Allie continues to pass out the red stockings. “In this year of unity and the hope of peace, I made both kinds. The Jewish ones have sugar on the outside. The Arab ones have flour. But they are made with almost the same ingredients. The Saudi ones required a new ingredient, ghee, which is clarified butter, and you cook the dough on top of the stove. But the cookies are about dried fruit. That’s the main ingredient and flavoring. So similar. And the stockings? Well, I figured if I was doing Muslim and Jewish cookies, I’d wrap them in a Christmas theme. Three of the world’s great religions. Goes along with hopes for peaceful change here and across the world.”

After depositing one in the hospice bag, I open my stocking and taste one of the Hanukkah ones. “I bet these are healthy, too.” A sweet confection with the hint of spice and ginger.

“They’re made of dried fruit and nuts. But they’re high calorie.”

“You outdid yourself this year,” Vera says. “Cookies with a peace theme.”

Allie laughs. “I know this is schmaltzy, but in spite of the economy and the dark cold, I’m thinking about all our steps toward equality and world peace. And isn’t this commemoration—whether it’s Christmas or Hanukkah—the celebration of light’s return in the midst of darkness? Just after the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, we get increasing daylight and anticipate once again spring and renewal. Just like the cookies, so much more alike than different.”

We’re all quiet for a few seconds as we each pull out a cookie. “I have a Saudi one,” Jeannie says.

“I have a Jewish one,” Rosie says, and she stares at Jeannie, toasting the difference as though to say if we can hope these two countries can make peace, maybe we can. We all have our sins.

Jeannie nods to her as they eat their cookies, watching each other.

Wow, I think. Wow. Could I be seeing this? Could this be happening? I watch them from across the room, Rosie with the glints in her short hair and Jeannie with that look of a startled fawn still in her eyes.

We all hold up a cookie. “To peace,” Charlene says as she pops hers in her mouth.

“And the return to prosperity,” says Laurie.

“Hey. Let’s keep going. How ’bout meaningful jobs for all.”

“And health care.”

“Taking care of mother earth.”

“Accepting love,” Allie says, and her arm sweeps the party of girlfriends.

“Small carbon footprints.”

“Nonfossil fuels.”

We all laugh.

THE PHONE VIBRATES and I clutch it to my side and dash for the bedroom. It’s Jim.

“Hi.”

“Hey, you. Have you heard from Sky?”

“I thought you were her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m always happy to talk with you.”

“How’s the party?”

“Good. Fun.”