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could only be so many peoplewho got into the school. There were other music schools—if he didn’t make it, he’d try again.
    But he didn’t want to tell anyone in the house that he’d auditioned. He didn’t want them to see his hope, or, his disappointment if he didn’t make it. Even though it meant they were sure to lecture him through the holiday, he was sticking with the story that he’d gotten a job working in New York City for the coming semester, until he figured out just what he did want. It wasn’t a lie; he did have a job offer working with a group of musical waiters at a place called Napoli. They waited on tables, stopped, picked up their instruments and did quick numbers in between.
    Even if he made it into Juilliard, Mario, the head of the group and a great vocalist, had assured him they’d be happy to work with his schedule.
    It was all okay, really. But he could just hear his father’s voice: “A singing waiter? What kind of life is that, Bobby? What if you want a family, kids? There’s no advancement, Bobby. Nowhere to go.”
    â€œSounds to me like you know how to get where you want to go—just have to hang in and takethose first steps. So,” he said loudly, “Christmas here every year, huh?”
    Bobby realized that Shayne was coming back with clothing for their guest.
    He’d told a stranger, and not his brother, what he was hoping to do with his life.
    â€œYep, every year,” he said.
    As Shayne walked in, Bobby walked out. “Patient seems to be fine,” he said.
    Back in his own room, he found Genevieve and Connor sitting in the midst of a massive pile of wrapping-paper scraps. Rudolph was dancing here and there, and little blue snowflakes lay in strips across the floor.
    â€œNice job,” he said cheerfully. He looked around at the mess. “I think I hear Gram calling you from the kitchen!”
    He led them back past his brother’s door, and could hear the drone of Shayne’s voice. No surprise. Shayne was willing to talk about the difficulty of the divorce at the drop of a hat.
    Except that Shayne didn’t seem to be doing allthe talking. He stopped speaking now and then, and Bobby could hear the stranger’s voice.
    That he was speaking wasn’t odd at all.
    That Shayne apparently stopped speaking to actually listen was odd indeed.

Chapter 3
    â€œDinner’s ready!” Morwenna called up the stairs.
    Her father had been in his study and he emerged, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “So, kid, what happened? I thought we were going to get to meet Mr. Perfect this year.”
    â€œHe couldn’t come, Dad, and he isn’t Mr. Perfect.”
    â€œBut he’s a major presence in your life, right?” her father asked her.
    â€œDad, we’ve been seeing each other about sixmonths. He still has his apartment, I still have mine. I—”
    â€œI should hope so!” Mike said, disgruntled.
    Morwenna chuckled softly. “Dad! You’d be surprised at the mismatched couples that jump in together in New York. The cost of living is staggering. But we’re both doing well, and he’s really a nice guy.”
    â€œSo nice that he isn’t here with you at Christmas,” her father said. He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. She had seen him in the courtroom, standing in just that position, when he was arguing the guilt of an accused.
    He was good at the stance.
    â€œDad, an entire group from our agency was going to Cancún. Alex put the trip together before he knew that I was coming home.”
    â€œAnd a bunch of adults couldn’t go to Cancún without him?”
    â€œHey! I’m an adult, too. I could have gone with them.”
    Mike MacDougal shook his head sadly and sagely.
    â€œNo, because you know that you would break your mother’s heart if you did something like that.”
    â€œWhen people are