Mira's a little grumpy today. She had another nightmare last night. Her portion of side dishes for tomorrow are going awry and her mother, trying to be helpful, took over, which is never what she wants out of food-making. Her presents look awful. Etta's flight is overbooked. It's a mess.

So when she gets a text, even a group one, from Raleigh inviting everyone to Orchard House, she can't help but smile a little (and feel nervous about what she got her).

When she swings by, people are already laughing inside, music is playing and the whole place smells like Christmas: nutmeg and ginger and vanilla and bright apple cider, and Mira beams. "Hey," she greets the room at large, but she's scanning already for Raleigh. "Merry Christmas!"