“Like apologizing for making Theo go to war when he didn’t want to?” Cym blurted out before tossing the ball at me again. This time I was ready and caught it before it got close to my face. The girl could take out an eye with that arm.

  “He didn’t make me go,” Theo said. He had the thick brown hair we had in common slicked back with pomade and wore a dark wool suit. A proper look for a physician. I’d wanted to muss his hair from the moment he arrived.

  “You went because of him and everyone knows it,” Cym said.

  “This is all ancient history,” Theo said, looking uncomfortable. “We’ve made our peace with all that.”

  Had we? My sisters seemed to have conflicting ideas about whether that was true. Josephine had been angry with me for years over my idea to lie about our ages and join the fight. Yes, it was reckless, enrolling in the army at only sixteen. I knew that now. Again, hindsight. Theo had followed suit. We did everything together. As much as they blamed me, it was his idea to go. He felt I needed supervising. Whatever the reason, we’d come through it all in one piece. As had our friend Isak, who had gone with us.

  Except for the nightmares. And the way I jumped every time I heard a loud noise. No one knew about those, and I planned to keep it that way. Theo, as the more sensitive and evolved twin, had the luxury of such things. The family expected it of him. Me? I was supposed to be impenetrable in my optimism mixed with recklessness. If anyone knew of the demons that chased me, they might have a better understanding of why I’d opened the distillery in the first place.

  “What do you think, Fiona?” I asked. “You're the kindest of us all. And perhaps the only sibling who still likes me.”

  “We all love you,” Josephine said. “Love doesn't change just because we don't like something a person did.”

  “Of course we still love you,” Fiona said softly in that voice that could sing like an angel. “Our love is unconditional.” She turned to everyone else. “It’s important that Flynn know this. He’s as down as a man can get. Recovering from a bullet that almost took his life, estranged from his wife. Now is the time to rally around him, not chastise him or even tease. I know you all love to poke fun at one another, but this is Flynn’s happiness we’re speaking of right now.”

  “You’re right, Fi,” Jo said. “I’m sorry for making light of it, Flynn. We’re used to teasing you and being teased by you. We love you and forgive you.”

  “Without question.” Cym wrapped one hand around the ball and looked properly remorseful.

  That may be true in the case of my siblings, but I wasn't so sure about my wife. I'd done a few things to her that would be hard to forgive. I could see that in hindsight. First, I'd been running an illegal distillery just outside of town I didn't tell her about. Second, I was threatened by some mobster types to give them my distillery or they'd come after me and ignored them. Then I got shot and almost died. Finally, I was in the hospital fighting for my life when our second daughter was born. I'd gotten the whole town mad at me with the distillery and mobster incident. Once we got rid of the mobsters and the distillery, everything would soon be forgotten. That's how people were. They'd enjoy the prosperity my businesses brought to our town, and all would be forgiven. Except, perhaps, by Shannon.

  My wife. My beloved. I adored her. Worshipped the ground her pretty feet walked upon. She'd been so angry with me, she'd asked me to leave. Something I’d never thought would happen in our marriage. “Go where?” I'd asked.

  “I don't really care.”

  “You’re this angry at me that you’d kick me out of my own house? Shouldn't we talk?” I'd only just been released from the hospital. I'd expected at least a little sympathy considering I'd almost died, but there was none.

  “You've done enough talking, Flynn Barnes.” Not often but occasionally, a hint of Irish accent slipped into my wife’s speech. Her mother and father had immigrated from Ireland when she and her sisters were small. “Maybe a little less talking might suit you better.”

  I had no idea what that meant. Given the look on her face, I'd decided to take her advice and leave silently.

  Anyway, back to Fiona. “What do you think, Fiona?” I asked again.

  “I think the others are correct. You have some apologizing to do. Be humble and ask for her forgiveness.”

  “I already did,” I said. “Got down on my knees and begged her for it.”

  Cymbeline narrowed her eyes as she hurled the ball back to me. “Did you really?”

  “Figuratively, I mean.” Having missed the ball, I reached down to retrieve it.

  “Figuratively is not going to work this time,” Theo said. “You have to do something to prove you truly are sorry.”

  “But are you?” Cymbeline continued to examine me with intense scrutiny. She was one of the only people in the world I could never fool. She knew all my tricks.

  “I am, all right?” I tossed the ball back at her. Again, she caught it without movement from her body whatsoever. Her hand reminded me of a frog's tongue on a fly. “It doesn’t matter how sorry I am. I don't know what to do about it. Shannon doesn’t seem inclined toward forgiveness.” As desperately as she probably needed me with an infant and a toddler at home, she’d shunned me.

  Fiona rose from the chair next to Cymbeline and walked over to the window. For a moment, she looked out at the falling snow. When she turned, her brow was wrinkled and her small mouth downturned. This was her “thinking hard” face. How sweet she was. My chest ached looking at her. “There are seven days before Christmas, starting now, right?”

  “That's correct,” Theo said.

  “And there are seven of us siblings.” Fiona moved back to stand behind her chair, gripping the back with her hands. “What if we each did something for Shannon that helped Flynn win her heart and forgiveness?”

  Fiona could fall easily for romantic notions, and this seemed like one of them. Plus, I didn't understand at all what we could possibly do as a sibling team that would help me with Shannon. I said as much.

  “I'm not understanding either,” Josephine said. “What could we do that would help him?”

  “For example,” Fiona said, “I could compose a song. One that conveyed Flynn's feelings. Then I could play it for her in a home concert. Perhaps while she and Flynn are dancing.”

  “What if we don't have a talent we could lend to this great feat?” Cymbeline asked.

  “We're all different and have something to offer,” Fiona said. “Mine is a little more obvious.” She tapped her fingers on the back of the chair, reminding me of when they flew over piano keys. “Jo, you could write a letter.”

  “What's a letter from Jo going to do for me?” I asked.

  “Not from her. She would write it, but it would be from you. She has a way with words.” Fiona glanced over at Josephine, who was nodding as if she understood.

  “Well, that's kind of interesting,” Cym said. “Jo did get a man to fall in love with her from just her letters.”

  “All very romantic,” Theo said. “Except that Cym and I have nothing to offer. And what about the little girls? They won't have anything. They're too young.”

  Addie was twelve and Delphia nine. They were adorable, but as far as a romantic gesture went, they wouldn't be much use.

  Fiona nodded and plopped back into her chair. “I suppose that's true. Cym’s not romantic at all and Theo is…”

  “Boring,” Theo said.

  “Well, wait,” Cym said. “What if I asked Shannon to help me with my wedding? We want to do it on Christmas day. Maybe she'd remember how grand love is if she were involved in a wedding? She's much better suited to that kind of thing than I.”

  “I wanted to help you with the wedding,” Jo said.

  “Me too,” Fiona said.

  “I need a lot of help,” Cym said. “This is me we’re talking about. Plus, it would be a chance to remind her how great it is to be part of our family.”

  “Is it?” I asked.

  “We're interfering, loud, and basically obnoxious,” Cym said. “What isn't there to love?”

  “We could take her with us to Aunt Annabelle's to have Cym's dress made,” Fiona said. “Would she like that, Flynn?”

  “She has said she feels left out when it comes to you girls,” I said. “At times. Only because you’re all so close.”

  “She has?” Fiona gasped. “That's terrible. Why haven't you told us that before?”

  I grimaced at the look of horror on Fiona’s face. “I don't know. I didn't think of it.”

  “For heaven's sake,” Jo said. “No wonder you're sleeping on this couch.” She pointed at the sofa where Theo was currently spread out with his eyes closed.

  He’d been up with a sick patient all night. Again, the better man, he was here anyway, trying to help me even though he was dead on his feet.

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” I said to Jo. Half the time I didn't know what the women in my family were referencing.

  “It means you're rather insensitive,” Theo said, opening one eye briefly.

  “You never think of anyone but yourself,” Jo said. “Not to be discouraging, of course. I'm supportive of your desire to be a better husband, but I'm afraid you have a ways to go.”

  I let out a long sigh, which I hoped conveyed the depth of my long suffering. “I'll do whatever you suggest, but I'm not sure it's going to help me become a completely different person. I’m flawed, as you’re all quick to point out.”

  “You know what it is?” Cym asked no one in particular, and clearly unsympathetic to my aforementioned suffering. “Everything's been too easy for you. You've never agonized over anything. Thus, you cannot understand the wounds of others.”

  “I'm suffering right now,” I said. “Have you forgotten about the bullet Theo had to take out of me? Not to mention how much I miss my wife and daughters.”

  “Let's return to our task.” Fiona made a sympathetic cluck with her tongue. “I wish we had a chalkboard.”

  “I need an entire chalkboard to capture my problems?” I asked. “Is that how deep my troubles are?”

  Theo muttered something under his breath that I couldn't hear. I'd have shot him a dirty look, but his eyes were closed again.

  “Yes, what can the little girls do?” Jo asked. “We need to take advantage of their cuteness.”

  “Shannon adores them,” I said. “If that helps.”

  “What if we sent them over to play with Pearl for an entire afternoon?” Jo asked.

  “And you could take her for a sleigh ride,” Cym said. She snapped her fingers. “Actually, that's something I could do. I could drive the horses and you could snuggle in the sleigh.”

  “She is a good driver,” Fiona said.

  “Lizzie could pack a delicious lunch,” Jo said.

  “What about the baby?” I asked. “She's only a few weeks old. She won't be able to go on the sleigh.”

  “Louisa and I could take her,” Theo said. “We know how to take care of a baby.”

  “You know how to deliver them,” I said. “But taking care of them is different.”

  Cym made an exasperated sound. “Flynn, there's a perfect example of what we're talking about.”

  I stared at her blankly. “What?”

  “Louisa and Theo would like to have a baby,” Jo said softly.

  “Very much,” Theo said without opening his eyes.

  “You must remember that if you're around Louisa,” Fiona said. “Or you could hurt her feelings.”

  “How would that hurt her feelings?” I asked.

  “By implying that she's somehow inept at having a child,” Cym said.

  I blinked three times. “All right, well, you're right. I had no idea that was a sensitive topic.”

  “It's not really,” Theo said, rolling on his side and opening his eyes. “We're all right.”

  “Are you?” Jo asked. “Because Louisa cried about it at Thanksgiving.”

  “She did?” Theo sat up. “I didn't know that.”

  “Ha, there you go.” I pointed at Theo. “I'm not the only insensitive man here.”

  “I'm astounded either of you found any woman to marry you in the first place,” Jo said.

  “Now we have to work on you keeping them.” Fiona marched between the chair and window. “This is more dire than I thought.”

  Theo shook his head. “I do not need help. My marriage is fine.”

  “When was the last time you did something romantic?” Jo asked.

  “When was the last time Phillip did?” I asked, defending Theo and myself and males everywhere.

  “Just last night,” Jo said. “We left the children with our maid and went for a sleigh ride.”

  “That sounds nice,” Fiona said wistfully.

  “What are you sad about?” I asked Fiona. “You're too young for a husband.”

  “I know, but what if I never have one?” Fiona asked. “Maybe I'm unlovable.”

  I looked at Cym so that I'd know how to react. She was looking up at Fiona as if our sister had just asked us all to stand on our heads.

  “You're the most lovable person who has ever lived,” Cym said. “This is about…” She trailed off as if she realized she'd been about to reveal a secret.

  Jo pounced. “What is it?” She pointed at Fiona. “What is this about?”

  Fiona's eyes misted. “Nothing.”

  “Fiona, are you in love?” Theo asked.

  “No, not really.” Fiona hid her face behind her hands.

  “Who would she be in love with?” I asked. “All she does is play music and spend time with Li.” Li Wu was one of our favorite people and not just because he made beautiful music in partnership with Fiona. His grandmother was the assistant cook to Lizzie. He and Fai, his sister, had grown up in the servants’ quarters downstairs and were practically family. Our father had gotten Li a place at a conservatory in Chicago, where he'd studied classical music. Now he was back home. He and Fiona played at the underground club as well as church and community dances.

  “It's nothing.” Fiona glared at Cym.

  “Oh, no.” Jo's hands flew to her mouth. “No, no. Please tell me that isn't the situation?”

  “What's the situation?” Theo asked.

  Good, he was as perplexed as I. “It better not be one of the drunks at the club,” I said.

  “Your club,” Theo said. “If you didn't run an illegal club, we wouldn't have any of those men acting the way they do.”

  “Fiona, please tell me you're not in love with Li.” Jo had her hands on her hips. Always bossy, our Jo. It wasn't her fault. She'd had to look after all of us when our mother died and before our stepmother came to us.

  Fiona started to cry. “It's nothing. I won't talk about it,” she said through tears.

  I couldn't stand it when my baby sister cried. She was too sweet to ever feel sad.

  This was indeed troubling. Of all the men in Emerson Pass for Fiona to fall in love with, Li Wu was one of the worst choices. He might be the worst choice, now that I thought about it.

  Cym was looking distinctly guilty. Which told me she'd known about this already. Not terribly surprising, since she and Fiona were very close. My sisters kept one another’s secrets. For Jo not to know? That was troubling and also surprising. If anyone was an outsider among us, it was me.

  “Oh, Fi, say it's not true,” Jo said.

  Theo swung his legs to the floor and sat up to look at our sister. “Fiona?”

  Cym got up from her chair and wrapped her arm around Fiona's waist. “Listen, you vultures, this is no one's concern. Fiona has a little crush. Nothing to fret over.”

  Fiona cried harder and buried her face in Cym's shoulder.

  “This doesn't seem like a harmless crush,” Theo said. “This seems like a Theo-loves-Louisa type of thing.”

  Fiona lifted her tear-dampened face. “It doesn't matter if we talk about it or not. I'm doomed. Anyway, what was supposed to happen? We spend most of our days together. We have everything in common. We play music together as if we’re one person. We've been composing music, and it's as if we can read each other's thoughts. He's gifted, you know. So kind and good.”

  “While that may all be true, he doesn't look like anyone else in this town,” I said. “Not that anyone in this room cares, but you know how the world is.”

  Fiona slumped against Cym. “I do know. Why else would I be crying as if my heart is breaking? It is. Into a thousand pieces.”

  Theo rubbed his eyes. “Fi, does anyone else know?”

  “Just Cym.”

  “All right, let's remain calm,” Theo said. “Fiona, everything will be all right. It always is in the end.”

  “That's not true,” Cym said. “War, disease, famine. Many things are not all right in the end.”

  “For someone madly in love, you're very cynical,” I said to Cym.

  Jo shot me a look to convey how unhelpful I was. To make up for it, I returned the conversation back to me. We would have to think about Fiona's very large problem at a different time. As knotted as my immediate problems were, compared to an interracial love affair, they faded. “What about me? We need to bring this plan to fruition.”

  Fiona took in a deep breath as she wiped under her eyes. “He's right. One sibling crisis at a time.”

  “The more I think about it,” Jo said, “Flynn, this is something only you can fix. No fancy letter or picnic will save a marriage. However, spending some time together in romantic settings can do wonders. I was going to wait to share this on Christmas as a surprise for the family, but I might as well tell you now. Phillip has spent the last few months in his workshop designing and making a new two-seater sleigh. It’s a work of art. You should use it to take Shannon out. Take a picnic and a bottle of wine and really talk to her. Tell her your feelings. Not the surface ones you usually display, but all the things down deep you won’t talk about normally.”

  “Women like talking deeply about things,” Fiona said. “It would go a long way.”

  “That’s right,” Jo said, bossy as ever. “No jokes or charming talk. You're going to have to pretend for at least a few days that you're like Papa or Theo and communicate with her as if you're something other than an overgrown boy looking for a party.”