All the way up Victoria Street, the children oohed and aahed, and Carmen realized that now that the Christmas decorations were up—great shining silver stars making the pretty street even lovelier—the shops had really come into their own, each lovelier than the last (everyone except for them was open on a Sunday, she also noticed): dark-green-and-red Christmas trees inside and outside of the expensive tweed shop; beautiful paper mobiles and lights in the lovelier bookshop; golden lampposts and fairy lights twirling around the magic shop; great thick swathes of holly and ivy in the coffee shop, where Carmen promised them milkshakes later. Even the hardware store had little trees lined up in a tidy row with little soldiers posted between them, she noticed as they went in to purchase a large broom, which Mr. McCredie didn’t seem to own but desperately needed.

“You’re Mr. McCredie’s girl,” said the man in the store, his burgundy apron decorated with holly.

“Word gets around,” said Carmen.

“Oh yes, we’re a family here,” he said. “Well, we try to be. Mr. McCredie, he’s never been one for wanting to join in. We wish he would. You can’t do this alone.” Then he lowered his voice. “Do you think he’ll be able to hold on?”

“I don’t know,” said Carmen, and suddenly didn’t want to disappoint anyone. “I hope so.”

“Do your best, love.”

And he threw in a dustpan for free.

THEY WERE NO good, that was true. They moaned and complained and said they were tired and their hands hurt and she, Carmen, was mean for making them work.

But somehow, gradually, the dust lifted, and the windows got polished—not terribly well—and they tuned the radio to a station that played only Christmas songs, and Carmen vanished at one point and did indeed bring back three of the largest milkshakes anyone had ever seen, which Carmen considered something of a triumph, as Sofia and Skylar had passed her a forbidden-food list that included McDonald’s, all fizzy drinks, sweets, and sparkling water fruit juice (bad for teeth apparently)—at least till Phoebe jolted Pippa and spilled hers, and there was a huge fight between the girls and a big mess on the floor.

But it was undeniable that as they piled the books to the side, things were starting to look better. With everything stacked neatly and a path cleared, for starters, it at least looked like a shop, without maps piled willy-nilly to the sky, and the whining and complaining calmed down as they found more interesting books. Phoebe came up to Carmen.

“There’s no Christmas books!” she said. “It’s meant to be Christmastime and there’s no Christmas books. This is a stupid shop.”

Carmen was inclined to agree with her. “Do you think we should have more Christmas things?”