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miracle, and everything in her knew it.
    Daniel passed a spreadsheet to Merry. She accepted it readily, doing her best not to betray the fact that it was the first one she’d ever been called upon to use. As lean as things had been, Merry knew that she could make a little go a long way, so she tried not to let all the numbers intimidate her as much as those things normally did.
    “So, within this budget, you’re pre-approved to sign for incremental withdrawals,” Daniel explained. “Whenever you need another advance, you’ll turn in the receipts from the previous one to access the next. We can arrange a deposit for anything you need to outsource.”
    “Outsource?” Merry asked.
    “Like a caterer for Christmas dinner, or if you could throw a little party on Christmas Eve—maybe some extended family, a few friends. Mainly, it would be for the kids.”
    Merry nodded, jotting it all down on a notepad. “Do you know what they want?”
    Daniel paused. For the first time, she saw a break in Daniel’s otherwise completely professional demeanor.
    “Actually, Christmas, it... Well, it was more Amanda’s department,” Daniel confessed. “So, hopefully you can burrow into those mysterious adolescent minds of theirs and figure it all out. Don’t skimp, but don’t go crazy. No cars or computers or personal TVs. The last thing I want to do is to spoil them. Just a simple, nice, old-fashioned family Christmas. Sound do-able to you?”
    As Daniel handed Merry the account book, Catherine approached, impeccably dressed. Her heel clicks echoed as she crossed the marble-tiled floor. Daniel rose immediately. Merry followed suit.
    Catherine looked Merry over, and then turned to Daniel. “Almost ready?”
    Ever the gentleman, Daniel made introductions. “Merry, I’d like you to meet Catherine Strong.”
    Reflexively, Merry gawked at Catherine’s last name. “Strong—you mean, as in the name of this whole bank?”
    “My father,” Catherine replied smoothly.
    “She’s on the board,” Daniel interjected. “And we have a meeting across town, so—”
    Merry extended her hand. “Catherine. Nice to meet you. I’m Merry. As in Christmas.”
    “Oh. How very...apropos,” Catherine replied, exchanging a mystified glance with Daniel.
    Sensing the slight, Merry took their cue. “I should go. Get started.”
    With a cheerful wave, Merry backed toward the door. Before she turned, she saw Catherine discreetly move a few raised fingers in return. Her brow arched with a hint of superiority that stuck in Merry’s throat. Then, just as Merry reached the exit, she distinctly heard Catherine’s assessment.
    “She’s delightful, Daniel,” Catherine remarked. “Almost—I don’t know—like a Dickens character, don’t you think?”
    Her face reddening, Merry pushed through the revolving door. It wasn’t Catherine’s tone that had bothered her, or even the first part of what she had said. It was that dismissive sort of put-down at the end.
    As Merry spun outside and hurried away, something about those final words of Catherine’s rang in her ears. They taunted her all the way down the block till she disappeared around the corner. They mocked her about her clothes and her hair and her childlike effervescence.
    Safely out of sight, Merry stopped. She did her best to pluck out the barb and nurse her wounded pride. It was ironic, she told herself. She had long identified with the orphans of Dickens; she’d read his books cover to cover.
    Chin up , she thought. She was who she was, and that was that. Nothing was going to steal the joy of her day. Though no one was there to see or hear it, Merry willed herself to throw her shoulders back and smile. She nodded, and then said what she needed to say. “Thank you, Catherine. I’ll consider that a compliment.”
    Back at the Bell’s townhouse, Merry spread out craft supplies on the kitchen table. Happily, she organized an eclectic assortment of colorfully patterned dinnerware, ribbons,