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“Maybe we will, but first there’s something else I need to write.” Mabel put the book into the drawer of her desk and opened her laptop. “Something I should have written a long time ago.”

Her fingers hovered over the keys without making contact.

Where should she start? This wasn’t a book that could be edited and changed over time. It was a second chance, and she was afraid of getting it wrong.

“Elsie?” Brooke spoke quietly. “I think this would be a perfect time for us to go and make a start on breakfast. Then we can go outside and build this snowman.”

Poppy gave a whoop and made a dash for the kitchen. Elsie was more reluctant, but Brooke took her hand and led her from the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

This time Mabel didn’t try to stop them. Much as she enjoyed their company, she knew she had to do this alone.

This was possibly the most important thing she was ever going to write. Her own story. It had become stuck in one place, and it was time to move it on.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the laptop and began to type.

Dearest Chrissie …

29

Brooke

Brooke handed Poppy the cinnamon and forced herself not to intervene as her younger daughter happily piled it onto the eggs along with the sugar.

“Brilliant.” Brooke removed the cinnamon while there was still some left in the container. “This is going to be delicious.”

“This is fun.” Elsie pressed thick slices of bread into the mixture. “Can we do this every Christmas Eve?”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”

“I want to stay with Mabel next year, too. I like it.” Elsie carefully flipped the bread. “You smile more when you’re here.”

“I smile more? I always smile.”

“Yes, but sometimes it’s not a real smile. It’s a stressed smile.”

“A stressed smile?” What did an eight-year-old know about stressed smiles?

“Yes, that’s what Phoebe calls it. Her mummy gives stressed smiles when her phone goes when she’s making dinner. It’s usually the hospital and Phoebe’s daddy says, Here we go again, and rolls his eyes. He says she shouldn’t have her phone at the table and she says she has no choice because one of them has to earn a living.”

Brooke winced. She knew Alysson a little from school events and play dates and knew there were tensions in that household, but it seemed that they were playing out in full view of the children.

“Well, Phoebe’s mummy is a very important doctor. She’s probably worrying about work as well as her family.”

“Is work more important than being a mummy?”

Brooke wasn’t sure she’d had enough sleep to handle difficult questions. She and Matt had talked long into the night.

“No. They’re both important. But I suppose the real question is which is the most important in that moment.”

“You mean because someone could be dying?”

“Not necessarily dying, but they might be injured and need Phoebe’s mother.” She didn’t want sensitive Elsie worrying about all the people who might be dying. “Also, a reality of life is that people have to earn a living. Going to work isn’t always a choice.”

Elsie poked at the bread, now thickly coated with the cinnamon-flecked mixture. “But what if she had to go to work and Phoebe wanted to talk to her about school?”

Was that a casual question or a specific one? “Well, that would be important, too.”

She thought about the instances when she’d rushed from one task or commitment to the next. Had there been times when Elsie had wanted to talk to her about something important and she’d missed it?