I took a sip of tea.

“My maternal grandparents—also Auntie Esha’s parents—were among the few Christians in Kolkata, in West Bengal. Well, ‘few’ by Indian terms. For them, the right to celebrate the holidays was not taken lightly.”

“Christianity isn’t illegal in India . . .”

“No, of course not. But it is definitely the minority, which was one of the reasons my grandparents immigrated to the UK when Mummy was a little girl. She has no memory of her time there, only growing up in England. And my auntie was born in London. Dadu was the one who loved Christmas the most but he passed when my auntie was ten years old. She said that her love for Christmas came from him, and to this day celebrating it makes her think of her father.”

A pang of guilt hit me at the waves of negativity I’d been riding about his aunt all night long. I nudged the discussion elsewhere.

“What about your mom? Your parents? Do they like Christmas?”

He hesitated and I felt him struggling with what to say.

“They do . . .” He tapped his right index finger against the back of the book. “But mostly as a time in which they can go on holiday. The remainder of the year keeps them . . . quite busy. Mummy is a professor of astrophysics at Oxford while my father runs the family business.” He glanced at me now out of the corner of his eye. “I suspect you have no idea what that might be.”

“Something with trucks?” I made a face that showed he was right about my ignorance even though I recalled him mentioning it approximately a thousand times back at Barrington.

But I hadn’t been interested then.

I was now.

“Moderately close,” he said. “But also wildly incomplete. Watercress Industrial is one of the world’s top four manufacturers of construction equipment. It was started by my grandpapa and his brother after the Second World War and took off about a decade later. Now there are plants on five continents.”

He puffed up a bit with pride at the telling, and who could blame him?

When the Hoyden had won “Best Boutique Inn in Oklahoma—2016” from OK Visitor Magazine, I’d worn out my welcome in a few places telling everyone about it and making sure they saw the photo of Grandma Jo looking gorgeous that accompanied the article. Later I put the whole thing on the inn’s official website’s “about us” section.

It was a big deal.

Arthur’s familial accomplishments were a much bigger deal.

“So basically what your family does is one of those things no one ever thinks about but everyone needs and uses and makes the person who makes it rich.”

Arthur regarded me for a long moment, unable to contain his surprise. “Correct. In a vague, all-encompassing fashion.”

“I get that a lot.”