Mr. Stewart parks among the glittering cars in the driveway. Brass lanterns flicker along a stone path leading up to the door. I whisper to Annie. We climb from the car, Annie holding our present at arm's length as if it's a time bomb. We trudge behind Mr. and Mrs. Stewart.
Laughter spills from the windows of the barn into the crisp air.
Suddenly I wish I were Ivan, with his brown hair and cardigan sweaters. A collective squeal of delight erupts when we enter. Mr. and Mrs. Stewart are attacked from all sides and led into the fray. Annie and I stand there blinking in the light of a thousand candles. Pine is everywhere, lining the walls, heaping the tables, hissing and popping in the fireplace.