Prologue

T he snow outside glistened under the afternoon sun while, inside, the Colburn household was glowing with the warmth of Christmas. Jane stepped back to admire her handiwork: garlands draped along the banister, twinkling lights outlining the windows, and red bows tied to the chairs around the dining table. The stockings were hung in perfect order over the fireplace, their embroidered names a reminder of the traditions Jane and Willis had built over the years. The Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, its branches adorned with an eclectic mix of ornaments—handmade by the kids when they were little, ones passed down from their parents, and a few new ones added each year.

For the grandchildren, there were bright red-and-green presents stacked neatly under the tree, each one tied with ribbons and topped with little candy canes. The air was thick with the comforting smells of Christmas dinner—the savory aroma of roast beef, slow-cooked in Jane’s secret marinade—filling the house. She’d been making it for decades now, and it was always a family favorite.

This year, she was seriously considering passing the recipe down to Erin, her daughter-in-law. Jane smiled, thinking it might be time to start letting go of a few traditions and maybe even consider letting Seth and Erin host Christmas at their house next year.

"Willis?" Jane called out from the kitchen, her hands busy wrapping the last of the presents for the grandkids.

From his recliner in the living room, Willis gave a half-hearted groan. "Hmm?"

"Do you want to come and help me wrap these last few? I’m almost done," she asked, knowing full well what his answer would be. After more than forty years together, she could predict every word before it left his mouth.

"No way!" Willis called out, then chuckled. “I’m not missing the rest of this parade on the tube. You love that job. Why would I want to steal your joy?"

Jane rolled her eyes but laughed. He was right—she did love it. There was something so satisfying about making each package perfect, imagining the little ones tearing into the paper with their tiny, eager hands. "Alright, you’ve got a point. But don’t think I didn’t notice how you managed to dodge all the hard stuff today."

"Hey, I shoveled the walkway, didn’t I?" Willis replied, raising his eyebrows in mock indignation. "Do you know how deep that snow was? Practically up to my knees. I hung those new lights up along the porch, too. So I earned this recliner time."

"Yes, I guess you did," Jane agreed, feeling a surge of affection for him. "That was a big help. Besides, you’re much better at that stuff than me. Especially shoveling snow. I would’ve just slipped and fallen halfway to the porch."

"Exactly," Willis called out. "And we don’t need any Christmas trips to the ER."

Jane laughed again as she finished wrapping the last box, a soft hum of contentment filling her chest. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have to trudge through snow all the time. As a postal worker, she’d traversed in it up to her knees some winters.

Three more years and then no more delivering mail. She couldn’t wait. It made the upcoming cringe of turning sixty-five a bit less, knowing that she could finally retire. She had so many plans. First thing was that she was going to take her infatuation with birds a little further and join a bird-watching club. Learn the names of all her favorites. Collect photos.

She also wanted to start her own book club. One with just her friends she’d made through her job over the years. Women like her who didn’t care for dressing up and drinking wine. Ones who really wanted to share their love of reading. Get together with some tasty pick-me-ups and coffee. Learn about each other and really care about what they’re reading.

"When are the kids coming again?" Willis called out.

"Seth and Erin will be here first," Jane replied, tying a bright red bow around a box. "They dropped the kids off with Erin’s parents this morning, and her mom is going to bring them by right before dinner. Raya and Ronnie should be here any time now. I asked Raya to drop by early to help with peeling potatoes. She’s probably finishing up something in the trailer."

"Of course she is," Willis said knowingly. Raya, their youngest daughter, lived in a mobile home on their property, just a short walk away. She had a habit of wandering over whenever the mood struck, which suited them just fine. Her new boyfriend also slowed her down a bit. As expected, he was her priority now. "And what about Missy Ann?"

Jane frowned. "She called a little while ago, and Justin has a fever. She doesn’t want to bring it to us so she’s skipping.”

"Oh, that’s too bad," Willis said. "Well, I hope they’ll be alright by New Years to come for your collards and black-eyed peas. She needs to start the new year off with good luck. ”

Jane smiled, her heart swelling with that familiar warmth. Willis was always so positive. It was one of the reasons she’d married him. Christmas was his favorite time of year, too, and she loved how much he still cared about having the family together. It made all the preparations—the cooking, the cleaning, the endless wrapping—worth it.

She sure hated that Missy Ann wasn’t going to make it, though. And poor Justin, to be sick on Christmas was the worst.

Jane had to admit, she couldn’t wait for everyone to see their new kitchen. So far, only Raya had seen that finally, after two decades of wishing and talking about it, they’d updated the flooring and countertops and painted the cabinets. Now, instead of the dingy white tiles, her counters were warm and inviting with a few different wood tones in the butcher block style. The cabinets went from a shocking blue to a warm sage green, and her hardwood floors were in a lighter color called Alston Birch. It wasn’t real hardwood, but it sure looked real. They’d put on rustic black iron cabinet and drawer pulls, and she’d decluttered in a big way. No more baskets and dusty faux plants on top of her cabinets.

All appliances except the toaster and the coffeemaker were hidden away.

Willis had also installed faux beams on the ceiling, stained to match the floors. The final touch was removing the outdated, flowered wallpaper and giving the walls a few coats of crisp white. Everything looked so clean and rustic, down to the simple wooden bowl of pinecones as her table centerpiece.

A fancy kitchen needed a fancy apron and the one she’d picked out, and was wearing now, had Santa and his elves plastered all over it. She’d picked it up the day before at Target. It was on clearance, seeing how the holiday shopping was mostly over .

She’d almost passed it by, but Raya saw her linger and urged her to buy it.

The grandkids were going to love it. Every year since her first grandbaby, she’d done just a little more to make the house festive. When she and Willis were dead and gone, she wanted them to have very vivid memories of the holidays and Papa and Nana’s home.

The timer on the oven went off and she went to check the roast, peeking in and nodding her satisfaction on the golden-brown coloring. She turned the oven off but left the meat in there so that it would stay warm.

One more gift to wrap and she’d be ready. She turned the music just a tad higher because her favorite holiday song, So This is Christmas , by John Lennon, came on. She hurried back over to the table, admiring her new floors as she went. She couldn’t stop looking. It meant even more to her that she’d gotten her dream kitchen without a complete renovation, and she loved it so much. It was so cozy, too, with the scent of the roast mingling with the sweet smell of pine and cinnamon candles she’d placed around the whole house. She could already picture the kids running through the hallways, the sound of their laughter filling the rooms, the chaotic unwrapping of gifts, and the inevitable mess that would follow. But she didn’t mind. These were the years that the children were happy with any sort of toy. Time flies and it wouldn’t be too long before they turned into teenagers and would probably only want money, or expensive phones and things, ruining her annual gift-buying joy and the glee of seeing them excitedly tear into the gifts.

Yes, they needed to make the most of this day. Lots of pictures, too. She needed to charge her phone, now that she’d thought about it.

She suddenly heard the familiar creak of the front door opening, and she paused in cutting through the gift wrap, waiting to hear who it was. But then, a loud, unexpected noise cut through the air—a sharp crack that echoed through the house. It was a sound she didn’t immediately recognize, but it sent a chill down her spine.

What was that noise?

Jane’s heart skipped a beat as she moved quickly toward the living room, her breath shallow. "Willis?" she called out, her voice shaky.

She rounded the corner, her feet feeling like lead as she approached the living room. The world seemed to slow down, her movements sluggish, as if she were stuck in a nightmare. And then she saw it.

The sight before her made her freeze in place, her blood running cold. She dropped the scissors she’d been holding, and they clattered loudly to the floor. Jane’s mind struggled to process what she was seeing. The warmth of the holidays vanished instantly, replaced by confusion, then a chilling sense of dread.

"Willis?" she whispered, but there was no response. The air felt suffocating, and all she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat. Jane’s world as she knew it shattered, pushing her into action. She found her feet and turned, running toward the kitchen.