Ana hesitated. “Sir, we’re having a small dinner tonight, just family, laughter, and food we probably overcooked. If you’d like to join us, you’d be welcome.”
Matthias gave a faint smile. “That’s kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
Lucia grinned. “You can sit next to me. We have too much pudding.”
Ana laughed nervously and led her daughter to the door. “Number twelve on Glenwood Street. The house with the crooked angel,” she said before stepping out into the snow.
The door clicked shut. Silence returned.
Matthias poured another drink, then set it down untouched. The tree’s reflection shimmered across the glass, mocking him with its perfection. No one should be alone on Christmas. The child’s words echoed until he couldn’t bear the quiet any longer.
At 8:45, he grabbed his coat.
At 9:10, he stood before a small brick house at the end of Glenwood Street. Golden light spilled through the windows, and faint music drifted into the cold. Before he could knock, the door swung open.
Ana froze in surprise. “Mr. Kerr…”
He gave an uncertain smile. “I hope I’m not too late.”
Her face softened. “You’re right on time.”