perfect.

“That’s the hope,” she said, playing it cool.

My energy surged and I started bouncing on the tips of my toes like Dr. Raymond. “You’re going, aren’t you?” It was more a statement than a question.

“We’ll see,” she hedged, but I knew that was more about self-protection.

I grinned. “I feel like it’s going to happen.”

She grinned despite herself. “We’ll see,” she repeated. “But Mamma supports the idea now.”

Which was huge! Something I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate before. Unable to contain my excitement, I hugged her, which she was not expecting.

“Okay, whoa, slow down,” she said, even as she was laughing. “You’re like a Labrador puppy.”

“You’ll be my roommate,” I proclaimed when I stepped back, almost giddy. The look of mild horror only made my smile grow. “You will.”

“We’ll see.” She pointed at me. “But if I do, you’d better watch out. Muffy and Buffy aren’t the only ones who are gonna have to step it up if I get there.”

I laughed. “I’ll be prepared.”

Then she smiled at me, and headed out to the front of the inn where her mother and sleepy sisters were waiting to drive her home.

By eleven thirty, I was done.

There would be plenty of work left for the morning, like moving the furniture back (Dad wasn’t getting out of it this time), but the guests were gone and most of the lights shut off, except for the ones on the tree by the window. Those stayed on, like a beacon.

The rest of the inn was quiet, and my loved ones were on to their happily-ever-afters, in whichever form they would ultimately take.

And I wanted my turn.

But after searching for Arthur for fifteen minutes, I was starting to think maybe he’d gone upstairs to his room. Which was disappointing. I knew we could talk tomorrow, on Christmas Day. Yet . . .

I decided to try outside, in the back courtyard, and wouldn’t you know it? That’s where he was, the lunatic. By the firepit. Bundled up in his green jacket and knit hat and gloves and scarf. A heavy woolen blanket was wrapped around his legs and he had appropriated one of the inn’s wrought iron fireplace shovels, which he was holding over the flames for some reason.