“Well, perfect, teens love that,” said Ramsay. “Anyway, we were wondering: Are you doing a Christmas party?”

There was a silence. Carmen looked at Mr. McCredie, who looked perturbed.

“Why not?” said Carmen. “Think how many . . .”

“People in the shop, yes, yes,” said Mr. McCredie. “She has changed me, Ramsay.”

“I think she has too,” said Ramsay, his eyes twinkling.

“Well . . . I suppose we could,” said Mr. McCredie. “Gosh. Well. Yes. We’d better. I have some Burgundy down in the cellar that we could probably crack, seeing as we’re on course to make a profit for the first time in . . . ahem . . . some years.”

Ramsay grinned.

“You have a cellar?” said Carmen in disbelief. “How? This building makes no sense.”

She glanced out the window and saw that Bronagh was passing, her bright red hair piled high on her head, wearing a cloak and carrying a large archway of hawthorn.

“Bronagh,” said Carmen, slipping outside. “If I said we’re having a party, like, tomorrow, would you be able to witch it round to everyone who needs inviting?”

“Of course,” said Bronagh. “Although sometimes what you need and what you want aren’t—”

“Great, thank you, that is so kind of you.”

CARMEN STILL FELT a little sad and foolish, imagining that Blair, a man she didn’t even like, would like her. And the man she did like liked somebody else. It was particularly hard as she couldn’t go somewhere quiet and just sulk about it. The shop was busy, Ramsay and Mr. McCredie had decided to just try a soupçon of the Burgundy to see how it went down, the streets were mobbed, and of course “home” was Sofia’s house, where Skylar was, uploading video to her boyfriend, Blair. Carmen’s phone hadn’t buzzed all afternoon. She was miserable. And stupid.

She marched home, where Sofia was chatting with Federico over the phone. Everything, as usual, was clean and tidy and warm and perfect, and it put Carmen in a worse mood than ever. The children had dispersed; it was a study night for Skylar, so thank God she was actually out.

“Hey,” said Sofia. “Don’t make me get up off the sofa. How was Blair’s book—?”

Carmen dissolved into tears.

“Oh God, that bad?” said Sofia, struggling to sit up.

Carmen explained everything.

“Oh God,” said Sofia. “So hang on—you don’t even like Blair and it sounds like he’s been a total a-hole, so why do you care if Skylar’s dating him?”

Carmen shrugged. “Because I . . .” She sniffed and looked around at the gorgeous kitchen. “I just wanted something cool. Something . . . impressive. I mean, you have everything and I just . . .”

“What, you would date an a-hole because I have a nice kitchen?”

Carmen shrugged again. “It’s everyone. Skylar’s getting some stupid degree in fricking water. You’re super-successful. Idra’s going skiing!”