Sitting in this living room where I’d had some of the best and worst moments of my entire life, I felt at peace, and I knew for certain that everything had worked out for the best. When Nita went to the kitchen to get a snack, I said, “Thad, I’m pregnant. The second pair of embryos took.”

He smiled. “That’s such a nice thing for you to do for Parker. You have always been so selfless.”

I shook my head. “We’re having them together.”

It took a moment for the news to register, but when tears gathered in his eyes, I knew he understood. He took my hand. Neither of us said a word, and that made the moment so perfect. We had already said everything there was to say. We had moved on. We had healed.

As we said goodbye, I was struck by the most overwhelming need to know that I would see Thad again. “When we get settled in Dogwood, when the babies come, will you, Chase, and Nita please come visit us? Maybe spend Thanksgiving or Christmas?”

Thad wiped his eyes and nodded. “I’ll be counting down the days.”

Parker and I had flown home that night to tell our parents the news about the babies. We had originally thought we were flying home for our last family Thanksgiving at Dogwood. I had been devastated, of course, but my joy at this pregnancy had blocked my sadness. I had Parker. I had the babies. I had a new life and a new lease on it, too. After our conversation with George, I realized I didn’t have to be sad anymore. Dogwood was going to be a part of our family for another generation.

I’ll never forget walking into Dogwood last November, the smell of pine absolutely everywhere, giant Frasier firs flanking the staircase in the entrance hall. Mom always decorated for Christmas the day before Thanksgiving, to make the season last. I could imagine that she wanted this one to last even longer. Christmas Songs by Sinatra was playing soft and low, and this old house shone. Its presumed last Thanksgiving in our family might very well have been its most glorious. I paused for a moment to try to picture being the one in charge, the one who had the final say on the Christmas decorations.

I had snuck up on Aunt Tilley in the kitchen, kissing her cheek from behind. She turned and laughed and hugged me full-on. “My girl is home,” she said, wiping her hands on her black slacks. I wondered how it felt on days like today, when she was okay, to sit across the table and know that Robby was hers, that she had spent a lifetime playing his aunt when really she was his mother. In my current twins-induced hormonal firestorm, I couldn’t control my sobs. Aunt Tilley smiled at me knowingly and squeezed my hand. Mom and Olivia’s voices drifted toward us as Olivia said, “I just think the Lismore crystal is more classic for the last Christmas.”