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“I—I—I—” Charlotte muttered over and over, mouth agape.

A man in a vested black uniform with a walkie-talkie strapped to his chest came around the corner. Devra stiffened. She felt Bradley move behind her, perhaps preparing to intercede. Except he didn’t have to.

In an instant, Charlotte Montgomery’s composure returned. She let out a self-effacing laugh. “Oh, how silly, Isabel. Kick this woman out? She’s an old friend. A dear friend. Just took me by surprise is all. There’s no need for all this fuss.”

Devra winced.

Old friend. Not the child she’d abandoned.

“Seriously, please.” Charlotte flapped a dismissive hand at the security guard, then clutched both hands to her chest. “My, my, this is such a surprise. Look at you. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Twenty years.”

Charlotte turned to address her posse. “I’m afraid I must reschedule our dinner. My friend and I have so much catching up to do.”

The entourage obliged, exiting the building with disappointed grumbles, growing less attractive with each step they took away from Ms. Montgomery.

“Shall we?” Charlotte reached toward Devra, but her movements faltered and she retracted her hand. “That is if you would care to join me, Devra?” Her daughter’s name came out in a squeak. “For a drink, perhaps? We could probably both use one.” She signalled to the hostess. “If you would kindly change my reservation to a table for two.”

“Three,” Devra corrected.

“Three?”

“Yes. A table for three.”

Charlotte looked up to where Bradley was standing. With a wary nod of acknowledgement, she said, “Three it is, then.”

The hostess appeared uncertain but nevertheless motioned for the security guard to stand down and began leading them into the dining room.

“Are you sure you want me to come with you?” Bradley whispered.

Devra gave her reply by gripping his arm tightly.

At the rear of the restaurant, the hostess parted a black curtain to reveal a private room. Elaborate wood carvings and fine artwork decorated the walls. The hostess pulled out one of the gold-and-black acacia chairs. No one took the offered seat.

“A double gin and tonic, if you would, please, Isabel,” Charlotte said. “And tell the bartender to hurry.”

“Right away.”

The hostess skittered from the room, apparently quite relieved to be dismissed from this bizarre reunion.

The moment she left and the party of three was alone, Charlotte Montgomery changed again, returned to the flustered woman she’d been when she first spotted Devra. Devra, who hadn’t watched A Country Christmas Caper, was surprised to discover just how good an actress her mother had become.

“Oh my god. Look at you. My beautiful girl. How you’ve grown. And your hair…was it always this brown? I recall it being much redder.” She made quick, jerky movements as she spoke, touching her own face before reaching toward her daughter, her arms left hovering in the space between them. “I can’t believe it. I don’t know what to say.”

Devra softened at the note of warmth mingled with her mother’s obvious shock, her wide hazel eyes glistening with emotion and that indefinable allure that so often accompanied the famous.

“My girl,” she said again. “My beautiful girl. You…you shouldn’t be here. You need to leave. My god. You must leave. You shouldn’t be here!”

Devra’s heart dropped into her stomach, and she felt herself reharden.

“Excuse me?” she rasped. She took a step forward, and Charlotte recoiled, raising her hands in a protective manner.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she repeated. “This can’t be happening. Oh god, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? I know it does, my beautiful girl. But you should not be here. Right now, of all times. What is the date, Devra? What is the exact date?”

“December eighteenth.”

“The eighteenth!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Oh no. You cannot be here. You simply cannot. You must go. It isn’t safe.”