That word triggered something. She suddenly felt an appreciation for him that she hadn’t felt since … possibly ever. He could have said “Gorgeous” or “Beautiful” or “Fantastic” or any other word. Instead, he chose the one that she needed to hear. She was ready. In that moment she was struck by how well he knew her. And by how much she needed him. She had always known how much she needed him as an artist—his talent. She had known that from the very beginning. It was the reason she had been so drawn to him, and the reason they had done what they had. But she never knew until that moment how much she needed him as a person—his love. She had been too hard on him lately. It was the stress of the business. Once tonight was over and they had sold the house to Zara, she would focus more on their relationship. Things would be better between them. They could start fresh. Not leave Aspen for good like he suggested, but maybe go on a vacation. Some time for just the two of them to get reacquainted with each other and work things out.

She put a hand to Henry’s cheek and smiled. Then took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Happy holidays,” said Steve.

Henry

Of course, Henry thought. That’s what this house did. It tainted and destroyed everything it came in contact with. It was worse than a haunted house. A haunted house conjured ghosts and apparitions and specters. This house did one better: it summoned the living. Put you face-to-face with your greatest fear. When the door opened, he saw Claudine’s face collapse. Then she quickly recovered.

“Steve,” she said. “Out caroling this evening? Where are the rest of the singers?”

“Claude, looking beautiful as ever,” he said. Claude. “And, Henry—I heard you were in the hospital, but you look terrific. What a relief. I was thinking on the way over here—what would happen to Calhoun + Calhoun without you? Who would build her houses?”

Henry saw him around town now and then. Aspen was too small to completely avoid someone. But they never spoke to each other. Henry made sure of it. A few times he saw Steve walking down the street and crossed to the other side. It wasn’t timidity that caused him to do this. It was fear. He was afraid of what he would do to Steve if he got too close to him. He had discovered the rage within himself and the barbarity he was capable of, and he could never allow that to happen again.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” Claudine asked. “You’re letting in a draft.”

“I came for the party, of course,” Steve said. “I even brought my Secret Santa gift.”

He held up a large shopping bag with a wrapped box inside. By the way he strained to keep it raised, it was heavy.