Misty winked at her and said, “I know,” but didn’t offer anything else. What could she say? Josie was hopelessly, notoriously incompetent in the kitchen. Give her the simplest task and she’d find a way to screw it up—even when she followed the instructions. As a detective for the small Central Pennsylvania city of Denton, Josie had faced down and outwitted some of the most savage and cunning killers on the planet. But she couldn’t make popcorn.
With a shrug, Josie turned away and went to the next room. She pulled up short in the foyer, staring into the living room. Multicolored lights from the small Christmas tree she and Noah had put up—mostly for the sake of Harris—sparkled, casting a festive glow over the room. Her family was crowded on and around her couch across from the large television. Her biological family: mother and father, Shannon and Christian Payne; brother, Patrick Payne and his girlfriend, Brenna; Josie’s twin sister, Trinity Payne. Josie felt a swell inside her—part pain, part gratitude. When she and Trinity were only three weeks old, a vile human being had set their family home on fire and kidnapped Josie. For thirty years, the Paynes believed that Josie perished in the fire. During that time, Josie’s kidnapper had abused her and then eventually discarded her, leaving her in the care of a woman named Lisette Matson. Both Josie and Lisette had had every reason to believe that Lisette was Josie’s grandmother—until she and Lisette learned about the Paynes and Josie’s true identity was revealed. Still, Lisette had raised Josie, had been everything to Josie. Her anchor and north star. Her one and only source of unconditional love and stability in a life that had sought to crush her at every turn.
Now, Lisette was missing from this family gathering. Gone forever. Murdered eight months earlier before Josie’s eyes. A tickle scratched at the back of Josie’s throat, the precursor to tears. Now was not the time. She wished her husband, Noah, was home but he, too, worked for the Denton Police Department as a lieutenant, and their schedules often conflicted.
Harris was nestled between Shannon and Trinity in the center of the couch, watching the television expectantly. A trailer for a piece that was set to appear on the next morning’s national news show played. Harris pointed to the older man on screen talking about how he turned his life around through his faith. “Look,” he said. “It’s the God guy.”
Trinity laughed. “The God guy?”
Shannon said, “That’s Thatcher Toland. He’s got that megachurch they’re building just outside of Denton.”
Christian added, “He bought that old hockey stadium—used to belong to the Philadelphia Flyers’ farm team until they moved. It was sitting abandoned for years. Apparently, he’s rehabbing it and turning it into a church.”
“It’s made traffic in East Denton an absolute nightmare,” said Patrick. “They’re constantly bringing in construction equipment and supplies. They claim it will open on Christmas Eve. I hope it does, ’cause when I come back for next semester I don’t want to have to deal with that mess.”
Shannon said, “He just wrote a book. I haven’t heard the end of it from my next-door neighbor. I think she expects us to join the church when the new place is done.”
“The God guy is on TV all the time,” said Harris, dragging out the words “all the time” and rolling his eyes.
“I know who he is, Mom,” said Trinity, laughing at Harris’s antics. “If I was still a morning news anchor, I’d be the one doing that interview.”
“Is it almost time for your show?” Harris asked.
Trinity checked her phone. “Five more minutes. But Harris, this is a grown-up show. Did your mom give you permission to watch it?”
“But you’re in it,” he said. “And I know you.”
Trinity laughed. “Yes, I’m in it. But it has very grown-up themes—things—in it.”
“But it’s your show, so can’t you say whether I watch it or not?”
“No,” Trinity said patiently. “Only your mom can make that decision.”
He jumped up. “I’m gonna ask her!” Running toward the kitchen, he suddenly stopped where Josie stood in the doorway. Trout’s little bottom wiggled, his tongue lolling as he watched Harris. “Aunt JoJo,” Harris said. “Since Gramma Lisette is in heaven, shouldn’t we put her vase on the table so she can see Aunt Trinity’s show, too?”
Josie’s entire body went still. The conversations in the living room ceased. All she could hear was Misty moving around in the kitchen. The whir of the microwave. The low hum of the television. Trout whined.
Shannon jumped up from the couch. “Harris, I think that’s a great idea. I’m sure Aunt JoJo would be fine with that. Right? JoJo?”
Josie knew her mother’s eyes were boring into her but all she could see was the gleam of Lisette’s silver urn on a bookshelf across the room. She sensed Trinity at her side, felt her sister’s hand on her forearm. “Josie,” she whispered. “You okay?”
Josie tore her gaze from the urn and looked at Harris’s hopeful little face. As always, she was rendered speechless by the way Harris saw the world. One of the worst parts about grieving for Lisette was Josie’s fear that one day she would be nothing more than a collection of memories. Something old, dusty, and irrelevant that you kept under your bed and never spoke about. Harris, in his innocent way, was keeping her alive, keeping her present before Josie’s eyes. In her mind, Josie saw Lisette’s mischievous smile, heard her giggle; heard her voice as sure as if she were standing next to her. “I’d like to see the show, too, you know.”
Josie’s feet carried her across the room. She picked up the urn, struck by the fact that this was all that was left of her vibrant, vivacious grandmother—a shiny vessel of ashes. She’d lost many hours to these thoughts. The last eight months had been the hardest of Josie’s life. Turning back, she managed a smile for Harris. “Gramma Lisette would have loved this,” she told him.
Christian and Patrick made room in the center of the coffee table and Josie set the urn there. The flickering lights of the television bounced off its gleaming surface as did the ones from the tree. Misty appeared in the foyer with a bowl of perfectly popped popcorn in each hand. “It’s almost time,” said Shannon.
Harris said, “Mommy, can I watch the show with the grown-ups?”
“Sure, sweetheart,” Misty said. Lowering her voice, she looked at Josie and said, “Only because he’ll be asleep in ten minutes.”