Page 56 of Jingle Spells

“Wait, what?” Jasper turned to Delilah, confused. “Oh, you mean yesterday, with the potatoes?”

“I mean, sure? But I really mean the day before when you and I spent the entire afternoon on—ohhh, never mind,” said Zahir knowingly. “Forgetting spell. Yes, Jasper you helped considerably. Far more than just a few potatoes.”

“Well!” Jasper smiled. “Good on me, I guess!”

Delilah and Jasper made their way to their table, where Scarlett and Nate were already seated, along with all four Earls, all dressed in competitively ugly Christmas sweaters. They greeted Jasper like a long-lost friend.

“Io, Saturnalia!” shouted Ten.

“There’s our favorite archivist!” Nine called out. “When are you coming around for some more grog?”

Delilah subtly shook her head, trying to signal the Earls to dial it back.

“I’m sorry,” Jasper said, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I don’t⁠—”

“Course you don’t,” Twelve cut in smoothly. “We’ve only just met. Tonight. For the first time. Ever.”

“Subtle, Dad,” Nate muttered.

“What?” Twelve grinned. “I’m being hospitable to this new person who we’ve definitely never seen before.”

“This is the weirdest form of gaslighting,” Jasper said thoughtfully.

Delilah said, “How about let’s eat. And drink! Look what I purloined from the bar.”

The Earls applauded at the bottles of champagne. “That’s our girl.”

The feast began with servers bringing out platters of appetizers: Sticky Date and Bacon Rumaki that disappeared almost as soon as they hit the table; Chai-Spiced Latkes, a collaborative undertaking from the Chatterjee and Silverberg families; and finally the famous “Truce of ’89” dumplings, half filled with traditional Chinese fillings, half with Italian ingredients, commemorating the legendary dispute between Mrs. Li and Mrs. Cattaneo that only ended when they realized they were basically making the same food in different shapes.

“The soup course arrives,” Scarlett announced as bowls of vibrant red liquid were set before them. “Ah, ‘Better Than Therapy’ Borscht.”

“It’s certainly beautiful.” Jasper studied the herbed sour cream stars floating on the surface, almost too delicate to touch with a spoon.

“Just wait till you taste it,” Nate enthused. “Every year I tell myself I’m not going to cry, and every year I’m wrong.”

“You cry over soup?”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve wept in it.”

As Delilah took her first spoonful, she had to agree with Nate’s assessment. The borscht was silky, earthy, with a tart brightness that cut through the richness of the beets. It was perfect. Glancing around the table, she saw the same blissful expression all around.

With each course, the festive atmosphere intensified. By the time the main dishes arrived, all the pilei hats were listing at jaunty angles, and the volume in the hall had risen to a cheerful roar.

The centerpiece of the meal was a massive wild boar, roasted to perfection, surrounded by caramelized fruits and root vegetables. Everyone applauded when Kelly wheeled it in.

And then came Edward’s Famous Five-Cheese Lasagna.

Delilah felt her breath catch when she saw it. Papa’s signature dish, still included in the feast every year, still made exactly according to his recipe. She glanced at Scarlett, who gave her a small, sad smile.

“You okay?” Jasper asked quietly, noticing her expression.

“Yeah . . . This is my dad’s lasagna. I don’t know, I wish Mama didn’t insist on dragging this out every year. It’s hard to see it without him here to enjoy it.”

“Oh sure, I understand that. Although, on the other hand, maybe it’s also kind of a nice thing, too? That he’s still part of the festivities? A tiny part of him, still joining in somehow?”

Delilah just blinked, saying a silent prayer no water would spill out of her eyes.

Jasper gently laid his hand over hers. “I’m not trying to tell you how to feel. But I think that’s what traditions are supposed to do. Keep the people we love present, even when they’re gone.”