Chapter 17
The day after Christmas was supposed to be for sleeping in and regretting the extra cookie, but Grace’s Lantern House was alive well before noon.
The storm had passed and left everything glazed with diamonds.
By ten, Caroline was in the kitchen arguing with the espresso machine and Anna was already “supervising” from the barstools, her hair in two perfect braids like a Scandinavian ad for mulled wine.
Olivia glided in wearing a robe that cost more than Grace’s first car, carrying a box of imported panettone and making it look like nothing at all.
Bryant arrived last, the only one who knocked before coming in, with a grocery bag full of oranges and a face so scrubbed it was almost childlike. He wore his hair mussed and a thermal shirt that could have been painted on. Grace didn’t know why this made her nervous, but it did.
They called it a “brunch,” but it was closer to a sit-in.
There was enough coffee to caffeinate every mom at drop off at the school, and the menu was “Caroline’s Christmas Morning Casserole,” which contained at least six kinds of cheese and something that might have been hashbrowns but could also have been tater tots.
Anna contributed three kinds of smoked salmon and a bottle of aquavit; Olivia, in a rare moment of culinary humility, brought only the panettone and a box of chocolates.
Bryant, who’d never once cooked in Grace’s presence, peeled oranges with meticulous care and lined them in neat segments around the edge of her plates.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re obsessive?” Grace said, half-teasing.
He nodded, as if this were an unremarkable fact. “Came up a lot in marriage counseling.”
Anna cackled. “He does that with potato chips, too. Lines them up by size and flavor. Robert says it’s how you know a man can be trusted.”
“Robert’s eating habits are a cry for help,” Olivia deadpanned, but she accepted a plate from Bryant anyway and arranged the orange slices into a sunburst on her panettone.
Grace put on the Motown Christmas playlist and cranked it so loud the espresso machine’s hiss was drowned out. Someone, probably Caroline, spiked the second pot of coffee with Bailey’s, and nobody pretended to mind.
The first hour was pure holiday aftershock.
Caroline recounted the full saga of Tessa’s hospital drama.
“She tried to live-tweet her own intake! With the oxygen mask still on!” Anna bemoaned the local elementary school’s decision to cancel the Christmas pageant because the moms wouldn’t stop fighting, and Olivia held court about the time she’d catered for an actual, literal cult.
“No carbs after sunset, and the appetizers had to be cut into perfectly even triangles or the high priest got twitchy.” Bryant contributed mostly by refilling coffee and letting the others talk, which seemed to be his idea of a party.
Grace found herself almost happy. She wore leggings under her flannel nightgown and didn’t care that it looked like the sleepwear of a frontier orphan.
She let herself lean into the comfort, the chatter, the way her kitchen looked filled with people who felt more like family every day.
She’d grown up braced for sudden departures, for moving boxes and empty rooms. The sheer dailiness of this, Bryant, Anna, Caroline, Olivia, felt, for once, like a thing she could keep.
Eventually, Caroline clapped her hands. “Enough reminiscing! It’s time for the gift exchange, and no one gets more coffee until we do it right.”
Anna made a show of groaning. “You already gave me a gift, remember? It was a bottle of shampoo labeled ‘For Unruly Sea Creatures.’”
Caroline beamed. “I’m a giver.”
Olivia patted Anna’s shoulder. “She means well, dear. Some of us just aren’t trainable.”
Grace had expected a grab-bag of funny mugs and regifted candles, but the pile under her little silver tree was impressive: wrapped boxes in Caroline’s signature gold-and-white, a bag with tissue paper exploding from the top, Anna, a box that looked suspiciously like it had been wrapped by Bryant himself, tape everywhere, corners lumpy, and a tastefully minimalist package that had Olivia’s handwriting on the tag.
As the host, Grace was forced to go first. She opened Olivia’s gift: a scarf of deep green silk, cold and smooth in her hands. The note said simply, “For the next time you want to hide in plain sight.” Grace touched it to her neck and felt her eyes sting, just for a second.
Anna’s gift was a set of locally made bath bombs, each one labeled with a different “oceanic mood.” Grace snorted at the “Tidal Meltdown” and “Brackish Mystery,” but when she popped the lid the scents were enough to make her dizzy with want.
“You’re trying to make me smell like you, aren’t you? ” she accused.
Anna shrugged. “You could do worse.”
Caroline, never subtle, handed Grace a velvet jewelry box.
Inside was a necklace with a glass snowflake on a heavy silver chain.
The snowflake sparkled, catching the morning light and scattering it around the kitchen.
“You can wear it next year when you’re the Grand Marshal of the town parade,” Caroline said, as if this was a foregone conclusion.
Grace choked. “You want me to ride on a float? In a tiara?”
Caroline raised an eyebrow. “If anyone deserves a tiara in this town, it’s you. Besides, it’ll drive the mayor insane.”
Bryant’s gift was the one that made Grace pause.
The wrapping was all wrong—paper torn from a grocery bag, taped shut with blue painter’s tape.
Inside was a chess set, but not the plastic one she’d been using.
This one was weighty, marble and wood, the pieces elegant and old-fashioned.
The box was lined in blue felt. A post-it, stuck to the inside, read: “For the next time you want to lose on purpose.”
She looked up and caught Bryant’s gaze. He shrugged, but his ears were red. “You said you liked playing.”
“I do,” she said, softer than she meant to. “Thank you.”
“Open yours next,” Anna urged, pushing a lumpy bag toward Bryant. He extracted a tin of cookies labeled “Guaranteed Not to Kill You,” a pair of Christmas socks with dogs in Santa hats, and a paperback crime novel with a lurid cover.
“Thought you could use some lighter reading,” Anna said. “The last book on your end table was the Owner’s Manual for a 2009 Dodge Ram.”
He grinned, flipping the book over. “This might be above my reading level, but I’ll give it a try.”
Caroline got a bottle of “seasonal” gin from Olivia, “It’s infused with spruce tips and disappointment,” Olivia said, and a matching set of cocktail glasses with “Drama Queen” etched in gold on the side. She promptly mixed herself a drink to test it out.
Anna’s present from Caroline was a scarf in the colors of the Chicago Cubs, which Anna immediately wound around her neck, declaring it “hideous and perfect.” She also got a jar of pickled herring, which she unwrapped and threatened everyone with.
Olivia’s gifts were more understated, fancy lotion, a sleek black notebook, and a box of gourmet marshmallows that she claimed she’d never eat because “marshmallows are vulgar.” But Grace caught her later, popping one into her coffee and looking almost blissful.
Finally, Grace dug out the package she’d wrapped for Bryant.
It was a set of two oversized mugs, one that said “Two Houses…” and the other “One Coffee Habit…” She’d ordered them as a joke, but the look on Bryant’s face when he unwrapped the “One Coffee Habit…” mug was worth every second.
He held it up, showing off the awful, lopsided font.
Caroline cackled. “You’re practically married now.”
Bryant just smiled. “Guess I’ll have to move my coffee machine over here.”
The kitchen was chaos for a while. Gifts being passed around, commentary, the sound of carols layered over arguments about whether die-hard New Englanders were more likely to poison each other over sports or politics.
Grace drifted, content, refilling her own mug and watching the people in her house as if she could memorize the moment and replay it forever.
But as the last presents were opened and the wrapping paper had been trampled into festive confetti, Olivia pointed at the foot of the tree. “There’s one more,” she said, “unless you’re hoarding gifts, Grace.”
Grace frowned. “I’m not. That’s… weird.” The package was small, no bigger than a ring box, wrapped in glossy red paper with a white ribbon. The tag just said “To Grace,” nothing else. She looked around the table. “Whose is it?”
Anna shrugged. “Not me.”
Caroline gave a regal little shake. “Honey, when I give presents, I want you to know who to thank.”
Olivia just raised both eyebrows. “Not my color palette.”
Bryant shook his head. “I didn’t leave anything under there. Promise.”
The box sat on her palm, light as air. “Maybe one of you bought it and forgot?” she said, but even as she spoke, the idea felt wrong.
She glanced up at Bryant, who had gone very still.
Anna grinned. “Maybe it’s a secret admirer.”
Grace considered setting it aside, but the group’s collective curiosity was louder than her own caution. She peeled off the ribbon and tore the paper. Inside was a velvet box, ordinary enough. She opened it.
The necklace was the first thing she saw, and the air seemed to drop twenty degrees.
It was a coin. A silver dollar, worn but shiny, with a perfectly round hole punched dead center.
The hole was ragged at the edge, like it had been made by a bullet.
The chain was thin, almost delicate, but the pendant hung heavy.
It was the same as the one Clint Hayes and Tommy Briggs had worn in the Halloween case. The one Grace had seen in her vision, the same jagged-edged coin that had caught the blood and the light as Sam died.
She touched the coin, and the room spun.
For a split second she was somewhere else: a room filled with pink and red hearts, cut-out Cupids, the sickly-sweet smell of discount chocolate and roses.
She heard laughter, then a shriek, then saw the blood, so much of it, splattered across a paper tablecloth covered in candy hearts.
The vision snapped off with a lurch, leaving her breathless and cold.
The others were staring at her. Olivia’s eyes were sharp, and even Caroline’s mouth was flat with concern.
Grace cleared her throat. “It’s a… coin necklace,” she managed, but her hands shook as she put it down on the table.
Bryant reached over and covered her hand with his. His touch was gentle, but his gaze was all business. “Are you okay?”
Grace nodded, though she didn’t believe it. “It’s the same as the one I touched and had a vision with during the Halloween murder.”
Anna’s face, usually so open, went blank. “That’s… not possible. Where did it come from?”
Caroline put her drink down, the sound uncharacteristically loud. “Someone’s screwing with us,” she said, “and I don’t like it.”
Olivia leaned forward, examining the necklace. “Do you think it’s from the person who killed Tommy?”
Bryant didn’t look away from Grace. “Did you see anything?” he asked, voice low.
Grace hesitated, but there was no point lying. “Hearts. Valentine’s stuff. A lot of blood. Someone screaming, but I couldn’t see who.”
Olivia nodded once, as if confirming a private suspicion. “That fits the pattern.”
Anna reached for the necklace, then stopped. “Should we call Tessa? Or the police?”
Caroline, always the fixer, said, “Let’s not panic. It’s probably some sick prank. But maybe you should check the locks, just in case.”
Anna’s hand hovered over the coin, but she didn’t touch it. “If someone got in, wouldn’t we have noticed?”
Olivia shook her head. “You’re assuming this is a normal someone. Whoever left that is good at what they do.”
Bryant was silent, but the muscle in his jaw jumped. “I’ll check the doors. And call Frank. He’s on patrol today.”
He disappeared, the old house creaking with every step.
The others watched Grace, as if she might break. “I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was as convincing as tissue paper.
Olivia tilted her head. “You don’t have to be.”
Caroline reached over and took her hand, squeezing hard. “We’re not going anywhere, honey. Not even if the next gift is a live cobra.”
Anna finally touched the necklace, turning the coin over in her fingers. “Did you feel anything from it? Like, psychically?”
Grace shrugged. “Just the vision. It was strong, but… impersonal. Like someone watching from a distance.”
Olivia traced the rim of her coffee mug. “Whoever it is, they know about you. About the visions. And they want you to see what’s coming.”
Grace’s stomach turned. “That’s not the part that scares me.”
Anna looked at her, all softness gone. “What does?”
Grace picked up the necklace, holding it by the chain so it spun, catching the light. “They got in. They might have even left this while we were all here, while the house was full. They want me to know they can get close.”
There was a silence, heavy and uneasy, broken only by the sound of Bryant returning, shutting the door with more force than necessary.
He sat next to Grace, close enough their knees touched. “Doors are fine. No signs of forced entry. Frank will do a sweep, but I’m not hopeful.”
Caroline finished her drink and refilled it, which seemed more like a ritual than a need. “Maybe it’s a warning,” she said. “Maybe they just want to scare us.”
Grace shook her head, the coin still swinging. “It’s a promise. The next killing is going to happen on Valentine’s Day.”
Olivia met her gaze, eyes unblinking. “Then we’ll be ready. Won’t we, Bryant?”
He nodded, once. “Yeah. We’ll be ready.”
The rest of the day was quieter, the music softer, the laughter a little more forced.
But they stayed, none of them left, not even when the sun set and the sky went purple behind the stained glass.
Grace played chess with Bryant on the new set, letting him win two games before she won one.
Anna started a puzzle on the coffee table.
Caroline mixed more drinks. Olivia watched the fire, silent and sharp.
When everyone finally drifted off, Grace stood at the window, looking out at the snow and the darkness. She wore the green scarf, but her hand kept returning to the necklace in her pocket.
She knew the killer was out there. Maybe close, maybe watching. Already plotting the next move.
But for the first time, she didn’t feel alone. Even when she was.
She turned off the lights, locked the door, and sat by the fire until it burned down to embers. The silence was heavy, but she didn’t flinch.
She’d seen what was coming.
And this time, she was ready to fight back.