“That question proves how little you know. My parents divorced wasn’t that much different to my parents married.” She felt sweat prickle at the back of her neck. She’d dreaded Holly waking up and yelling, but now she almost wanted it to happen. Anything to shatter the stifling intimacy of this car ride. “They’d always lived pretty separate lives. They both acknowledged that they never should have been together. The atmosphere at home was perfectly calm. They didn’t exchange a single angry word that I can remember.” In fact, she had no recollection of any interaction between them that wasn’t of a practical nature. Alix has a violin recital on Thursday. Can you attend? “They’re both academics, focused on their own field of study.”

“Which is?”

“My father is a physicist. He lives in California. My mother’s field of study is Russian literature, and I really don’t understand why you want to know this stuff, anyway.”

He ignored that. “Your Christmas stocking was filled with bound copies of Tolstoy?”

“No. I was allowed to choose my own presents. They gave me a catalog every year, and I was allowed to pick ten things. They were generous.”

“You didn’t write to Santa?”

She checked Holly was asleep before she answered. “My parents didn’t encourage that kind of thing. Don’t worry, I’m not going to blow it for Holly.”

“I’m not worried about that. I know you love Holly.”

“Oh.” Braced to defend herself, his comment threw her. “Yes, I do. And I have every intention of making her Christmas wishes come true if it’s within my capability.”

“So you do have a sentimental side.”

She frowned. “Practical. She asks for something, I make it happen. My entire job is about making people’s Christmas wishes come true.”

“But with Holly you’re doing it because you love her. That’s emotion, Alix.”

This conversation was starting to make her uncomfortable. “What’s your point?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe that you can’t get through life without feeling emotion even if you wanted to. And who would want to?”

She would want to. “We were talking about Holly.”

“We were talking about Christmas. So if your job is making other people’s Christmas wishes come true, who handles yours?”

“I make my own wishes come true. Always have. Next you’ll be telling me that you believe in Santa.”

“I do.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Then I hope he delivers everything you want.”

“I’m hopeful.” He slowed as the road narrowed. “How did you come to spend that first Christmas with Christy?”

Sheer luck.

“My parents both had research trips planned at the same time one year. My mother asked Elizabeth, Christy’s mother, if they’d have me to stay.” She watched the snow through the window. Endless snow, like something from a Christmas fairy tale, picked out by the car’s headlights. “It was like stepping into another world. Christy’s family did Christmas in a big way. Wreath on the door, lights on the house, huge fir tree, stockings hanging from the fireplace. A drink and a biscuit left out for Santa.” She could still remember the wonder of that first morning when she’d tiptoed downstairs with her friend and seen the lumpy stocking waiting for her. It even had her name on it. Alix. Despite what she knew to be true, in that moment she’d almost believed in Santa. “I spent every Christmas with them after that. My parents didn’t like the festive season, and Christy loved having me there. You’re probably thinking it was a big ask, an imposition—”