n the two years since Noah’s birth, the gossip about Vivi Ann and Dallas died down. Not away, of course; it was simply too entertaining to release altogether, but other transgressions by other lovers had come along to replace it. The only people who seemed determined to hang on to the old animosities were Winona and Dad, and Vivi Ann understood their concerns. In time, though, she knew it would be forgotten completely.

Tonight, beneath a twilight sky the color of a bruised plum, she stood at the paddock fence, watching kids chase after a greased piglet at the annual Water’s Edge Halloween party. Noah was in her arms, dressed for the party in an orange pumpkin outfit. Aurora stood on her left side; Winona was on her right. A pirate and a witch, respectively.

“Remember the first time you and I went after a greased pig, Winona?” Aurora said. “All the rest of the kids were behind us by a mile.”

“I’m sure people said to one another in awe: ‘Wow, that fat girl sure can hang on to a pig,’ ” Winona said.

“Ooh,” Aurora said. “Someone is feeling sorry for herself tonight. I thought it was my turn.”

“You always think it’s your turn,” Winona said, sipping her beer.

“Have you spent any time with Rick and Jane lately? They’re the Children of the Corn. And Richard is losing his hair so fast I need to bring a vacuum to the dinner table. Top that, Miss Town’s Best Attorney.”

Winona turned to her. “You actually think it’s better to be fat, childless, and single?”

“Uh. Duh. Again, I point to my offspring and husband. It’s not like I’m married to that hot tattoo guy.”

Vivi Ann laughed. “He is hot. And you’re not fat, Win. You’re big-boned.”

“Lies and pretense,” Winona muttered. “The new family motto.”

Vivi Ann recognized the irritation in her sister’s voice and knew Winona was having one of her bad days, when nothing made her happy.

“On that note,” Vivi Ann said, “I’m going to go find my husband. This mermaid costume is itching like crazy, and it’s time for my little man to go to bed.”

Saying goodbye, she carried Noah through the crowded parking lot, weaving in and out of people who were standing around talking. She heard snippets of conversations; they were the same words she always heard at a gathering like this. A mixture of local gossip; who was screwing whom, who was late on their mortgage, whose kid had gone off the deep end. All she really cared about was that she and Dallas were no longer on the top of the rumor menu.

As she neared the barn, she found kids and dogs running around in the dark, squealing and barking. The salty tang of the sea air was sharpened by the smell of wood smoke and barbecuing hamburgers.

The arena was dark except for dozens of strategically placed Chinese lanterns that hung from the rafters. A portable dance floor had been placed over the dirt and every step taken on it sounded like thunder. Over in the corner, a local band was playing a popular mix of seventies and eighties music. People danced, while teenagers bobbed for apples and dug through bowls of cooked spaghetti, looking for grape eyeballs.

“Do you see Daddy?” she asked Noah, who sleepily babbled something that ended with, “Go Dada.”

“Uh, Vivi Ann?”

Turning, she saw Myrtle Michaelian dressed in a pink polyester princess outfit. Her plump features were outlined in bright color: blue eye shadow, rosy pink blush, red glittery lipstick. A cheap tin tiara sat on her head amid a pile of graying curls.

“Hey, Myrtle,” Vivi Ann said. “Great costume.”

“Where’s your husband?”

“I was just looking for him. Why?”

“Well... I don’t usually trade in gossip...”

Vivi Ann kept from gritting her teeth by sheer force of will. While it was true that the gossip about their affair had faded, Dallas was still a man to be watched in Oyster Shores. Especially by the older, more conservative people like Myrtle. They didn’t like the way he drank too much, fidgeted in church, played poker for money, and (perhaps most of all) that he didn’t seem to care about their opinion of him. “I’m sure I already know whatever you’re going to say.”

“Really?” She leaned forward, whispered loudly, “Last Saturday I was closing up late and I saw Dallas and that Morgan woman walking across the street. They got into that beater car of hers and drove away.”

Vivi Ann nodded. She’d heard this story in one form or another for two years; Dallas and Cat had been seen together at the minimart, at the gas station, at King’s Market buying beer. “They’re just friends, Myrtle.”

“I’m only saying this, Vivi Ann, because your mama can’t. She was a good friend, and if she were here, she’d tell you that no good can come of giving a man that kind of freedom.”

“I love my husband,” Vivi Ann said. To her, that was answer enough. She loved her husband and she trusted him. So what if he let off a little steam drinking and playing poker once a week at Cat’s? The small-minded gossip meant nothing to her. She knew her husband too well to be jealous.

“I love my dog,” Myrtle said crisply, “but I keep him chained up when the bitch across the street is in heat.”

Vivi Ann couldn’t help laughing at that. “Thanks for the heads-up, Myrtle. I’ll keep a closer eye on my husband.”

“You do that.”

Still smiling, Vivi Ann left the barn and went up the hill to their cabin. In the past year, Dallas had added on a big wraparound porch as well as about eight hundred square feet of space, which they’d turned into a new kitchen, nursery, and bathroom. New French doors ran the length of the living room, framing the majestic Canal view and leading the way out onto the white porch.

In the back bedroom, decorated with horses and cowboy hats, she changed Noah’s diaper, put him into his dinosaur pj’s, and lay him down in his crib. “Goodnight, little pumpkin.”

Out in the living room, she found Zorro standing beside her new sofa. He stepped sideways and turned on the stereo. His cheap black polyester cape caught on something and he pulled it free with a muttered curse.

She smiled. “You said you never dressed up for Halloween.”

“I said there was no Halloween when I was a kid. That’s different.”

He came so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, smell the whiskey he’d drunk. He brought up one gloved hand, let his finger trail down her exposed throat, down to the valley between her breasts.

“Myrtle Michaelian says you’re being a very bad boy lately. She saw you up to no good with Cat.”

“The gossip never stops in Mayberry. What did you tell her?”

“I told her I like bad boys.”

He picked her up and carried her to their bed, kicking the door shut behind him. “Trick or treat, Mrs. Raintree?”

She laughed when he dropped her onto their bed. Moonlight came through their window and illuminated half of his sharp face, turned half of his hair blue. “I think I’ll take a treat, Mr. Raintree. If you’re up to it.”

On Christmas Eve morning, Vivi Ann rose well before dawn and began making cookies. At some point Noah woke up and she brought him into the kitchen with her. He laughed and played with his plastic dinosaurs in a mound of sugar cookie dough. When he realized how good the dough tasted, he giggled and threw the toys aside and started eating.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Wiping her floury hands on her apron, she scooped him up and held him on her hip while she cleaned up the kitchen. It was like carrying a seizing cat; he kept reaching and twisting and crying, “Mo’, Mama, mo’.”

She carried him into their newly expanded bedroom. Sunlight poured in checkerboard beams through the French doors, landed in streaks on the wide pine floorboards, which glowed like streaks of fresh honey. “Get up, sleepyhead,” she said to Dallas. “Your son needs changing.” She dropped Noah alongside Dallas, who mumbled something and rolled over.

“Look, Noah, Daddy’s playing hide-and-seek.”

Noah giggled and clambered over Dallas, falling like a slinky on the other side of him. “Dada?”

Dallas’s arm came out from under the covers and coiled around the little boy. Noah immediately settled down, as he always did around his dad, and snuggled in close, resting his cheek on his father’s tattooed bicep. Closing his eyes, he started sucking his thumb and fell quiet.

Vivi Ann stood there a moment, drinking in the sight of them. From birth they’d been a pair; when Noah got hurt, it was Dallas he wanted, and when he woke in the middle of the night, crying over a bad dream, it was Dallas who calmed him. Oh, Noah loved Vivi Ann, followed her around like a puppy dog and kissed her good morning and fell asleep in her arms, but he was a daddy’s boy and everyone knew it.

Smiling, she went into the bathroom and took a shower. By eleven, she’d boxed up the cookies, wrapped up the fudge, and dressed for church.

“Dallas,” she said, trying to waken him. “You were supposed to get Noah ready.”

He rolled over onto his back. With Noah tucked protectively in the curl of his arm, he came awake slowly. “I don’t feel good.”

She sat down beside him, noticing how dull and glassy his eyes were. A few beads of sweat dotted his hairline. She reached down, pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“It’s that stupid play group. Every time I drop Noah off there, I get sick. I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I’ll get you some aspirin.”

When she came back, he was asleep again. She jostled him awake, made him take two aspirin and drink a glass of water.

“I was so excited about today,” she said.

“The Grey Christmas Eve tradition,” he said. “Ugh.”

“What? You don’t like shopping all day, having dinner at the Waves, going to a movie, and then ending it all with night services at church?” She pushed the damp hair away from his eyes, let her touch linger on his face.

“I’d rather eat my own boots.”

“I thought you’d want to help me find something for Noah.”

“I made him a dreamcatcher. My mom made me one when I was about his age.” He smiled. “I kept it a long time.”

“What’s a dreamcatcher?”

“Indian thing. You hang it over your bed and it keeps the bad dreams away.”

She touched his bare, damp chest, letting her fingertip trace the ugliest of his scars. It was an oblong-shaped pucker with pink edges. “Okay, Mr. Raintree, because I love you, I’m going to tell my sisters you’re sick today, but tomorrow is Christmas morning and we’re going to Dad’s. So if this is some kind of Ferris Bueller trick, you only get one day off.”

“It’s no trick.”

She leaned down and kissed him, germs and viruses and all. “I love you, Dal.”

“I love you, too.”

She reached over for Noah and picked him up. Taking him into his bedroom, she changed his diaper and put him in a red and green flannel shirt, OshKosh overalls, and his coat. Then she went back to Dallas, put a cool, wet rag on his forehead, and kissed him goodbye.

The following morning, Vivi Ann woke just as dawn was beginning its gentle rise from the horizon.

Rolling over, she faced her husband. She hadn’t known before that your whole world could sometimes be found in another person’s face, that creases could seem like valleys to be explored; lips a mountain range.

She leaned closer, pressed her naked body to his in the way she’d done so many times before. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered against his lips.

“Merry Christmas.” His voice was gravelly and low, as if he’d been yelling all night, or smoking cigars.

“How do you feel?”

“Better.”

They lay there for a while longer, and then Vivi Ann kissed him one last time and got out of bed. Almost from that moment on, they were both in motion. They took showers and got dressed. While Vivi Ann readied Noah for the big gathering down at the farmhouse, Dallas fed the stock and checked the water in the fields. By the time he returned, the fullness of daylight had settled across the pastures, catching in the puddles and drops from last night’s rain and giving everything a silvery sparkle.

Vivi Ann packed the truck with food and presents.

“Oh. There’s one more thing,” Dallas said as they were heading out. “Just a second.” He went into the bedroom and came out a moment later carrying a big pink-wrapped box. She could tell he’d wrapped it himself—the Scotch tape was at odd angles and covered every possible seam. The white foil bow was hanging on by a thread.

“You know we open presents at Dad’s,” she said. “Just put it in the truck.”

“Not this one.”

She laughed. “What is it? Edible underwear? Or a nightgown that doesn’t quite cover my nipples?”

“Open it.”

The way he was watching her caused a little shiver to skip down her spine. She took the package from him and carried it over to the sofa. He scooped Noah up from the floor and sat down next to her.

The sight of him beside her, holding the son who looked so much like him, was all the present she could ever want, and all the future, too. Still, eagerly she unwrapped the box and found another, smaller one inside of it, and then a small one inside of that. By the time she got to the smallest package, she was pretty sure she knew what it was and her heart was beating quickly.

She glanced at him, caught the intensity of his gaze, and opened the box.

Inside was a beautiful diamond ring. The stone was small but brilliant and set amid an antique-looking gold filigree.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t afford one when we got married.” He took the ring out and slid it onto her finger, butted it up against the plain gold band she’d worn since their wedding day more than three years ago.

She held his gaze. “I never needed a diamond.”

“I wanted to give you one.”

“It’s perfect.”

Holding hands, they went out to the truck and drove down to the farmhouse.

Vivi Ann stood back, looking at the house. White Christmas lights embellished the eaves and glittered along the porch’s handrails. Through the front window, the decorated tree cast prisms of multicolored light through the ancient glass.

Inside, the party had already begun. The Glen Campbell Christmas album—a family staple—was on the turntable, pumping music into the house. Ricky and Janie were running around, playing hide-and-seek with their dad, while Aurora and Winona worked in the kitchen. Dad was by the fireplace, drinking bourbon already, and looking at a photograph of Mom.

Aurora greeted them at the door. In her green leggings, high-heeled ankle boots, and red velvet tunic, she looked like an elf come to life; her jewelry ran on some kind of battery pack and came on and off in bursts of light. “There’s my gorgeous nephew.” She reached out for Noah and carried him over to the tree.

“The usual carnival,” Dallas said, looking around at all the Christmas knickknacks.

Richard chose that moment to join them. In his tan Dockers, cinched high on his waist and drawn tight by a brown belt, with his blue plaid shirt tucked in, and his stockinged feet, he managed to look as he always did, both ready to stay and ready to leave at the same time. “Dallas,” he said, nodding. “I heard you’ve been working miracles with the Jurikas’ new colt.”

“He’s a hell of an animal,” Dallas said. “Just last week...”

Vivi Ann squeezed her husband’s hand and wandered into the kitchen. Winona was at the counter, rolling squares of dough into crescent rolls. She looked up at Vivi Ann’s entrance and paused. “Hey.”

For a second, Vivi Ann felt time peel back. With the pale winter sunlight coming through the windows, wreathing her sister’s full, beautiful face, Vivi Ann remembered another time in this kitchen...

I’m drawing something for Mommy, she’d said, feeling about as small and forgotten as a child could. That was what she recalled most about her mother’s funeral: feeling invisible. But Winona had seen her, had bent down beside her and touched her head and said, We’ll put it on the fridge.

Vivi Ann had assumed back then that they would always be connected, she and Win, that nothing could rend two sisters apart.

That was before she’d known about passion, of course. And though Winona wouldn’t admit it, Vivi Ann knew that their reconciliation was imperfect. Winona still didn’t trust Dallas, and she hadn’t entirely forgiven Vivi Ann for hurting Luke. In Winona’s world, everything was black and white. Justice most of all. And she thought Vivi Ann had been rewarded for doing the wrong thing.

Vivi Ann reached out suddenly, took Winona’s hand, and spun her in time to the music. It was a flick of a switch, that movement, a spinning back to the seventies, when dancing in the kitchen had been a normal part of Christmas morning.

Come on, garden-girls, Mom used to say, dancing all by herself, I need some swing partners.

Aurora skidded into the room, pushing her way between them and taking the lead. “No way you bitches are dancing without me. You know I’m the one with all the rhythm.”

“Comes from all that pumping of your hips you did in high school,” Vivi Ann said, laughing.

It was funny how a song, or a dance, or a look passed between sisters could give the whole of your life back to you. The rest of the day passed in a blur of familiar snapshots: opening gifts, sipping wine, coming together in smaller groups to talk, watching Janie and Ricky ride their new bikes in the yard and Noah walk around with ribbons stuck to his hair. They had so much fun that even their dad’s drunken sullenness couldn’t take the shine off the day.

At the end of the meal, as the girls had just finished serving pie and retaken their seats, Dallas stood up. “My son will grow up with this.” He made a motion with his hand, a gesture that included all of them. “Thank you.”

Vivi Ann gazed across the table at her husband.

“My Dada,” Noah said in her lap, grinning.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “That’s your daddy.”

In no time they went back to talking at once and cracking jokes and commenting on the various pies. After dinner, Vivi Ann tried to talk everyone into a game of charades. “Come on, you guys. It’ll be fun...”

Then the doorbell rang and Sheriff Al Bailor walked in.

“Hey, Al,” Aurora said, pushing back from her chair to greet him. “Tell Vivi Ann we are not playing any games. We’re still sober, for God’s sake.”

“I’m sorry to bother you all on Christmas,” Al said, taking off his hat and working its brim with his blunt fingers.

Dad stood up. “What’s the problem, Al?”

“Cat Morgan was murdered last night.”

Dallas came slowly out of his chair. It was impossible not to notice how pale he’d gone. “What happened?”

“Well,” Al said, looking down the table, “that’s what I’ve come to find out. Where were you last night, Dallas?”