Daniel rinsed a plate.

“I know.”

“And the Christmas before that.”

“Emily.”

“She asked about you every year.”

He put the plate in the rack.

“I called.”

“Yes, you called. For fifteen minutes, usually while you were driving somewhere.”

Daniel turned off the tap.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Something that suggests you understand what you’ve missed.”

He leaned against the counter.

“You think I don’t?”

“I think you got very good at staying away.”

Daniel looked toward the pantry door.

There were reasons he had stopped coming home, though none sounded convincing in the kitchen where he had once eaten breakfast every morning. Eleven years earlier, he had borrowed money from his parents to establish his first architectural practice. When the business failed, he had lost their savings as well as his own. Thomas had forgiven him almost immediately, but Margaret had not. At least, that was what Daniel believed.

During their final argument, she had said that he was forever making decisions and leaving other people to live with the consequences.

He had told her that she had never believed in him.

She had replied that believing in someone was not the same as protecting them from every mistake.

Daniel had left before dinner.

For months afterward, he waited for her to call and apologize. She called to ask whether he was eating properly, whether he had found work, whether his apartment was warm enough. He answered politely, keeping the conversations brief.

Eventually, politeness became habit, and habit hardened into distance.

“I was going to come this year,” he said.

Emily wiped her hands on a towel.

“She told Dad.”

“I meant it.”

“I believe you.”

But her expression suggested that belief was no longer particularly useful.

She took her coat from the hallway.

Before leaving, she turned back.

“There’s something you should know. She bought Lily a Christmas present. It’s upstairs in the guest room.”

Daniel looked at her.

“She didn’t even know what Lily wanted.”

“She asked me.”

Emily opened the door.

“She always asked.”

Chapter Three: The Christmas Cupboard

The morning after the funeral, Thomas asked his children to help sort through Margaret’s belongings.

He did not want the house emptied. He merely wanted to find the documents needed for the bank and insurance company. Emily agreed to handle the paperwork. Daniel offered to clear the guest room, where Margaret kept wrapping paper, spare bedding, Christmas decorations, and an alarming collection of empty biscuit tins.

Sophie arrived shortly before noon, carrying a paper bag from the bakery.

She hugged Daniel awkwardly.

“Uncle Dan.”

“Look at you.”

“Please don’t say I’ve grown.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were.”

He smiled.

She set the bag on the kitchen counter. Inside were four cinnamon rolls, still warm.