“No. Just the phrases. Like ‘breathe through this.’ And so I decided to make fortune cookies. And I wrote my fortunes.”

“Now that’s what I like. Let’s write our own futures and make sure they come true,” Vera says. “Money.”

“I’ll second that. And a meaningful job with benefits,” shouts Taylor.

“No more war,” Allie says.

“Now, I experimented with several recipes and decided upon the best one. The tricky thing is taking them out of the oven, flipping them over, and putting the fortune inside, curling it, and then letting it cool in a muffin tin. You have to do it while they’re still warm, so you can only do a few at a time.” Jeannie hands a box to Allie and Allie passes it to her left as it goes around the circle.

“I like how you stenciled the hearts and trees,” Vera says.

“Trying to make fortune cookies kinda Christmasy.” Jeannie turns her head back and forth as she hands off each box to Allie.

Rosie gingerly sets hers on her leg as though it might still be hot. The box teeters on her knee and then she draws it into her lap.

Charlene opens her box and pulls the crispy crescent out. “It’s green.”

“I dyed them red and green.” Jeannie turns to me. “I wanted them to look seasonal.”

“There’re fortunes in here?” Vera asks.

“Yeah. What’s a fortune cookie without a fortune?”

I wonder if she has managed to smuggle nasty fates and curses into Rosie’s box. Fortunes like “May evil visit your door.” “May your bed be like burning straw.” “May all your children be born dead.” I think of Rosie getting that one and am washed with sorrow. She looks into space, hugging the box into her. Perhaps it would be a curse that’s subtle like “That which you send out will come back to you.” Or “May all your wishes come true.”

Would Jeannie plot such a nasty revenge?

No. Rosie could have received any box.

“‘The wheel is turning. This is the dark time. What must you gain from the night?’” Charlene reads. “Oh. What a perfect fortune for me.” Her eyes fill. “I’m getting goose bumps. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about these days. How amazing.”

Rosie rips open her box, looking for salvation and forgiveness. “‘I cast this from me like an empty shell.’” She blinks. “So.” She tilts her head, wondering at the meaning, and then she smiles as though it is Jeannie’s wish, not her fortune.

Maybe it is.

“They’re delicious, too!” Charlene exclaims. “Almond.”

“You must have eaten a red one. The green are vanilla. And then some have both flavors.” Jeannie reaches in her bag, but there are no boxes left. “Everyone got one, right? And the hospice?”

“Yep.” Charlene pats the hospice bag. “And Tracy and Alice. You’re all set.”