“Friend of mine,” she says. “Pediatric brain surgeon at Sloan Kettering.”

“Slacker,” Kelley says.

Ava opens a sweater.

Kevin opens a subscription to Sports Illustrated.

Patrick opens another tie.

By the end of the morning, the pitcher of Golden Dreams is gone and the plate of muffins has been devoured. Ava plays some good, old-fashioned religious carols on the piano, and they all sing “O Holy Night,” “We Three Kings,” “The First Noel,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Margaret has a rich alto that blends beautifully with Isabelle’s clear soprano. Patrick is the strongest of the men. Together they sound pretty good, Kelley thinks. Or maybe he’s just had one too many Golden Dreams.

“Play ‘Silent Night,’ ” Kelley says.

“I will later,” Ava says. “Right now, Mommy and I have to cook.”

Margaret and Ava go back to the kitchen to prepare the standing rib roast, and Isabelle and Kevin snuggle up on the sofa. Patrick is subdued; he plops into the big armchair and starts reading the biography of Alexander Hamilton that Kelley got him. Patrick checks his phone every time he turns the page. Kelley is sure he’s waiting for Jen to call. It’s Christmas—she will call, right? No matter what Patty has done, a man deserves to talk to his children on Christmas.

This gets Kelley thinking about Bart, which threatens his good mood. He sits in front of the fire. Bart has only been out of communication for six days, and what else would Kelley expect? He’s fighting a war in Afghanistan. Still, Kelley worries. Bart is nineteen, a child still; he’s only been shaving for four years and driving for two. He has done drugs and deflowered virgins and seen the band Kings of Leon something like fifteen times, but he is by no means worldly.

Where are you, Bart? Kelley wonders. What are you doing?

Thinking about Bart leads Kelley to thinking about Mitzi. What is she doing this Christmas? Does she miss Kelley? Miss the other kids? Miss the inn? Miss her nutcrackers? Miss her carolers? There are at least half a dozen presents for her under the tree from Kelley: the Eileen Fisher sweater she asked for, a platter shaped like a scallop shell, a pair of Alexis Bittar earrings, a gift certificate for a manicure and pedicure, and this year’s ornament—a silver ring containing a needlepoint replica of the Winter Street Inn, exact down to the flower boxes and pineapple door knocker. None of the gifts are extravagant—he doesn’t really have the money anymore to be extravagant—but they’re thoughtful. He knows that all Mitzi really wants for Christmas is for Bart to be safe.

He decides, for several reasons, to call her—the most convincing reason is that it feels like the right thing to do. It’s Christmas, and she’s his wife.

My love feeds on your love, beloved.

He will never stop loving her. He thinks of Mitzi wearing a peach dress at his brother’s funeral, Mitzi lying in the bath with her hair piled on top of her head, curled tendrils framing her face.

He dials her cell phone, figuring he’ll end up leaving a message—she’s terrible when it comes to answering her cell phone—but she picks up on the first ring.

“Kelley?”

“Hi,” he says, casually, almost cheerfully. “Merry Christmas.”

“Oh,” she says. “Thanks? Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“Where are you?” he says. He realizes he never asked George yesterday where they were staying. He supposes he thought they might be sleeping in the back of the 1931 Model A fire engine.

“I’m at the Castle,” she says.

“The Castle” is their name for the behemoth luxury hotel that summarily stole all of Winter Street’s business. The building is opulent and beautifully appointed; it has a pool, a bar-restaurant, a spa, and a state-of-the-art fitness center. Kelley can’t compete with that. People love amenities. Amenities trump home-baked muffins and four-poster beds any day of the week.

“You got a room at the Castle,” Kelley says. He is close to hanging up. He might feel more betrayed about Mitzi’s staying at the Castle than he does about George.

“It has no soul,” Mitzi says. “Just like we always thought.”

Of course it has no soul! Kelley thinks. He can’t believe she is paying money to stay there. And he does not appreciate her use of the pronoun “we.”

“Have you heard from Bart?” he asks. This is all he really needs to know.

“No,” she says. “Have you?”

“No,” he says.

They sit on the phone for a second in silence. He is terrified about the safety of his son; Mitzi must be a thousand times worse.

“Listen,” he says, “would you and George like to come for Christmas dinner?”

Mitzi starts to cry. This comes as no surprise; she cries at AT&T long-distance commercials.

“I’d love to,” she says. “Oh, thank you, Kelley! You have made my Christmas! What time should we come?”

“Come at five,” Kelley says.

“We’ll be there,” she says.

AVA

As far as Christmases go, it isn’t too bad. Her father has bought her cashmere sweaters from J.Crew in three colors, and her mother has gotten her a diamond circle necklace that is, without a doubt, the best gift of Christmas, and, furthermore, it is now the most beautiful and glamorous thing Ava owns. She wonders where she will ever wear it. It’s too fancy to wear to work at Nantucket Elementary School, and when she and Nathaniel go out, they go to places like the Bar and the Faregrounds, neither of which is an appropriate place for a diamond circle necklace. If Nathaniel ever takes her back to the Wauwinet, she supposes she can wear it. And when she goes to visit Margaret in Manhattan.

Ava gently removes the necklace from the box and tries it on, looking in the hallway mirror.

She starts to cry.

Her mother is standing behind her in the mirror, and Ava can see how strongly they resemble each other, but even that doesn’t cheer her.

Margaret says, “You don’t like it?”

“I love it,” Ava says, but her tears keep falling. What girl doesn’t love diamonds? And yet it isn’t the kind of diamond she wanted this Christmas. She wanted to be Isabelle—a girl whose boyfriend loves her so much, he surprised her with an engagement ring. The only person she identifies with is Patrick—his facial expression closely resembles her own. He has good reason: he has been abandoned by his wife and children. Ava’s boyfriend has gone home for the holidays, which doesn’t mean a thing—nobody has even asked where Nathaniel is—except to Ava. To Ava, it means she is unloved, unlovable, unwanted, undesirable.