Chapter 1
My husband took down my Christmas stocking to make room for his sister's new boyfriend.
I was kneeling beside my suitcase, tucking Dad's coffee between two sweaters.
"Megan's bringing Adam," Daniel said.
"We need another hook."
He draped my red stocking over the couch and hung a green one in its place.
The cuff folded inward, hiding the name Mom had stitched in gold.
"Where are you putting mine?"
"I'll find somewhere."
He stepped back to inspect the mantel.
I waited for him to pick my stocking up again, but he reached for the garland instead.
"We're leaving tomorrow," I said.
"Why is Megan bringing anyone here?"
Daniel kept working a strand of lights through the greenery.
"I was going to talk to you. Mom wants Christmas here this year. It's easier with the kids."
I let go of the sweater I was folding.
Our flights were booked.
Dad knew when to collect us.
I had finished my last client revisions early so I could spend the whole week with him.
"We're going to Dad's."
"I spoke to him last week. He has other plans."
I looked at the coffee in my suitcase.
Yesterday, Daniel had helped me choose it.
He'd stood beside me while I wondered whether Dad still used the machine Mom had bought him.
"What other plans?"
"He's taken care of it, Claire."
His voice was patient.
He used the patient tone he reserved for decisions I was expected to accept.
I stood, my knees stiff against the rug.
"This is his first Christmas without Mom."
"I know. Can we talk about it after I finish?"
The doorbell rang before I answered.
Daniel went to get it.
I picked up my stocking from the couch.
A gold thread had come loose beside the C.
Mom had noticed it during our video call last Christmas.
Bring it next time, she'd said.
I'll fix it.
"Through the side door," Daniel called.
Two delivery workers waited on the porch, one holding a clipboard.
Behind them, folding chairs were strapped to a cart.
"Extension table, sixteen chairs, sixteen place settings?"
"That's us," Daniel said.
Sixteen.
I'd spent yesterday worrying that Dad might buy too much food for three.
The worker offered me the clipboard because I was closest.
I took it automatically, then stopped at the date beneath our address.
December seventeenth.
A week ago.
"You confirmed this last week?"
"Mom worked out the numbers. I just booked it."
He reached for the clipboard, but I held it a moment longer.
There was our address, his phone number, the collection time.
The only missing detail was when he planned to tell me.
"Can we discuss this inside?" he asked.
I released the clipboard.
He signed while I moved aside for the chairs.
My phone vibrated.
Megan: Adam doesn't eat pork. And no nuts in the kids' stockings. Thanks!
Above it was an unopened message from his mother.
I told everyone dinner at six. Your usual potatoes, please.
I read both messages twice.
Neither asked whether I would be there.
"Leave room at that end," Daniel told the workers.
"Claire needs space to get around."
I put my stocking in the suitcase and carried my phone into the kitchen.
Dad answered on the third ring.
"Hi, sweetheart."
"Dad, what are your plans for Christmas?"
"Just staying home."
A chair scraped across the dining room floor.
I gripped the counter and waited for him to mention a neighbor, an invitation, anything.
"Daniel said you had other plans."
Dad went quiet.
When he spoke again, his voice was careful.
"He told me you were the one who didn't want to come home."