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Izzy shifted so that she could look at him. “You make them with Jess?”

“Every year. This year, my sister will have to do it. She’s already complaining. She doesn’t love the cold.”

“Do you think she’ll move back to California?”

Jason shook his head. “No, because having family close by is more important to her than climate. Our parents are in the area, and David’s job is in Boston.”

“You’re lucky,” Brooke said. “All living close together. Makes life easier for everyone.”

And Izzy knew she was thinking about her own parents and the distance between them.

“I’m a champion snowman maker, too,” Matt said. “I bet my snowman will be bigger and better than yours, Jason.”

“Done. Challenge accepted.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Could you at least pretend it’s for Poppy and not some sort of test of manhood?”

The conversation rumbled on, lighter and teasing, until finally Brooke yawned and announced that she was turning in because she knew the girls would wake up early.

Mabel stood up, too. “We all should probably get some rest if we’re to have sufficient energy for the snowman contest. My snowman building days are long past, so I’ll be the judge. Good night.” She paused in the doorway. “Thank you, all of you. It was a lovely evening. The best I can remember having in a long time.”

“It was perfect.” Brooke took Matt’s hand and ushered him out of the room, pausing briefly to wink at Izzy before closing the door on them.

Jason yawned. “She’s not subtle, is she?”

“Not at all.” But Izzy didn’t even care anymore. “I honestly think she might be one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” She was conscious that it was just the two of them in this cosy, idyllic room. “And Mabel, too. I thought I was the only one with a sad family story. I hope she gets in touch with Chrissie. It seems like such a waste.”

“Yes. Although doing so would take great courage, I suspect. The question is whether the power of love is greater than the fear of rejection.”

She wondered for a moment if he was asking her that question. If she was expected to answer.

But maybe not because even as her brain tried to wrestle with it, he shifted so he was facing her. “I don’t want to talk about Mabel. Or Brooke. I want to focus on you.”

“Me?” Since when had it been this difficult to breathe?

“Yes, you.” His voice was soft and his hands were gentle in her hair as he drew her head towards his. “Where were we before we were interrupted earlier?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Ouch.” He gave a slow smile. “Tell me something—is it too late for Santa to amend his naughty or nice list? When exactly is the deadline?”

“I don’t know. I think sometimes his list gets confused. I’m always nice, and all he brought me last year was a broken boiler and a leaking washing machine. Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m about to be very, very naughty—” he murmured the words against her lips “—so I hope we are past Santa’s deadline. I’d hate for him to change my gift at this late stage. I wrote to him months ago.”

She eased away slightly. “You wrote to Santa?”

“Yes. Jess and I did it together in July. It’s the most important date of the year.”

She imagined him sitting side by side with his niece, doing what he could to make her dreams come true. Thanks to him, Jess would never grow up feeling as if she didn’t matter to anyone, or that love was conditional.

He’d taught her that there were people you could trust. That love was something she could depend on.

“July? Isn’t that a little early to write to Santa? Not that I’m an expert, you understand.” The more she learned about him, the harder he was to resist.

“Jess is thoughtful,” he said. “She likes to give Santa plenty of time. There’s more chance of him coming through.”

“What did you ask him for?”