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mother, sitting in a nest of crumpled paper and shining bows and tangled ribbons. “Do you think Auntie Jeanie’s feeling lonely for us this morning?”
    She knew Roxy missed her aunt. This was her first Christmas without Jeanie. “I’m sure she is, honey. But we’ll all be together again next Christmas.” Behind her, Sharon heard a chuckle and looked at Rolph, whose green eyes danced with merriment as they shared a smile. He had a bright red scarf wrapped around his neck, even though he was wearing a pair of pajamas covered by a bathrobe. Freda had given it to him, and he wanted to wear it right away.
    “I doubt Jeanie’s even aware it’s Christmas,” he murmured.
    Beside him, Harry laughed softly and said, “Max, on the other hand, probably thinks it’s Christmas and Easter and every birthday he’s ever had, all rolled into one. Your turn next, number two son.”
    “Amen to that,” said Freda, stroking the soft plush of a new bathrobe one of the boys had given her.
    Rolph shrugged. “So find me someone who’s interested for more than fifteen minutes, and I might just take your suggestion seriously. After all, even though I caught the garter you didn’t see any eligible females flinging themselves at my feet, did you?”
    Sharon remembered how Marian Crane, the sharp-tongued, witty redhead who’d ducked the bouquet, had looked at Rolph when he caught that shocking-pink garter. She wondered if Rolph even knew that she was interested in him and probably had been for a long time. She also wondered if it was Rolph’s habit of treating her like a sister that had made Marian deliberately duck the flowers. Apparently they’d known each other since early childhood.
    Zinnie shook her head at him in disgust. “Right. You caught the garter, for all the good it’ll do you. You’ve always given up too easily, my son. The day you try longer than fifteen minutes, I’ll begin to take you seriously. No, Sharon’s the next one. She caught the bouquet. By the way, did anybody else hear that nice Mr. Duval playing carols on his harmonica last night? It was a lovely sound to fall asleep to.”
    Sharon jumped up from the floor and began collecting her gifts and moving the piles back under the tree. “Breakfast time,” she said. “If we don’t get that out of the way so I can get the turkey stuffed and into the oven, well be eating Christmas dinner sometime tomorrow morning.”
    Jason grinned. “Mom, you say that every year.”
    “That’s because every year we linger under the tree far too long.” Then, robe flying out around her, she spun from the group in the living room and went swiftly into the kitchen. She’d get dressed after breakfast.
    Looking out the window, she saw a silver world with the dazzle of frost on grass and shrubs, the sun peeking over the treetops to add a hint of sparkle. It was a beautiful Christmas morning, the closest thing to a white Christmas she’d ever seen there on the coast. Snow, if it came down to sea level, usually did so in January. Leaning forward just a bit, she could see the camper with its windows steamed up, and stood clutching the edge of the sink, thinking about Marc Duval again.
    It was his breath that had caused that steam. What would the windows look like if there had been two of them in there last night as there so nearly had been, if he hadn’t been the one to call a halt? She shivered and rubbed her arms under the wide sleeves of her robe, encountering her half dozen of Grandma Margaret’s gold bangles she still wore. She’d forgotten to take them off the previous night. Now, slipping them down over her hand, she reached to set them on the windowsill just as the door of Marc’s camper opened. He stepped out, looked right at her, and smiled. At that moment, one of the bangles fell into the sink with a musical tinkle, and inside Sharon something turned over and came to life again. She spun away from the window, forcing the feeling down with all her might.
    “No