Michael Bublé’s smooth rendition of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” flooded out around Brooke when she opened her front door to me. Wearing a festive snowflake-print sweater, she greeted me with a grin and pulled me into her arms for a tight hug. Her floral perfume tickled my overly sensitive nose, making me hold my breath until she released me.

“I’m so glad you came.” The corners of her mouth twitched a little as her gaze traveled over me, as though I’d changed in some small way she couldn’t quite figure out. “How are you? I haven’t heard much from you lately.”

“I’m great. Merry Christmas.” I handed her the gift-wrapped chocolates I’d brought, while pushing back a pang of guilt. I still hadn’t shared with her that I was pregnant, or said a thing about my night with Mitch. But at least it spared me having to rehash my troubles tonight. I’d done enough of that with Faith back home.

Emerging from the kitchen, Ian greeted me with a quick kiss on my cheek. I’d known him since we were kids and each time I saw him, I felt a rush of admiration for the man he’d become. Now a respected lawyer, husband and dad, he’d overcome a troubled childhood as the son of petty criminal father and an alcoholic mother. No one in Eastport had expected he’d amount to much—except Brooke and her parents, who were now his family.

Ian took my coat as I slid the sleeves down my arms. “Good to see you, Carly. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m fine for the moment,” I said.

“Then come on in and join the party.” Brooke hooked her arm through mine and led me to the living room, decorated with a huge blue spruce swathed in white glittering lights and glass balls, along with pine garlands and candles lining the mantel above the fireplace.

Brooke’s parents, the two Drs. Eldridge, sat in armchairs across from Ian’s sister Mari, who shared the chenille couch under the window with her husband Jake. Their two-year-old son Theo played nearby with a toy locomotive, making train-whistle sounds as he pushed it along the carpet.

“Merry Christmas,” I said to everyone, and they welcomed me in kind.

While Brooke and Ian settled into a pair of chairs they’d brought in from the dining room, Mari scooted closer to Jake and waved me over to sit beside her. “How’ve you been, Carly?”

“I’m great.” I threw her a smile, resigned to giving the same insincere answer every time someone asked. “You guys look awesome. Where’s Lily?”

“At a friend’s house baking gingerbread,” she said.

“She’s seven now, right? I’ll bet she’s grown. Theo sure has.”

“I know.” She glanced down at the boy at her feet whose golden hair matched hers. “He sure keeps us on our toes. Seriously. He gets into everything if we don’t keep a good eye on him. And the last few weeks he’s been getting up in the middle of the night, wide awake and wanting to play,” she added with a weary sigh.

“God, you must be exhausted.”

“Yeah, but Jake and I take turns getting him back to sleep, so it’s not so bad.” She darted an affectionate glance at her husband and squeezed his hand. “Jake’s so great with the kids. When Theo had colic as a newborn, he cried constantly and Jake spent hours carrying him up and down the hall to keep him calm while I got some sleep. Poor guy was a zombie for weeks.”

Jake set his beer mug on the glass side table and looped his arm around Mari’s back. “The upside is I was too sleep deprived to remember much of it now,” he said with a half-smile.

“Colic? Is that common?” I leaned forward, curious and a little horrified at the idea.

“I’m not sure what the percentage is,” Mari said. “Do you know, Dana?”

“About one in five, more or less,” Brooke’s mother answered, rocking her hand side to side. “Over the years I’ve seen a lot of new mothers show up in my office utterly strung out with babies that won’t stop crying.”

“Lily was just the opposite,” Jake said. “Slept like an angel. So you just never know.”

I tossed him a weak smile and turned to Mari. “And how are the rest of your kids, the bees? Tucked in snug as bugs in their hives for the winter?”

Her smile slipped a little. “I lost a few colonies this year, but that’s been happening all over. That reminds me, I brought a couple big jars of my honey for you and Faith, so don’t leave without them. Faith says she’s been craving sweets like crazy since she’s been expecting.”

“Yes, but she can’t keep much down. She’s been sick.”

“It sucks feeling that way over the holidays,” Brooke said. “I hope Cole is pampering her.”

“Are you kidding?” I turned to her with an arched brow. “He won’t let her lift a finger. He’s been cleaning the whole house himself. He’s gone overboard coddling her, but naturally she’s not complaining.”

Brooke leaned forward, crossing her arms over her knee. “When I was pregnant with Ava I couldn’t stop cleaning. I got up in the middle of the night a few times to scrub something because I couldn’t sleep thinking about the spot of grime I’d missed. Weird.”

“It’s called nesting,” Dana explained. “An instinctual urge to get the house ready for the baby. But it doesn’t happen to everyone. It certainly didn’t with me when I was expecting Brooke. I didn’t get nauseous, either, but I was forgetful, which was particularly inconvenient for a physician.” Her lips slanted into a wry smile. “Patients tend to become unnerved when you struggle to remember their name or ask them the same questions twice—or can’t figure out where you left your stethoscope when it’s right there around your neck.”

I laughed along with everyone, while secretly yearning to slip out the back door and make my escape. I didn’t need any more daunting thoughts cluttering my mind.

Desperate for a change of subject, I called out to little Ava when I spotted her peeking out from the hallway.

She gave me a shy smile and approached, gripping the skirt of her red velvet dress.

“Merry Christmas, Ava,” I said brightly when she reached my side. “Is your finger all better?”

Nodding once, she held up her index finger to show me a thin pink line across her knuckle.

“Looks great. Are you excited about Santa coming tonight?”

Ava bobbed her head more vigorously while a smile curved her mouth.

“Did you get a special present for your mom and dad?” I whispered, leaning closer.

“Uh-huh. I’ll show you.” She took hold of my hand and I let her tug me to my feet, silently thanking her for the chance to break away from the adults’ conversation.

I followed Ava down the hall to her bedroom—a typical little-girl room, its pale pink walls embellished with princess decals that matched the designs on her bedspread and pillowcase.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she pulled open a drawer under her bed and lifted out an object wrapped in tissue paper. Handing it to me, she said quietly, “I made this for Mommy and Daddy. Don’t tell them.”

I sat on the bed and folded back the tissue paper to reveal the heavy object inside, a crudely made clay sculpture in the shape of a hand with the fingers curved upward. I love you had been scrawled inside in childish print, with red hearts painted around the words.

“It’s a candy dish,” she said proudly.

“It’s lovely, Ava.” I carefully turned the bowl, examining it from all angles. I could picture her laying her small hand on a sheet of clay and cutting around each finger, gently folding it into a bowl shape, and later carefully adding the words and hearts to the dried clay. The image in my mind transformed the rough, lumpy clay object in my hand into something precious and beautiful. “They’re going to love it,” I added, my voice a bit breathless.

“I made you something, too,” Ava said.

“You made something for me? That’s so thoughtful of you.”

“Don’t open it until tomorrow.” She reached into the drawer again, then stood and handed me a ball of glossy green paper fastened with bits of tape.

Looking into Ava’s expectant face, I felt my chest well with tender emotion. Just when I’d thought nothing could boost my flagging spirits tonight.

I pulled the little girl into my arms for a hug. “Thank you, sweetie,” I said into the soft curls resting on her shoulder.

“You’re welcome.”

Releasing her, I said, “I’ll go put it in my purse to keep it safe. Are you coming back to the living room?”

“Mm hmm. After I put this away.”

While she tucked the candy dish into its wrapping, I took my gift to the foyer and slid it carefully into a side pocket of my purse hanging on the coat rack.

When I turned, my gaze fell on Brooke standing by the dining room table, replenishing two bowls of potato chips.

“You got Ava’s gift?” she asked, glancing over.

I nodded and moved closer to her. “I’m so touched that she thought of me—just a friend of her mom’s she hadn’t even seen since summer.”

“I can explain.” Brooke shook the salt and vinegar chip bag to release the last few chip shards from the cellophane. “I was talking to Ian a few weeks ago and I don’t remember how it came up, but I mentioned that you were the only one of my friends who didn’t have kids.”

While Brooke was speaking, the doorbell chimed behind me, and I was aware of Ian crossing the dining room to answer it. Cold air swept across my back as the door swung open.

“A couple of days later Mari and I took our kids to visit her sister Elaine,” Brooke went on. “Elaine took the kids to her studio to do some clay crafts as Christmas gifts for the parents. Ava was concerned that you didn’t have anyone to make a gift for you. So she decided to make you something herself.”

“That’s the sweetest thing,” I said.

Brooke grinned. “Isn’t it? She had a lot of fun playing with you when you were here in the summer. You made an impression.” She picked up a chip and dragged it through a bowl of onion dip. “You want some wine? I think Ian opened that chardonnay you like.”

I didn’t answer, my focus wandering from her words to the voices behind me as Ian and another man exchanged greetings. My heart flopped so hard in my chest that I gripped the back of a chair to steady myself.

I spun around and my breath whooshed from my lungs when I caught sight of Mitch removing his coat in the foyer.