“I get it. And speaking of the holidays, all your boxes with the kids’ gifts in them arrived safe and sound. They’re all wrapped up and ready to be torn open by eager little hands.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at her, grateful again to have such a supportive family. “I was dreading this Christmas, but being home again, seeing the house with all the lights on it, and the snow on the ground, it feels nostalgic in a good way. I want to take the kids sledding and ice skating and build a snowman by the barn like we used to.”

“Yes! You have to.” April looked excited. “Remember the snowball fights we used to have? Those were epic. We need to do that again.”

I laughed. “My kids would be all in for sure. And they could use the fun. But enough about us. How’s everybody else? Dad’s health seems good.”

April nodded. “Mom and Dad are doing great. Enjoyed their cruise and are considering spending a month or so in Florida over the winter, maybe even buying a place down there. Dad’s not a hundred percent retired yet, but he works much less. He walks on the treadmill or outside every day, and he’s at Mack and Frannie’s house a lot—loves being a bonus grandfather. Mack’s girls even call him Grandpa John.”

I smiled. “That’s so cute. And Frannie’s doing well? I can’t believe she’s a stepmom of three—our baby sister! She’s not even thirty yet!”

“I know. And she’s a natural. I bet they have their own kids soon too.”

“Wow. Hard to imagine. Time flies, doesn’t it?” I shook my head. “How about Chloe? Have she and Oliver set a wedding date?” Chloe, the second youngest Sawyer sister, had gotten engaged to her childhood nemesis, Oliver, at the end of the summer.

“Possibly next summer, but they’re still arguing about it. He wants sooner, she wants more time to plan.” April laughed and shook her head. “Those two get off on bickering, I swear to God. It’s like foreplay to them.”

I squinted. “Foreplay? What’s foreplay? I vaguely recall it might have something to do with sex, but . . .”

April’s eyes closed. “Tell me about it.”

“How about Meg? She’s back home for good now?” Our middle sister had been living in DC for years but had come home for Frannie’s wedding and promptly fallen head over heels for her old friend Noah, a sheriff’s deputy in town.

“Yep. She moved back right before Thanksgiving, and she appears to be going through the motions of looking for a place to live, but she and Noah seem pretty darn cozy in his house. I’ll be surprised if she ever moves out.” She sighed. “All three of our little sisters seem happy as can be.”

I heard the wistful tone in her voice. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone? Got a hot date for New Year’s Eve?”

She shook her head. “I wish, but no. I’ve just been working a lot.”

“Even in December?”

She shrugged. “Well, Mom and Dad were gone on their cruise for three weeks, so we all had to pitch in to cover. And there have been a ton of holiday parties this month. Chloe is running ragged trying to get the distillery going while still managing the tasting room and prepping to take over for Dad full time. The Christmas Eve party is coming up Tuesday, and the New Year’s Eve dinner is the following week. January will be a little break, at least, but we’ve got some corporate events. And in February, we’ll get busy again for Valentine’s Day and Presidents’ Weekend.”

“Sounds like you should hire some help.”

“It’s on my list. I’m actually interviewing someone right after the holidays, another event planner.”

“I can help out in the meantime.”

“I might take you up on that,” April said. “Or if you want to freeze your ass off in the vineyard, you can help Henry with the pruning.”

“Oh, that’s right. Pruning starts soon.”

“Twenty thousand acres, all done by hand.” April imitated Henry’s deep voice. “It’s an art form.”

I laughed. I didn’t know Henry all that well, but I knew he was very serious about his vines. “Poor Henry. Does it bother him that you guys tease him so much?”

“Nah.” She waved a hand in the air. “He’s like the honorary Sawyer brother—he can take it. And he knows we’re kidding.”

“Dad emailed me a link to a magazine article about him a few weeks ago. Like a 40 Under 40 Tastemakers in Wine kind of thing?”

April nodded happily. “Yeah, that was really cool! I was so thrilled for him. He’s so good at what he does.” Then she sighed. “And he needs the positivity these days. He’s going through a divorce too, did I tell you that?”

“Oh no, is he?” My heart ached a little in sympathy. “I remember him saying at Frannie’s wedding that he and his wife had separated. I was hoping it would work out.”

April shook her head. “I guess she’d already left and filed for divorce by then. He sort of hid it for a while. She moved to Chicago.”

“Was there someone else?”

She lifted her shoulders. “Henry just says they just grew apart, and I haven’t wanted to pry, but I think there’s more to the story.”

“How long were they married?” I tried to picture them together, but it had been a while—maybe a Cloverleigh Christmas party years ago? I remembered her as acting sort of quiet and sullen that night, in contrast to Henry’s easygoing, friendly personality.

“I’m not exactly sure. They were married when he took the job here, which was nine years ago, so at least that long. He seems okay day to day, but he works a lot. His truck is always there when I leave work late at night after a wedding.”

My heart went out to Henry. Maybe he was working constantly to distract himself, or to avoid going home alone. I understood that—there was nothing worse than the silence of an empty house.

“Well, all I want to do is drink wine these days,” I said with a sigh, “but I’ll get out there in the cold and prune vines if I must. I remember Dad making us learn how to do it when we were kids, and then we’d go in and chug gallons of hot chocolate afterward. Remember how Mom used to make it from scratch on the stove top? So good.”

April laughed. “Yeah, but this time we’ll spike it.”

Smiling, I clinked my glass against hers. “Sounds like a plan.”

Just after eight, April headed home to her condo in Traverse City and I took the private corridor that led from the inn’s lobby to my parents’ house. I found my kids wrapped in blankets on the couches in the family room with my dad watching It’s a Wonderful Life. My mother, of course, was cleaning up the cookie mess in the kitchen by herself.

“Let me help you,” I said, rolling up my sleeves. I inhaled the scent of cookies baking. “Mmmm, smells delicious.”

“Thank you, darling.” My mom cradled my cheek for a moment. “But aren’t you tired?”

“A little. But please don’t tell me I look it. I’m going to lose my mind if one more person tells me I look exhausted. Or skinny. Or worried. I’m working on all of it.”