Someone coughed behind her. Emily’s mother loomed in the doorway, her hands clasped at her waist. She glanced at the empty trays of cookie sheets Emily had ready next to the oven.
“Want to help?” Emily asked, avoiding eye contact. She and her mom hadn’t really spoken since Emily had lashed out at her in front of everyone at the sting last night. Emily knew she should apologize, but she didn’t really know what to say. She’d meant every word. Why should she take it back?
Mrs. Fields didn’t answer, settling stiffly into a kitchen chair and making a big deal out of examining a loose thread on one of the place mats, which was printed with a chicken wearing a holly wreath on its head. Emily rolled out the dough, feeling more and more uncomfortable.
Finally, her mother let out a sigh. “You were right, you know.”
Emily’s head whipped up. “Pardon?”
“What you said last night about the baby Jesus.” Her mother chewed on a thumbnail. “Maybe I have lost sight of things. Maybe it was crazy to want the baby Jesus back just so I could sell it to buy gifts. It’s just . . . I wanted Christmas to be extra-special this year. Because of everything we’ve all been through. Because of you and that A girl. Because of Alison.”
When she looked up, her eyes were wet, which made Emily tear up, too. “I know how much she meant to you,” Mrs. Fields said in a choked voice. “I know how hard it’s been to accept she was . . .” She trailed off, not daring to say the word murdered. “And the thought that it was someone we knew, someone so close to all you girls . . . I couldn’t bear the idea that it could have been you instead. Your dad and I are just so grateful that you’re here. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”
Emily moved from the counter to the seat next to her mother and placed her hand lightly on her wrist. “I don’t need a ton of gifts to understand that,” she said gently. “All you have to do is say it.”
“I know.” Mrs. Fields rested her head on Emily’s shoulder. Emily shut her eyes and thought about how Ali’s murder must have affected every parent in Rosewood. It had probably been terrifying for them. But in other ways, maybe Ali’s death could bring parents and kids closer. Maybe it could help those who were still alive.
“I’m sorry I got you into that Santa mess,” Mrs. Fields murmured. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“Actually I’m glad you did,” Emily muttered, suddenly feeling drained. “It was kind of fun. And even though you won’t believe this, they were nice girls.”
She wondered what the elves were doing right now—Mrs. Meriwether had mentioned that she had also found all new elves for Santa Land, too. Were they lounging at home right now? Trying to connect with their distant and disjointed families? Suddenly, Emily felt a little sorry for them. Their problems were larger than life. Sophie was flunking out of Yale. Lola’s brother was an addict. They still had to find a way to deal with all of those things.
Her mother blotted her tears with a napkin, stood, and shuffled out of the room with her head down, just like she always did when she’d shown a little too much emotion.
Emily returned to her Christmas cookies, feeling a lot better. When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and padded through the living room to answer it. Four shadowy heads shifted back and forth through the sidelight. Emily drew in a breath—the elves.
Swallowing hard, she pulled open the door, making the jingle bells on the knob rattle. The four girls on the porch eyed her. None of them were smiling. Emily’s heart began to thud in her chest.
“We know what you did,” Cassie said in a wooden voice.
Emily’s throat felt dry. “I know you know,” she said. “But it wasn’t like that. I really wasn’t part of the sting. I swear.”
The four girls continued to glare. Emily was sure they could hear her galloping heart. She was about to apologize again, but then Cassie burst out laughing, lunged forward, and wrapped Emily in a huge hug. Heather circled her arms around Emily, and then Lola and Sophie joined in, too. Emily remained stiff for a few moments, and then tentatively squeezed back.
“We know it was you who got us free,” Cassie said. “We saw you through the window talking to O’Neal. But how did you do it?”
Emily pulled away and blinked hard. So much for remaining anonymous. “He was the stripper we saw in the window that night,” she said shakily. “I had pictures.”
The elves exchanged a glance, and then all of them gave her high fives. “You’re a badass, Santa,” Heather said. “O’Neal let us out without even a fine. The only thing we had to do was clean up the country club this morning and put the gifts back under the tree.”