“Thank you,” Kelley and Margaret say together.

“Does anyone want seconds?” Margaret asks. “Look at all the beef!”

“Sandwiches tomorrow,” Kevin says.

Kelley eats dinner, trying to savor it. Maybe it was insensitive to tell the Angel Tree story? Okay, yes, it was, but he didn’t tell it to ruin Mitzi’s night. Okay, maybe he did tell it to ruin Mitzi’s night, but doesn’t she deserve it? A little bit?

The food is so delicious, he can’t believe it. He wonders if Margaret made dessert. He noticed that Mrs. Gabler brought a plum pudding. Would Margaret be able to whip up some of her hard sauce to go with it?

His vision of sugar plums is interrupted by Mitzi, who storms back into the dining room. Her face is as red as her hat. She is holding something up in her hand, something shiny. She is shaking it.

“Look what I found next to your bed!” she shouts.

Kelley opens his mouth to protest. Did he or did he not tell her to use the powder room? But did she listen? No. No, she marched right into the master suite. Possibly she was after the remaining inch of her organic hairspray. She doesn’t like to waste anything, and she might have worried that Kelley wouldn’t recycle the bottle properly.

Margaret gasps. Under the table, her hand grabs Kelley’s knee.

Kelley squints to focus on what Mitzi is holding in her hand.

“Margaret’s watch,” Mitzi says, “was on your bedside table.”

Everyone at the table is rendered silent.

Margaret says, “I’ll take that now, Mitzi, please. I didn’t realize I left it there.”

“You must have taken it off before you slept with my husband.”

“Mitzi…,” George says.

“That hideous watch!” Mitzi says, rattling it like a castanet. “I see you wearing it on the news. It ruins your already ugly outfits.”

“Mitzi!” Ava cries out. “Honestly! You sound like you’re ten years old.”

“Wait a minute,” Margaret says, “are you the one who writes the blog about me? Are you Queenie229?”

“I hate this watch because I know who gave it to you,” Mitzi says.

“I gave it to her,” Kelley says.

“Yes,” Margaret says, “after Ava was born. That was long before he met you, Mitzi; there’s no reason for you to feel threatened.”

“Except that you wear it every single night on the national news as a signal that you still love him! It’s always sickened me! And it further sickens me that you showed up here and crawled right into bed with Kelley only a scant day after I crawled out!”

At this, both Patrick and Kevin stand up to defend their mother’s honor, but Margaret is hung up on something different.

“Are you Queenie229?” she asks Mitzi.

Yes, Kelley thinks. “Queenie” for Roller Disco Queen of King of Prussia, PA, and 2/29 is Mitzi’s birthday. Leap Day.

Mitzi says, “Not everyone in America loves you. Not everyone in America thinks you have impeccable style.”

“Well, I’m glad I know it’s you,” Margaret says. “Although trashing your husband’s ex-wife anonymously in a blog is a move I would have thought was beneath you. It’s tasteless.”

“That’s it!” Mitzi says. “I’ve had it. I’m not going to stay here while you insult me. George, we’re leaving.”

George stuffs a large piece of roast beef into his mouth and takes one more snowflake roll before he stands up. “Yes, dear,” he says weakly. It sounds like he and Mitzi have been married fifty years.

Kelley pulls out the present from Mitzi and quickly opens it. It’s a Barefoot Contessa cookbook; Mitzi gives him the newest one every year.

“Thank you for this,” he says. He holds the book up like a librarian at story time, showing everyone the cover.

“Oh,” Margaret says, “I love the Barefoot Contessa, and I know her. Ina Garten. I can introduce you, if you like.”

“I’ll tell you what’s shameless,” Mitzi says. “Your name-dropping is shameless!”

“I for one would love to meet the Barefoot Contessa,” Isabelle says.

“You!” Mitzi says. “I saved you, Isabelle. You would have been sent home long ago if it weren’t for me. But you have taken her side, too.”

“It isn’t about sides,” Ava says. “She’s our mother.”

“And you were our stepmother,” Kevin says.

“Merry Christmas, Mitzi, George. Good night,” Kelley says. He does not stand up, however. He is going to sit and finish what’s on his plate, and he may even have seconds.

Mitzi and George leave the dining room, but Kelley waits until the front door slams shut before he resumes eating. He meant to tell Mitzi that Eddie Pancik will be listing the inn, but that can wait until after the holidays.

He smiles at Margaret. “What are you doing on New Year’s?”

“I’m broadcasting from Times Square,” she says. “Wanna come?”

AVA

She and Scott offer to do the dishes between dinner and dessert. Everyone else tops off their glasses and heads out to sit by the fire.

“I never really understood the term ‘family circus,’ ” Ava says, “until the past two days.”

“I like your family,” Scott says.

“You’re insane,” Ava says.

“Yeah,” Scott says. “I know.”

But actually, Scott is the sanest person Ava knows. And, in addition to having superhero shoulders, he has the biggest, sweetest heart. She remembers when Scott came into her classroom as she was trying to teach twenty-two fourth graders how to play “Annie’s Song” on the recorder. It was cacophony, to say the least. Scott interrupted the class, pulling Ava aside to tell her that Claire Frye’s mother had been killed. Ava had stared at Scott in horror, willing herself not to cry. He squeezed her hand and said calmly, “I’m going to bring Claire to the office now. Her father is waiting.”

Ava watched Scott lead Claire from the classroom, his hand lightly on her back, his posture ramrod straight, his eyes showing nothing but kindness and some man-of-steel internal strength.

Later that day, Ava swung by Scott’s office. He was at his desk, holding his head in his hands. He didn’t move when Ava came in, and for a while she watched him, wondering if he’d had to witness the moment when Claire Frye learned her mother was dead.