Prologue
PROLOGUE
T he snow fell steadily outside, blanketing the yard in a pristine white layer and muffling the world beyond the windows. Emmarie stood at the kitchen sink, staring out at the swirling flakes as she absentmindedly dried the same mug for the third time. She could hear the muffled groans of her kids in the living room, and she didn’t need to look to know what she’d see—Drew and Marley slouched on the couch, their faces heavy with boredom. Between them, the family’s elderly calico cat, Nova, dozed, blissfully unaware of the restlessness around her.
Emmarie sighed, setting the mug on the counter. Snow days aren’t what they used to be, she thought. With no internet thanks to the storm, the house felt oddly quiet. No streaming services, no games, no social media—just a heavy silence occasionally broken by the kids’ exaggerated sighs.
“I’m bored,” Drew announced loudly, his ten-year-old voice carrying a dramatic edge.
“Me too,” Marley agreed, tugging on her fuzzy socks as she curled deeper into the couch. The seven-year-old’s curls bounced as she nodded emphatically, glaring at the snow-covered window as if it were the culprit.
Emmarie wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked into the living room. “You and me both, kiddo,” she said, ruffling Drew’s sandy hair on her way to sit on the arm of the couch.
Marley perked up first, her big brown eyes widening. “Mom, can we bake cookies?”
“We don’t have chocolate chips,” Emmarie said apologetically, though the idea of baking in their already chilly house didn’t appeal much anyway.
Drew groaned and flopped back dramatically against the cushions. “What are we supposed to do all day?”
Emmarie smirked, crossing her arms. “Well, there is one thing we haven’t done yet.” She let the words hang for a moment, enjoying the curious looks that replaced their boredom. “How about we put up the Christmas tree?”
The room lit up instantly. Marley scrambled to her feet, nearly jostling Snowball, who gave an annoyed meow and leapt onto the floor. “Yes, yes, yes!” Marley chirped, tugging on her mom’s sleeve.
Drew tried to play it cool but couldn’t hide the grin spreading across his face. “Can we do the lights too?”
Emmarie chuckled. “Of course. Go grab your boots and coats. We’ve got some digging to do in the garage.”
As they shuffled off to bundle up, Emmarie felt a small pang of nostalgia. Putting up the tree had always been her favorite part of Christmas, and though the years had brought plenty of change, the ritual was something she cherished.
The three of them trudged to the garage, the kids chatting excitedly about ornaments and lights. As they started pulling down dusty boxes from the shelves, Marley paused, her little hands clutching a tinsel-filled bin.
“Mom,” she said, her voice soft but curious, “what was the best Christmas you ever had?”
Emmarie blinked, caught off guard by the question. Before she could answer, Drew chimed in, his tone skeptical. “No, tell us about the worst one. Bet that’s way more interesting.”
Emmarie laughed, setting down a box of ornaments and brushing her long, light brown hair from her face. “Funny you should ask,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Because my best Christmas and my worst Christmas? They were the same one.”
Drew furrowed his brow. “That’s not possible.”
“Oh, it’s possible,” Emmarie said with a grin, hoisting the tree box toward the door. “Now help me carry this inside, and I’ll tell you all about it.”