The doctor somehow managed to arrive quickly and was shown into the guest where Penelope lay. Not knowing what to do or say, the four remaining sisters took up residence on the couches in Helen's parlor.

The sobs of Noelle had calmed into a light whimper, most likely because she had come to an acceptance of Penelope's fate. Danny had nabbed the cookie plate from the table, and now shoveled the gingerbread into her face. Eleanor just stared at the ground―a normal response for her. And Helen looked at each of her sisters quite forlornly. She was hoping that she could finally revive some of the Christmas spirit within the household, but to no one's surprise, her efforts were entirely in vain.

"S-so what do you think happened?" Danny began. She was always the only one brave enough to break the silence.

"I...don't know," Helen admitted. "I have always wondered about her theatrical habits..."

"Her theatrical habits?" Noelle repeated, tilting her head to one side.

"Well...yes," Helen said slowly. She bit her lip to keep from saying more.

"What do you mean 'her theatrical habits?'" Danny pressed.

"Well...I don't want to speak ill of...of..."

"Gosh, Helen! She isn't dead yet!" Danny exclaimed, perhaps a little too vehemently. A fresh river of tears flowed down Noelle's cheeks. Eleanor's clasped hands squeezed so tightly that it looked like her fingers would suffocate.

"I just mean that I don't want to speak ill of my sister," Helen defended. "Is that too wrong?"

Danny shook her head reluctantly, demolishing another cookie.

"But, if you are so curious, I just mean that I've wondered if she has a, well, party life."

Danny stopped mid-swallow. Noelle's eyes went wide.

"Oh, Helen, you don't think that she drinks or does narcotics," Noelle said.

"I don't know," Helen said. "That's why I didn't want to say anything. But it could explain why she fainted."

"I don't think she would do that." Everyone turned to Eleanor. She had a far away look in her eyes, further from Earth than a Christmas star.

"What makes you say that?" Helen asked. It wasn't often that she offered her opinion. Eleanor shrugged, and no more was said.

"What are we going to tell Mother and Father?" Noelle whimpered.

"Exactly what the doctor tells us," Helen said. "I'm sure she will be fine. She probably just fainted."

"Why would Penelope faint?" Danny said. "She performs in front of thousands of important people every year. She's not exactly a spineless sponge."

"Perhaps from a lack of sleep," Noelle offered.

"Yes," Helen said. "It's probably a lack of sleep. You know people in show business, always go, go, go."

"Maybe it was the poinsettias," Eleanor whispered. Noelle froze. Danny's eyes opened wider than the cookies she had been eating. Helen's head whipped around to see where Penelope had been sitting. Resting on the fireplace were an array of Poinsettias, right behind where the poor sister had been seated. Danny's brow crinkled.

"Why do you have poinsettias?" Danny asked. "Don't you know that Penelope is allergic to them?"

"I-I had them out for a ladies' luncheon, and they looked so lovely, so I decided to keep them up," Helen explained. "It's been so long that I forgot about Penelope's allergy."

"Then she must have gone into anaphylactic shock," Noelle said.

"Yes," Helen agreed. "That's it. I'm sure the doctor will handle it."

The air seemed to clear a bit upon reaching this conclusion. Penelope had gone into anaphylactic shock many times from poinsettias. Knowing that it was a routine allergic reaction that their sister frequently survived made everyone feel better.

Except for Eleanor. No, this conclusion seemed to deeply disturb her. Her hands grew progressively paler from squeezing her fingers together. Finally, Helen said,

"Eleanor, you're poor fingers are practically going to fall off. What on Earth is the matter?"

"Oh, uh," she fumbled. "It's, uh, just that, uh...why didn't she say anything when she arrived?"

"Say anything about what?"

"Oh, uh, well...the poinsettias."

It's no wonder that Eleanor hadn't wanted to speak up. Any cheerfulness that had been regained was shattered again.

"Maybe she didn't notice?" Noelle said, though her tone was clearly doubtful.

"Don't be ridiculous," Danny said. "She was sitting right by them. And there were loads of them, too. There's no way she couldn't have noticed."

"Besides, she normally feels a tightening in her throat whenever she enters a room with poinsettias. She definitely would have mentioned it, and even made a big scene out of it," Eleanor added quietly.

"Maybe she's cured of her poinsettia allergy?" Noelle suggested.

"Then why did she faint?" Danny questioned.

"Fatigue."

No one wanted to heighten the others' concerns, so they collectively dropped the subject. That is, until they heard the sound of the doctor shutting the door of the guest. Footsteps echoed down the hallway as the Doctor made his way into the parlor. The sisters stood upon his entry.

"How is she?" Helen asked. If she had been a child, she probably would have begun biting her nails.

"Not very good," the doctor said. "I'm afraid that she has been poisoned."

The room went still. Penelope? Poisoned? She wasn't the most likeable person in the world, but who would go so far as to poison her?

"I beg your pardon," Helen gasped. "D-did you say...?"

"Yes," the doctor replied. "She has all of the symptoms―she has a fever, her skin is bright red and burning, she's unconscious, and she's barely breathing."

"B-but how?"

"I am notifying the police now. They will be here soon to do an inquest. I will stay here for right now as your sister needs to be closely monitored." Before the sisters could respond, he hurried from the room.

Helen backwards into her seat. Poisoned? She had been poisoned? How? Why?

Noelle burst into tears again. "She is going to die, isn't she?"

"Now, now, we mustn't say such things," Helen said.

"B-but s-she's b-been p-poisoned!" Noelle wailed.

Ordinarily, Danny would have jumped in and told her to be quiet. But she looked like she, too, was on the verge of tears.

"W-what should we do?" Eleanor said quietly. She was the only sister who was like her normal self.

"What can we do?" Helen said.

There was silence, except for the grandfather clock keeping a steady beat of time.

"Helen," Danny began, barely audible. "Did you really forget about Penelope's allergy?"

Helen's eyes went wide. Of course it would come to this. "What on Earth do you mean by that? Of course I forgot!"

"Did you bring the cups out from the kitchen when we arrived?" Noelle whimpered.

"No! They were already set out!"

"And you didn't know where we were going to sit..." Danny murmured.

"D-didn't you pour the tea?" Noelle furthered.

"If you are implying that I―"

"Oh, no, I wasn't..." Noelle stopped, because the words she was about to utter would have been a lie.

Helen turned to Eleanor. "You're remarkably calm, despite all that has happened."

"As a teacher, I was taught to remain calm despite any disruptions that may occur. I must be patient with my students," she responded.

"You did notice an awful lot of stuff..." Danny said.

"Like the poinsettias," Noelle said.

"It's almost like..."

"You wanted us to believe that she had an allergic reaction to the poinsettias," Noelle finished.

"Yes, I mentioned the poinsettias," Eleanor conceded. "But I also pointed out the strange fact that, in spite of her allergy, she did not say a word about them."

"Noelle, you were sitting right next to her..." Danny trailed off.

Noelle's angelic face glared at her. "And you were arguing with her!"

"It wasn't an argument!" Danny insisted.

"It was too!"

"Was not!"

"Girls!" Helen's voice silenced them. She rested her head in her hands. "Look at us! We're suspicious of each other! This is not the way sisters should act. We need to stick together, through thick and thin."

"It's almost like it's a redo," Eleanor said. The others' eyebrows knit together. "The last death tore our family apart. This time, we need to act like civilized humans and help each other through this difficult season."

"Maybe it's Jan's ghost..." The girls stiffened at the very mention of their dead sister, Janelle. The last time someone had uttered her name was seven years prior at her funeral.

"Noelle, it is not Jan's ghost seeking revenge on Penelope," Helen said. "Jan's too...kind for that. She couldn't even harm a butterfly, remember?" The air in the room seemed to shift, like they were zooming backwards in a time machine. "She had that project from school where she had to collect insect specimens. She didn't even want to pin dead butterflies to her project board. She ended up just catching one and bringing it in live, much to her teacher's frustration."

The tension seemed to melt at the memory of sweet Jan. Her good heart always brought out the best in those she was around. Relief seemed to permeate the air. The sisters all knew how hard her death had been, and there seemed to be a shared understanding between them that they would never do such a horrific deed, for they hadn't even recovered from the first loss.

But deep down inside, the sisters had a sickening feeling that the only explanation for the events was murder.