After a few minutes, though, the silence began to feel awkward. Even “Jingle Bells” couldn’t fill it. Jules had so many things she wanted to say, but none of them could be said…or asked. Why do you hate Christmas? Why did you come to London for it?

Why did you want me here too?

“You called your parents?”

Jules hunched her shoulders. She’d wanted to talk but not about this. “Er, yes. Just to say—”

“What do they do?” Vivian asked.

Really? Vivian caring about Jules’s family seemed as likely as her shopping in Old Navy. And yet here they were.

“My dad’s a lawyer. Property law. My mom works for an insurance agency.” She decided not to add, And they think you’re sexually harassing me.

“What do they think of your career ambitions?”

What do you think about my ambitions? Jules wanted to ask. Do you know anything about them?

“They’ve always been supportive,” she said instead. “Fashion journalism wasn’t their first choice for me, but they understand this is a great opportunity. And…they want me to be happy.”

Vivian smiled bitterly. “How nice.” She speared another piece of turkey with a little more force than strictly necessary.

With anyone else, this would have been the time to return like for like, to ask Vivian about her own family. Jules, however, was not suicidal, so she searched for a neutral response. She opened her mouth to say Did you see it’s snowing?

Instead she heard herself ask, “Why’d you come to London for Christmas?”

Vivian gave her a sharp look. “How is that any of your business?”

Jules couldn’t help the incredulous look she gave in return. How was it Jules’s business? Vivian had yanked her from her family’s lap to join her all the way out here, that was how.

Vivian seemed to come to the same revelation, judging by the way she pursed her lips. With no follow-up, she returned to her food with less enthusiasm than before.

Okay. Fine. Jules should have expected as much. Grouchily, she reached for the brown dome of the Christmas pudding and cut herself a nice big slice.

“Mark invited me to his house in the Hamptons for Christmas,” Vivian said.

The slice of pudding fell off Jules’s fork on the way back to her plate. She caught it in her palm just in time. Mark Tavio had wanted to spend the holidays with Vivian? That sounded strangely ominous. “He did?”

“Yes. To join his family. Since I’m now all alone, you see. He called it an ‘olive branch’ after some of our less-than-pleasant discussions over the last year.”

She and Jules looked silently at each other for a moment.

“What’s he up to?” Jules asked, dropping the pudding onto her plate.

Vivian’s mouth twitched. “Maybe it was just a nice gesture.”