Bart is the tallest of the three, thanks to the genes from Mitzi’s father, Joe, who was six foot five. Seeing the three of them standing together registers as completely natural, but it’s also surreal. Bart is here. He’s right here.

Sitting three rows from the front are Potter and Gibby. Ava saves her best smile for them.

When the ceremony is over and all of the pictures have been taken, Kevin and Isabelle climb into the fire truck with George—who has done a quick change from his coat and tie into his Santa suit—and all the guests cheer and wave. George honks the horn and off they go, husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Quinn.

Meanwhile, the inn has been transformed. All of the furniture was moved from the living room to create an open space for mingling that will later serve as a dance floor. Mitzi hired the Four Easy Payments to play, but right now, there is Christmas music piped in. The playlist is a variety of carols rather than just “Joy to the World.”

The caterers have laid out a serious spread of cheese and crackers, crudités and dip, sausages and pâtés. Mitzi asked them to make her infamous sugared dates stuffed with peanut butter and, yes, the salted almond pinecone.

Ava and Bart meet in front of the pinecone. Bart scoops up an obscene amount of soft cheese and nuts on a cracker. It’s fine, Ava thinks. He needs to fatten up.

She wants to have a real conversation with him. She wants to ask him what happened, what it was like, how he felt, how he survived. But this isn’t the time or the place. This is the time to take a flute of champagne from the server’s tray and sing along to “Mistletoe and Holly” with Frank Sinatra.

And apparently, it’s also the time to set the record straight once and for all. Because when Ava turns around looking for where Potter has gotten to, she sees Nathaniel headed toward her with some kind of cranberry martini in his hand. He has someone trailing him. It’s Scott, who is wearing red corduroy pants embroidered with Santa faces, a white shirt, a black wool blazer, and a red-and-green-tartan bow tie.

“I’ve brought reinforcements,” Nathaniel says. He kisses Ava on the cheek. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Stunning,” Scott says.

Ava glares at Scott. “Where’s Mz. Ohhhhhh?”

“She’s moving to Newport Beach,” he says. “California.”

“We came to tell you we don’t want you to move to New York,” Nathaniel says. “Stay here on Nantucket or come to Block Island. Choose one of us.”

Ava feels a hand slip around her waist and she knows it’s Potter. She has called in her own reinforcements.

“It’s probably good the three of you are here,” Ava says. “So all three of you can hear me say this. I am moving to New York to run the music department at the Copper Hill School. That is my reason for moving. But as far as my love life is concerned…” Here, she pauses. Nathaniel and Scott have been so dear to her. She has loved them both for different reasons: Nathaniel is fun-loving and laid-back; Scott is solid and kind with a streak of mischief that appears every once in a while. But neither of them was able to capture Ava’s entire heart as Potter has managed to do.

“As far as my love life is concerned, there is only one man I want and that is this man right here, Potter Lyons. So I hope I can keep the two of you as friends and see you when I come home for the summer, but I will never date either of you again and I’m asking you both to respect that.”

Nathaniel looks angry; Scott looks morose. Potter lifts Ava’s face and—adding insult to injury for the two men—gives Ava the loveliest kiss, possibly of her life. She feels clean and free and honest and empowered. She has come to a decision that makes her feel, well—Ava’s eyes linger on the word hanging over the mantel—joy.

The Four Easy Payments have set up over by the Christmas tree and now they launch into “Little Saint Nick,” by the Beach Boys. Nathaniel is the first to reach over and shake Potter’s hand. Scott follows suit and says, “Take good care of her, man.”

“She can take care of herself,” Potter says. “I’m just going to love her.”

Nathaniel looks at Scott. “Drink?” he says.

“Heck, yeah,” Scott says, and the two head to the bar.

Potter turns to Ava. “Dance?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she says.

KELLEY

He should have been the happiest man alive, but he simply doesn’t feel well. His head aches, there’s a loud buzzing in his left ear, and splotches are appearing in front of him—there are amorphous blue blobs in the upper right corner of his vision. He can see the party is a raging success. Ava and Potter are dancing; so is Isabelle and her father, Kevin and Margaret, Patrick and Madame Beaulieu, Jennifer and Drake, and George and Mary Rose—who, Kelley has just found out, have gotten engaged. Bart is busy charming Mrs. Gabler, his old kindergarten teacher, who must think better of him now that he is a war hero. Kelley watches as Mitzi saves him, pulling Bart onto the dance floor. Kelley has always been mesmerized by Mitzi’s beauty—quirky though it is—but he can honestly say that he has never seen Mitzi look as luminous as she does tonight. She has her son back. Kelley is sure nothing else will ever matter as much.

They aren’t following any kind of usual wedding protocol, although when this song ends, Kelley will saber the champagne as he does every year on Christmas Eve, and then Kevin and Isabelle will dance to “The Christmas Song.”

Kelley gets ready. He pulls the magnum of Taittinger out of the ice and finds his saber. Then he signals the bandleader, who ends the song and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, our gracious host, Kelley Quinn, will now saber the champagne.”

The crowd cheers, Monsieur Beaulieu is especially enthusiastic—probably because he’s French. Kelley worries he’ll fumble the ball somehow; there are a million ways to screw up a sabering even under the best of circumstances, never mind when one is afflicted with brain cancer.

Kelley opens the front door of the inn. Out on Winter Street, the scene is tranquil: snow, streetlights, the neighbors’ antique homes buttoned up and quiet. Kelley finds the spot on the neck of the bottle that he must hit just so, and he drags the back of the saber against it.

Kelley turns to the crowd. He focuses on Mitzi’s face, a beacon. She winks at him. The wink is like magic; immediately, Kelley feels thirty-nine again. He is dating the roller-disco queen of King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. He is virile, strong, confident. He can do this.

In one fluid motion, Kelley slices off the top of the bottle. The crowd cheers. A server hands Kelley a flute that Kelley fills and then raises to the crowd.

“To Kevin and Isabelle. May they carry the love and the joy of this evening in their hearts for all the days of their marriage. God bless us, every one.”

The bandleader sings, “‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,’” and the guests form a ring around the floor while Kevin and Isabelle have their first dance. The first of many, many dances, Kelley hopes.

His work is done, he thinks. And now, he must lie down.

He can hear the party continuing on the other side of his closed bedroom door, but within minutes of lying down in the dark, Kelley is transported elsewhere.

The year is 1958. Kelley is six years old. He lives with his parents in Perrysburg, Ohio. His father works for Owens Corning; they have had a good year. Kelley and his brother, Avery, tiptoe down the stairs on Christmas morning to find that Santa has left them bicycles—a red two-wheeler with training wheels for Kelley and a blue tricycle for Avery. Kelley had sat on Santa’s lap at Lasalle and Koch in Toledo the week before, but he had been too shy to ask for a bike and so he’d said he wanted candy and the board game Monopoly.

In his stocking, Kelley finds candy canes, chocolates wrapped in foil, ribbon candy, sugared orange slices, licorice sticks, jelly beans, caramels, root beer barrels, butterscotch drops, Mary Janes, and Necco wafers. And under the tree is a long, flat box that turns out to be… Monopoly.

Santa is real!

It’s 1963. The president has been dead for two weeks. Kelley’s mother, Frances Quinn, is in mourning and says she doesn’t want to celebrate Christmas. Kelley can’t stand to think of his little brother, Avery, going without Christmas, so he takes over Matt Zacchio’s paper route for two weeks. Perrysburg is experiencing subfreezing temperatures and Matt is eager to hand the route over temporarily. Kelley makes thirty dollars and buys Avery what looks like a briefcase, but when the case is opened, it reveals art supplies: colored pencils, crayons, markers, pastels, and paints with different-size horsehair brushes. For the first time, Kelley understands what is meant by the saying “It is better to give than to receive.”