Olivia frowned. “But what about Christmas?”
“We’ll have it just like always,” Mark said.
“Will Santa leave presents for her too? Will he even know she’s here?”
“Old people don’t get presents from Santa, dumbo,” Izzy said.
“Maybe sick ones do,” Olivia retorted. “They should, anyway. Shouldn’t they?”
“I’m sure Santa will find her if he needs to,” Mark said.
Olivia nodded approvingly.
Izzy rolled her eyes. I was grateful she didn’t make any sarcastic comments about Santa, or even float the suggestion that he might not be real in front of Olivia, who was only six. I wanted my younger daughter to hold on to the magic for as long as possible. Olivia loved Christmas as much as Mark did. Watching her light up around this time of year was almost enough to instill a trace of the Christmas spirit in me.
Almost.
We were all quiet for a minute.
“I know this is big news,” Mark went on. “It’s a lot. And things are going to feel very different in our house for a while. Do you feel like you understand?”
The girls nodded.
“Do you have any questions?” Mark asked.
Olivia raised her hand, like she was at school.
“Yes, Liv?” Mark said.
“When’s the last time I even saw her?”
“Mmm…” I thought for a second. “I think nearly two years ago. We went to visit just before Christmas. We went on that horse-drawn wagon ride, remember?”
Olivia smiled and nodded. “Grandma Mavis bought us all hot chocolate afterward.”
“Yes, she did,” I said, remembering how Mark and I had said no tohot chocolate, but my mother had ignored us and bought it anyway, with extra whipped cream, handing Olivia a cup.
“So she must be nice, right?” Olivia asked. “I mean, if she bought us hot chocolate.”
“Ofcourseshe’s nice,” Mark said.
“But Izzy said—”
“Never mind what your sister said,” Mark said, glaring at Izzy.
Izzy scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.
“But what’s she really like?” Olivia asked. “What’s her favorite color? Does she like ballet? Does she have a favorite Christmas song?”
I smiled at her. “You can ask her all that when you see her.”
“When will that be?” Olivia asked.
“Oh, in a few days,” I said. “We have some things to do to get ready. But she’ll be here soon.” I tried to look happy but felt my unease seeping through. Izzy seemed to catch it, looking from me to her father. Mark took my hand, gave it a squeeze, flashed me a comforting smile.
Olivia, oblivious, leapt up and started spinning around the room. “I can show her my mouse dance! And I’m going to make a sign saying ‘Welcome Grandma Mavis!’?”
“That all sounds lovely,” I told her.
