"I did a little snooping this morning," Jane said to Prett. "Do all the bathrooms have heated floors? I really love that." She turned her attention to Lindy before Prett could answer. "It's so nice to have warm floors when you step out of the shower."

"Holly mentioned you were staying there," Lindy said. "Prett should have found you a more suitable place to sleep."

Jane ignored the snort she heard from Gavin. "Oh, it's actually quite homey."

"Well, you're our first guest. Be sure to point out any changes we should make. We could open for business this summer if all goes well."

"That Mackley boy is getting married this summer," Mrs. Gingery said. "The girl's family might need a place to stay." Mrs. Gingery and Lindy discussed the possibilities, and the conversation drifted to other topics.

Holly and Danny brought several pies to the table, and Jane chose a slice of Danny's amaretto pear. Her first bite caused her to exchange a knowing glance with Cadence. A boozed-up pie is exactly what I need, too.

After dinner, the men scattered; George and Gavin to the family room off the kitchen, and the Marvel brothers to the living room, where Danny stretched out on the sofa for a nap. His brothers flanked him in easy chairs, focused on their phones. The twins dragged Holly to the basement, leaving the rest of the women to clear the table, except Dona, who sat in her own little world, still eating.

"So, Jane," Lindy said, opening the dishwasher, "how long have you known Prett?"

"Um, since yesterday."

"Really? You look familiar somehow."

"He said I look like an old friend of his."

"Yes...yes..." Lindy's face slowly brightened as if recalling a long-forgotten memory. "That's it, exactly. It's..." her face clouded, "quite uncanny, actually."

"He wouldn't tell me who it was. An old girlfriend?"

Lindy nodded with an odd smile. "Yes. She was much darker, though." She stared at Jane. "In coloring and in spirit. In fact, you don't resemble her as much as I thought." She resumed filling the dishwasher. "You have spark, like Genevieve said. You sure jolted Prett to life."

What is up with this? "He hired me to paint, that's all."

"Of course, of course. But maybe you'll keep a fire lit under them so they finish the work on time."

Celia muttered snidely, "Oh, she'll be working under them, all right."

Shock bubbled up in Jane's chest. "What do you—"

"Jane," Cadence said, grabbing her elbow, "Come help me with something." Jane tried to resist, but Cadence's eyes bore into her, and so she followed Cadence to the dining room.

Once out of earshot of the kitchen Jane said, "Was she implying–"

"Yes."

"But I'm not—"

"I know. But a mouse shouldn't pick a fight with a snake."

"What?"

Cadence gave a crooked smile. "It's something Prett's grandfather used to tell him."

That sounds exactly like something a grandfather of Prett's would say. "Am I the mouse or the snake?"

"The mouse." Cadence continued to smile. "A spunky mouse."

"So that makes Celia..."

"An insane viper. It's hard to ignore her, but trust me, nothing you say will make her like you. Unless you're rich." She paused. "Are you?"

Jane scoffed. "No."

"And she still wouldn't like you if you were. She'd only pretend she did." Cadence glanced around the empty dining room. "Dona's run off with her plate. Help me track her down, will you?"

They found her in the study, rearranging a stack of magazines. Cadence picked up the abandoned dinner plate and left Jane alone with the addled woman. "Can I help you hold those?" Jane asked.

"Oh, thank you. They're so heavy, and I can't seem to find it."

"What are you looking for?" Jane returned the magazines to the table when Dona shuffled away.

"Velentinny's picture. When he didn't have so much hair." Dona picked at a stack of papers. "I know Genevieve's hiding it from me." She put the papers down in frustration and turned to Jane with a perturbed expression. "She hides things from me all the time. But I always find them." She perused the cluttered bookshelves on the far wall. "He was in the service."

"Velentinny?"

"There!" Dona pointed her wrinkled, age-spotted hand to a small framed photo of a round-faced man in a World War II uniform. "Oh, I can't reach it." Jane wriggled around the cluttered table to retrieve the photo. "Yes, here he is," Dona said with ecstasy, clutching the frame to her ample bosom before holding it out again to gaze at the picture.

Poor thing. So confused. "Do you think that's Velentinny?"

"Oh, no. This is Howard."

"Howard?"

"My brother." Dona sighed. "He's serving in France." She brushed the dust off the frame, eyes watery. "He's such a good brother. I miss him. But he never writes anymore."

Tears welled up in Jane's own eyes at the old woman's abject sadness. She remembered Prett's description. A rain of bullets...Normandy. "Was your brother married to Mrs. Gingery?"

"No, no. He married Mrs. Wincek. Meg was my best friend."

"Meg?"

Dona nodded. In an instant her sadness disappeared, replaced by an impish smile. "Meg and I get into so much trouble. We're thick as thieves."

"And your brother married Meg?"

"No! He married her mom, Mrs. Wincek!"

I'm hopelessly confused.

Dona looked again at the photo. "Mrs. Wincek. Then she was Mrs. Howard Pacer. And then Mrs. Kesterson." Dona looked at Jane and whispered, "But we don't talk about that one." She resumed her normal voice. "Then Mrs. Gingery. So many husbands! But Howard–"

"Get away from her!" Celia shrieked from the doorway, startling them both.

"What a witch," Dona said.

Celia crossed the room and took Dona by the arm. "You have no business with my grandmother!" She glared at Jane. "I don't care what Prett promised you. Just crawl back to the gutter you came from." Celia pulled Dona to the foyer where Prett now stood. "And I don't need you telling me how I should take care of her!"

Prett raised his palms and let her pass before stepping into the room. "Are you all right?" he asked. Jane nodded, still reeling from the tirade. "Not too singed by dragon fire?" he added.

"What did I do?"

Prett shrugged. "You didn't do anything." His impassive expression turned apologetic. "I'm sorry. If I'd known they'd be here, I would've...well...I wouldn't have left you alone on Christmas Day, so..." He looked muddled before shrugging again. "I just would've warned you."

"I could've also used a warning that Blair's dad was the truck stop manager." Jane focused her attention on the large oriental carpet under their feet. "I kind of asked him for money the night before I tried for the waitress job. He must think I was trying to proposition him."

"Of course he would."

Jane looked up. "So Celia's gotten the wrong impression of me."

"She has the wrong impression of everyone."

"Maybe I should explain."

"To her? Wouldn't help."

"I should go, then."

"No."

"But if I'm making her angry..."

"She's angry at life. It's nothing to do with you. Well...except you're being nice to Miss Dona, so that's making her paranoid. But other than that, it's not you. Stay." He glanced at the door. "It won't be so bad. Reverend George will read the Christmas story, we'll open gifts, then—"

"There won't be any more gifts for me, will there?"

Prett hesitated. "I suspect there's a gift card. But GiGi will be the only one opening presents while the Turneys are here. With luck, they'll cut out early, so we can enjoy the rest of the afternoon. We'll go home around six with the excuse that Vel has a migraine–which is true–but GiGi will also need to keep her seven o'clock bedtime. She won't have gotten in her naps today, so she'll be exhausted."

"You have it all planned out."

"Holidays run about the same every year." He twitched his head towards the door. "You ready to rejoin the madness?"

As Prett predicted, the family gathered in the living room to hear Reverend George read the Christmas story. After they sang a couple carols, Mrs. Gingery reluctantly opened gifts. "Oh, this is ridiculous," she grumbled. "I'm trying to get rid of my junk and you give me more. Lands, I'll smell like a flower arrangement if I use all these lotions. And where am I going to put these doodads?" She plucked at one gift's curlicue trimming. "Oh, what a waste of a lot of ribbon."

Afterwards, Reverend George proposed another carol, and as Prett predicted, Gavin and Celia made their excuses to leave. Celia tried and failed to get Dona off the sofa, opting to leave her behind. She shouted at the twins it was time to leave.

Blair lingered long enough to drop a small package into Val's lap. "What's that about?" Prett asked as Blair fled the room. Val shrugged and opened the package; an iTunes gift card. He smiled and elbowed Danny, who appeared relieved Blair's affection had shifted to his brother. "What are you up to?" Prett asked. He shook his head at Val's reply. "The only dividing will be your head from your body," Prett said. "Don't come running to me when the dragon lady bites it off." Val grinned.

"Does your head hurt, Velentinny?" Dona asked from the adjacent sofa. Danny took his hands from rubbing his forehead to nod mournfully.

He looks miserable. I'd love to comfort him. And tell him this is what happens when you drink too much.

"What you need is a good temple massage," Mrs. Gingery said. "But my fingers are too stiff. You do it, Cadence." Danny shrank from the suggestion, while Cadence huffed. Val put his own hands on Danny's head, but Danny shrugged him off and moved over to Dona's sofa. He stretched out, putting his head on a throw pillow on Dona's lap. She stroked his forehead, singing a tune about hair, scissors, and kitties. I'm jealous. I'd love to run my fingers through his hair.

"Well," Lindy said with relief as she returned from seeing the Turneys out. "They left quicker than usual this time."

"Next year, let's not invite them," Prett replied.

Cadence brought out the rest of the gifts, and Jane received a fifty dollar gift card. Holly received the same. "If I'd known you were coming, Holly," Lindy said, "I wouldn't have mailed your gifts. I'm surprised you didn't bring them along. Or did you already open them with Lee?"

"No."

"Oh? Will you open them when you get back, then?"

"I'm not going back."

Lindy expressed surprise, then sympathy. "Did you have another fight, honey?"

"It's over for good this time," came the terse reply.

George let out an exasperated sigh. "Your mother and I've had many disagreements over the years, but we've always worked out a solution. Running away from the problem is never the answer."

"I'm not running away." Holly tried to sound authoritative, but came across more like a petulant child. She appeared to be teetering between anger and tears.

"You have," George retorted. "Again. We've discussed this before, Holly. Lee has always been willing to hammer out the issues, but he can't do that if you're always fleeing." Observing his daughter shaking her head and staring at the gift card she flipped over and over in her hands, he added, "You seem to disagree."

"I'm not going back." Her high-pitched voice undermined her determination.

George glanced around at the others before saying, "We'll discuss this later."

"No! I'm not going back!" Holly stood and rushed across the room, but her mother stopped her before she reached the hall.

"Holly, let's go talk—"

"No," Prett interrupted. He had stood in unison with Holly, keeping one step behind her. "Talk with me, Miss Holly." He placed his hand on her shoulder. She turned, grasped the front of his flannel shirt and buried her face in his shoulder, dissolving into tears.

"Her mother and I will handle this, Prett," George said in his booming voice. "She doesn't need your interference."

Prett put his arms around Holly's waist, narrowing his eyes. "This is what's come of your interference."

"If Holly would take my advice—"

"She has," Prett said through gritted teeth. "Numerous times." A sharp pang of fear shot through Jane's stomach at Prett's tightly coiled anger. "What I wonder, is what kind of father continues to send his daughter to a man who does this–" Prett shifted his hands on Holly's waist, pulling up her sweater and yanking her turtleneck out of her jeans. Holly tried to wriggle free at the assault, but Prett held her long enough to expose her bare back. Jane gasped at the sight; large purple and blue bruises splotched across her skin. Holly twisted out of Prett's grip with mortification and ran from the room. Prett glared at a shocked George. "She is not going back. Not this time. Not ever again." With that, he strode out.

The room went silent. Lindy moved towards her husband, who stood stock-still, staring at the spot he'd glimpsed Holly's bruises. "George, let's go upstairs." Lindy pulled her husband to the staircase.

"Well!" Mrs. Gingery exclaimed after George and Lindy left. "I'm glad that's over." She waved her hand at the crumpled paper and boxes scattered across the floor. "We have quite the mess to clean up."

Cadence, too, left the room. Danny, who had sat up during the confrontation, relaxed his head back into Dona's lap, closing his eyes. Val grabbed a couple gingerbread men from the coffee table and offered one to Jane. She shook her head. How can he eat? I'm shaking. Cadence returned with a trash bag. Do something. Help her. She and Cadence cleared away the trash, carrying it to the garage. Wailing emanated from the basement. 

"Is that Holly?" Jane asked with alarm. "Is she okay?"

"Prett's with her."

"Shouldn't we get her mom?" The wailing subsided.

"No, Prett's with her."

That's it? That's all she has to say?

Cadence stuffed the trash into a bin. "This has been a long time coming. Years coming. Holly's finally ready to let Prett help her. She'll be okay if she does." Cadence smiled her crooked smile. "Sorry you witnessed the family's dirty laundry. You got to see the worst of them. Throw out the Turneys and Holly's husband and–" She shrugged. "The rest of them are good people. Reverend George and Lindy are just...legalistic and rigid. Prett's working on them."

They returned to the living room. Upon Mrs. Gingery's urging, Cadence set up a card table and pulled out a jigsaw puzzle. Val joined them, and even Danny tried his hand at a few pieces. George and Lindy returned, and a couple hours later Prett showed up. "She's sleeping," he said to Lindy in response to her inquiry. Lindy slipped away, only to return minutes later, satisfied. George asked to speak to Prett in private. Jane didn't hear any shouting, and when they returned, speaking civilly, she felt relief.

After an early meal of leftovers, Prett made their excuses, and the group departed, Danny retreating to his bedroom. Prett's demeanor had returned to its usual nonchalance, but still, Jane didn't dare inquire about his interaction with Holly. Instead, she asked about available laundromats, and soon Prett and Val were helping her carry bags of dirty clothes to their utility room. While her clothes washed, she joined the brothers on their sofa. Prett flipped through his architectural book while Val instructed her in basic sign language. She laughed at her awkward attempts to form her fingers into the alphabet.

Jane turned in early that night, exhausted and happy, despite the family drama, and though she didn't get to spend nearly enough time gazing at Danny.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments! 😊

Fun Fact: The name of Genevieve's husband—Howard—comes from one of my great uncles. But I based his physical characteristics on a cousin who served in WWII. Eugene Obland Jr. (shown here holding his baby brother, Jimmy.) Eugene survived the war, unlike Genevieve's husband.

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