Morgan studied each of them in turn. They had the same stare. The way their eyes bored into the camera, it was almost as if they were challenging it. Daring it to call them out for something and yet not caring if it did.

“And who’s this?” She pointed to a wild-eyed boy leaning over Clive’s shoulder. He was wearing a striped T-shirt and a bulky Power Rangers wristwatch.

“The boy with the very unfortunate bowl cut, you mean?” He offered his hand for her to shake. “Bennett Reynolds.”

“Morgan Mori,” she said, though he already knew. He’d been the one to email her about the job.

“When do you get off the clock, Morgan Mori?”

She bit her lip. She could do this. “You tell me, boss. Though I believe the arrangement was for eight.”

A wicked glint flashed behind Bennett’s eyes. “Eight o’clock,” he repeated. “You’ll need a drink by then, trust me.”

“Is that a bet?”

“It’s a promise.”

It was through Morgan’s 50mm lens that she came face-to-face with each of the Reynolds clan. She led them out to the trellis, staging groups about four feet in front of it to capture the soft bokeh of the lights strung between the cedar boughs. She photographed Cora and her little family, adding in Eleanor and Don, Carlisle, David, and Bennett, who stood at the edge of the frame, still holding his drink.

Carlisle was gorgeous in jewel tones, wearing a teal sweater dress belted at the waist and black tights. She looked like a snow angel come to life, her long golden ringlets cascading down her back. Morgan couldn’t help but wonder if it was a wig. Everyone wore them these days, didn’t they? David, on the other hand, was her antithesis, and that made him her complement. They were yin and yang together, light and shadow, dove and raven. When everyone else had dispersed, they posed to re-create an old photo from their childhood: Carlisle crossed her eyes and pretended to pick her nose while David looked on in animated disgust. Afterward, they huddled around Morgan’s camera to see the photo appear on the LCD display.

“That’s it, that’s our Christmas card!” Carlisle laughed. They left Morgan to finish up before the sun went down, and later, when everyone was gathered inside by the fireplace, sleigh bells sounded.

Of course they got a freakin’ Santa Claus, Morgan thought, as the children’s eyes widened in excitement. They tumbled over one another as they ran down the hall, sliding in their socks when Santa Claus burst through the door with a festive “Ho, ho, ho!”

He was a convincing Santa—albeit nontraditional in a red patchwork robe trimmed with Celtic knots. A green beret with a shamrock perched atop his head. Toting a sack full of presents, he ambled in and plunked into the high-backed chair Cora had previously occupied. Then, he withdrew a pair of half-moon spectacles from an inside pocket and read the names off his list. Every single child received a present, which was damn impressive, considering how many kids there were.