A subway ride and two-block walk later, Grant was back at his now-regular table at the Astro Diner with the ever-present Phyllis there to serve him. He ordered one of the shakes Frankel loved so much. Phyllis tried to tell him that was no dinner for a grown man and she was right. The shake was rich and tasty but, coupled with the bunny cookies, it was too much; he left half the glass. He thanked Phyllis, left her a tip twice the amount of the bill, and then ventured back into the cold December night still in search of some semblance of holiday cheer.

Manhattan was in full Christmas spirit. It was nine-thirty and the streets were packed with people teetering with shopping bags. Others toted Christmas trees and the corner bars had patrons spilling outside singing raucous carols.

All Grant heard in his head were two words—Bah and Humbug.

Right around ten o’clock, he found himself outside Radio City Music Hall. A man in town from Dubuque, Iowa, was trying to get rid of a spare ticket for the late Christmas Spectacular as his teenage daughter had refused to go. Grant bought it, figuring seeing what was so spectacular might put him in the holiday mood, or at least take his mind off Rachel and Allison.

There was something impressive about the Rockettes with their precise choreography in a chorus line that stretched the length of the largest stage Grant had ever seen. The crowd was in a jolly mood and sang along with every number.

But a full-frontal assault of that much yuletide joy only made Grant recall Christmases past with his wife and their little girl.

He remembered bringing home a lifelike electronic Saint Nicholas and how when he plugged it in to the wall, the figure had immediately started to whirr and bow—letting out a huge “Ho-ho-ho—Happy Christmas!” with a hearty guffaw. He thought it the most joyous thing he’d ever seen, until a four-year-old Rachel walked in on Boxing Day, took one look at the bearded robot twice her size, and ran upstairs to hide under the bed. Grant spent the rest of the morning coaxing Rachel out from under the mattress with numerous presents. The rest of the holiday found Rachel walking cautiously around the house afraid that “Saint Electronick” (as Grant had dubbed him) was going to pop out of a closet and “Ho-ho-ho” her to death.

The following year Rachel kept asking if Saint Electronick had returned to the North Pole and she giggled when it reappeared by the tree on Christmas Day. By the time she was six, Rachel was bringing friends over to see the bowing Father Christmas and Allison had to sit their daughter down and tell her she couldn’t charge admission.