"We can invite her," he said. "She might have plans with her family."
"We can invite her dad too. He brought donuts."
Ethan smiled. "That's a persuasive credential."
Victoria accepted, though not without asking whether her presence would be an intrusion. Richard agreed as well, delighted by the invitation and careful this time not to describe it as the success of a plan. On Christmas Eve, while Cedar Ridge lay under a clean dusting of snow, Victoria arrived carrying a tin of cookies she had baked herself. Most were unevenly shaped, and a few were visibly darker than their neighbors.
"I followed the instructions," she told Ethan defensively as he inspected them.
"Did you measure everything?"
"Of course."
"Did you remember to turn the oven on first?"
"That's a ridiculous question."
He looked at one cookie, which had spread across the tin in an unexpected shape. She laughed and took the container from him before he could offer more criticism. Richard came in behind her with a board game and a wrapped book about old tractors for Lily, who accepted it with the seriousness of a curator receiving a rare manuscript.
The evening was not elegant. Ethan's oven ran a little hot, Biscuit escaped through an unlocked gate and had to be chased back into the shed, and Richard lost three consecutive rounds of the board game because Lily had decided the rules were best explained after each move. Victoria wore one of Claire's old kitchen aprons while helping prepare dinner, and Ethan found the sight unexpectedly difficult.
For a few seconds he could see Claire standing at the same counter, flour on her hands, asking him to taste the gravy. He felt the old wave of grief rise without warning. Victoria saw his face and looked down at the apron, immediately understanding enough to take a step back.
"I can change," she said quietly.
"No." He shook his head. "It's okay. I just remembered something."
She untied the apron anyway and laid it over a chair so he could decide what felt right. "We don't have to pretend the room only has space for people who are here," she said.
Ethan swallowed. It was the kindest sentence anybody had said to him that year. He took the apron and placed it carefully in the kitchen drawer, not because Victoria had done anything wrong but because he wanted to make the choice consciously. Then he came back to the counter and finished the gravy while she chopped carrots, both of them working in a comfortable silence.
After dinner, Lily insisted on showing Richard the small maple Claire had planted. He followed her into the snow wearing a borrowed coat, listening as she explained how the tree belonged to Mommy and how it would grow tall enough to shade the porch someday. Through the window, Ethan watched them make footprints across the yard. Victoria stood beside him holding two mugs of coffee.