It had snowed like this that first Christmas after her mother left. Blaire had still believed in Santa Claus and had written him a letter, asking him to bring her mother back to her. Her mother could be so much fun, but she could also be moody and angry. In her darker moods, she’d yell at Blaire to leave her alone, her face contorted in anger. Something as simple as a request for an after-school snack could elicit her rage. But then she’d be sorry, apologizing and trying to make up to Blaire. When Blaire would come home from school, she could sometimes tell how her mother was going to act. If she was playing fast music and dancing around, things would be good. She’d grab Blaire by the hand, and they’d laugh and dance, and she would tell Blaire how one day Blaire would go to the movies and see her mother on the big screen. Her eyes would be all bright and her smile big as she told Blaire about her plans. She was going to go to Hollywood and get discovered. Then, if Blaire was a very good girl, her mother would send for her and they’d live in a big mansion in Beverly Hills. Blaire didn’t want to think of her mother going away, but when she said so, her mother became cold and told Blaire she was being selfish, so she’d pretend to be excited for her.

If her mother was playing sad music when she came home, Blaire knew that she had to be quiet. Otherwise her mother would yell and tell her how Blaire’s father had ruined her life. That if she hadn’t married him, she’d already be a famous movie star. Blaire never pointed out that if her mother hadn’t married him, Blaire wouldn’t have been born—but she thought it.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five thirty. It was too early to call Daniel and wish him a merry Christmas. They still hadn’t connected, and she was getting frustrated. His flight from London had gotten in to Chicago the night before. She should be with him and his family today, not a guest in Kate’s home. She knew it was important for her to be here, with Kate, but it didn’t make it any less difficult to picture him with his parents and his sister, enjoying one another, laughing and exchanging gifts, while she was here. She poured herself a cup of coffee and rooted around in the cabinets until she found the sugar.

“Good morning.” Hilda’s voice startled Blaire, and she turned around.

“Good morning, Hilda. Merry Christmas.”

Blaire had been surprised that Hilda wasn’t spending Christmas with her own family, but Kate told her that Hilda had asked to spend Christmas here with Annabelle.

“Merry Christmas,” Hilda answered.

Annabelle came running into the kitchen, followed by Kate and Simon.