"Tomorrow?" he asked. "Rehearsal?"
"I'll be here."
Alex gathered his coat. At the door, he paused and looked back.
"Ben? That thing your grandfather said about dovetail joints?"
"Yeah?"
"What if one of the pieces isn't ready to fit yet?"
I took a deep breath. "Then the other piece waits. However long it takes."
He left without another word. Through the window, I watched him walk down Cedar Street, snow settling in his dark hair, while he shoved his hands deep in his pockets.
I turned back to the workbench and picked up the piece he'd been carving. His cuts were clean and sure, following the grain. The wood had taken his touch and made it beautiful.
I set it carefully beside my matching piece. They'd fit together perfectly when the time came. They were cut from the same board, after all—meant to be paired and balanced.
Only nine more nights until Christmas.
Nine more nights to convince Alex Garland that home wasn't a place he'd left behind.
It was right here, waiting for him to claim it.
Chapter five
Alex
The old Steinway in my grandmother's front parlor wore a thick layer of dust, but its presence dominated the room like an elderly relative who demanded respect. Sheet music still sat on the stand—Anything Goes, opened to "You're the Top." Her favorite.
I'd managed maybe three hours of sleep after leaving Ben at the theater past midnight. Now morning light streamed through the lace curtains, catching dust motes that swirled in patterns too deliberate to be random.
My fingers drifted over the keys without pressing them, remembering how she'd play show tunes while I practiced dance moves on her faded Persian rug. A stack of ancientPlaybillsrested in a brass magazine rack beside her wingback chair. I picked up the top one—My Fair Ladyat the community theater in 1985, older than me.
Her familiar handwriting covered the margins with notes about costumes and staging.Eliza's Act Two dress needs letting out—actress has hips, use them!andProfessor Higgins' cravat is a character choice, not a noose.She'd been theunofficial wardrobe consultant for decades, though "consultant" mainly meant keeping the high school drama department from committing crimes against fashion.
My phone buzzed, making me jump.
Ben's name appeared on the screen. "Hey, any chance you could come early to help with tech setup? The stage lights are fighting me, and you've got a better eye for this than I do."
I glanced at the Steinway again and the sheet music Grandma would never play again. "I shouldn't. I've got unpacking to do and—"
"I'll throw in coffee from Holly's shop. She's got a new holiday candy cane blend that tastes like someone distilled Christmas into liquid form."
"That's a pretty bold claim."
"Bold enough to get you here?" His voice was warm and patient.
I sighed, already reaching for my coat. "Give me fifteen minutes."
"Take your time. I'll be on a ladder when you arrive anyway."
The walk to the theater took me down Cedar Street, past familiar shop windows. The snow had stopped falling, but what remained on the ground sparkled with an inner light, infused with a hint of diamond dust. Above me, the streetlights were still on despite the morning sun, their glow pulsing gently in time with my footsteps.
Fourth night of the Twelve,I thought—eight nights left.
I wasn't sure when I'd started counting, or why it mattered.
