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once, the world became as quiet as could be. The only sound I could hear was the rapid beating of my own heart. I reached for my glasses and looked at my alarm clock beside the bed. It was eight o’clock in the morning! Morning had come and I had slept! How was this possible? I was always up by six! I was sure that I would wake up in the kitchen, but I did not. I woke up in my bed and my old heart was slamming against my ribs like a butcher trying to tenderize a bargain cut of steak. Short of breath and pulse racing, I took what seemed like an eternity to calm myself. I wasn’t sure if what I remembered was a dream. I concluded that it must have been. Either it was a dream or at long last I was losing my marbles. Had the screaming wind been a dream, too? All the rattles and creaks? Or was Pearl really angry?
    I felt perfectly rested, so I must’ve slept more soundly than I thought. Something told me I was going to need extra stamina to get through the day.
    I crept out from under my covers and gasped as I looked out through the window, astounded. The air was so thick with fog it was as though a stew had rolled inacross the harbor. I had not seen such a dense fog cover in the entirety of my days. If it had not been Christmas Eve, it would have been the perfect occasion to crawl right back into bed and sleep the day away. Not that I had ever done that.
    I was confused. Very confused. I tried to focus on what there was to be done. I had to help Barbara produce a successful holiday. Maybe then Pearl, wherever she was, would forgive my sloth. I could not fail Barbara!
    As quickly as I could, I dressed for Christmas Eve in my favorite red knit dress and jacket and attached the same pin I had worn yesterday to the lapel. As I swallowed the arsenal of pills I took each day to keep my wheels turning, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I decided that I could pass for eighty any day of the week. Not bad. Just as I was descending the center-hall stairs, the doorbell rang. Barbara answered before I could reach it.
    “You must be Jewel! Thank you for coming! Come in! Come in!”
    Barbara stepped aside to let this great shadowy figure of a woman carrying a small suitcase pass.
    It was Pearl.



C HRISTMAS E VE
    It was Pearl all right. I began to shake.
    She stepped through the blankets of wet heavy mist and squarely onto the black-and-white checkerboard floor of our entrance hall. She scanned her surroundings for a few moments to reacquaint herself with the house she had known so well decades ago. In slow motion, she lowered her old-fashioned, weathered brown leather valise to rest by her feet. She removed her black knit gloves finger by finger, laid one on top of the other, putting them neatly in her handbag. Next, she slipped out of her red wool coat and folded it over her arm. She smiled, giving Barbara a head-to-toe assessment and filling the foyer with loving warmth. She was glad to be back, to see who my daughter was. Step one of her mission had begun.
    There had never been a life force more powerful than the energy Pearl exuded when she was on a mission. Now she had a Christmas mission, her favorite kind.
    Barbara shrank back, realizing she was in the presence of an extremely formidable woman. She began to babble, something she did when nervous.
    “Merry Christmas—well, almost ! This is some weather, isn’t it? Some fog! Just crazy!” She said, “Thank you for coming! Can I—I mean, do you, uh, is there anything I can do to help you get comfortable? I mean, may I show you, you know, around?”
    “No’m. Best if I just get to work.”
    “Yes. Of course! You’re right, of course . There’s so much to do today…” Barbara said. “Christmas Eve and all…”
    “Yes’m. We’ll have a nice dinner around one, cocktails at seven, and supper at eight.”
    “We usually have supper at six…” Barbara’s voice trailed off to nothingness as Pearl cut her an eye. “But eight’s just fine…just