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She found the apple juice and Matt poured the wine.

“Izzy?” He paused with the bottle over a glass. “Are you wine or apple juice?”

“She’s wine,” Jason said. “Izzy is wine all the way.”

“Thank you, Jason.” Izzy popped her head out from under the table. “It would be good if you didn’t make me sound like an alcoholic.”

“After that client, it’s a miracle we’re not both alcoholics. We should be celebrating survival, and I’m not just talking about crashing into a snowdrift.”

Matt handed a glass to Izzy. “You didn’t crash into a snow-drift. You crashed into our car.”

“And you crashed into my wall,” Mabel said.

Matt poured a glass for Mabel and handed it to her. “Your wall may have saved our lives. Who knows where we might have ended up if we hadn’t crashed here.”

Trying not to spill her wine, Izzy emerged from under the table and bumped her head. “Ow.”

“Izzy, come back and play.” Poppy shuffled out and grabbed her ankle.

“I’ll be back in two seconds.”

“One. Two. That was two seconds.”

“Wow. Tough audience.” Izzy took a sip of wine. “How do you do it?”

“It’s the reason I look the way I do. Frayed around the edges. Poppy, sit at the table and drink your apple juice.” Checking the pies were almost done, Brooke put vegetables on to cook and took a glass of wine from Matt. She raised her glass. “To Mabel. And to our accidental Christmas.”

Mabel settled herself at the table and took a sip of wine. It was delicious, although whether she would have found it so if she’d been by herself, she wasn’t sure. It was a novel and not altogether unpleasant experience to be surrounded by the hum of conversation.

With apparently no effort, Brooke finished off the vegetables, whipped the pies out of the oven, and within minutes, everyone was tucking into a delicious hot meal.

“This tastes incredible. I want to come and live with you,” Izzy said, moaning as she tasted the sauce. “Adopt me, please. I’m no trouble. Although I confess, my winter driving needs work.”

Looking at the golden, flaky crust and the rich, creamy sauce, Mabel was inclined to agree with Izzy. “I’ve never tasted a pie as good as this. What did you do to it?”

Brooke looked pleased. “I used the herbs from your larder. And I added a touch of this and that. It was nothing, really.”

They ate and chatted and Matt topped up everyone’s wine.

“This is fun,” Elsie said. “It’s an adventure.”

Brooke’s face brightened and some of her tension seemed to fall away. “It is, isn’t it?” She seemed relieved that the children weren’t making more fuss.

“I like it, too,” Poppy said, clutching her newly rescued soft toy to her chest.

Mabel ate slowly, thinking what a delightful family they were. So normal. And apart from the pressure Brooke seemed to feel about her parents, they didn’t appear to be loaded with baggage and complications. The children didn’t appear to be picky eaters, and Izzy was clearly keen to help and play with them.

It looked as if accommodating them for Christmas was going to be a lot easier than she’d thought.

When she’d first seen them on her doorstep, she’d thought this might be the worst thing that could happen, but she was starting to think she might have overreacted.

“Tomorrow we’re going to make decorations.” Izzy reached for the salt. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Will you paint my nails?” Elsie was studying the snowflakes on Izzy’s nails. “I want mine to look like yours.”

“If that’s okay with your parents. We can do it tomorrow while we’re making decorations.”

“I want nails like Izzy’s, too,” Poppy said.