He let out a groan.

Aunt Val’s yard sparkled with ice sculptures from porch to gate—Kat and Taison’s reindeer, Mom and Dad’s gleaming sleigh. Sarah’s big Christmas tree, blinking with lights. Cassie’s grinning garden gnome, with its pointy hat. Then came his own lump, squatting toadlike in the midst of it all.

“I told you it was too complicated,” he said. Suzanna ducked her head.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “I’ve built a million sandcastles down on the beach.”

“Yeah, out of sand. Beth, no, don’t—” Will buried his face in his hands as Beth raised her chisel. She tapped on a glassy tower, the one tower still standing. It cracked down the middle and fell in two lumps.

“Now it’s a cube,” Will said.

“We could slap some paint on it and call it a Rubik’s cube,” Suzanna suggested.

“Oh? You bring some paint?” He passed Suzanna a power drill. “Look, let’s do something simple. A candy cane archway. We might just pull that off in the time we’ve got left.”

Suzanna nodded, crestfallen. Will grabbed his own drill and set to work. This was his fault, when you got right down to it. He hadn’t intended to bring the twins here at all. But Suzanna had got to them, got them all fired up to help sculpt Santa’s castle. And Will—well, Will had disappointed them enough for one Christmas season. Bad enough he’d skipped their shopping trip and slept through Santa’s breakfast—yesterday’s “tantrum” had frightened poor Beth. Suzanna had soothed her, according to Ann—when he’d come home, the girls had been coloring, not a tear in sight—but that was his job. Suzanna taking over, even in small ways...what kind of hole would that leave when she went home?

“Can I try the drill?” Beth reached for it, eager. Will raised it higher, out of her reach.

“Too dangerous,” he said. “Why don’t you grab a hairdryer, start melting the middle?” He drew an X on the ice, where the arch would open up. “Right here, okay?”

Beth pulled a sour face, but she went to find a dryer. Will watched till she’d found one, in case she got a notion to grab a drill instead. Bringing the girls had been a mistake. The place was bristling with drill bits and sharp chunks of ice. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and why, why, why had he listened to Suzanna? Suzanna, who’d just drilled through the hook of their left candy cane?

“Uh, Suzanna? You might want to leave some there, or we’ll end up with—”

Suzanna looked up. Her drill skidded hard left. She screamed and dropped it, and clutched her hand to her chest. Blood spattered at her feet, bright Christmas red.

“Ow—ow—”

“You’re bleeding.” The twins crowded in on her, grabbing for her hand. Suzanna hid it from their sight, under her coat.

“I’m fine,” she gasped. “Just a...just a scratch. If someone has a Kleenex—”

“You need to sit down.” Sarah caught her arm and guided her to a chair. Suzanna plopped down on it, so hard it nearly toppled.

“Let me look at it,” said Mom. Suzanna just stared at her, eyes wide and shellshocked. Aunt Val bustled over, first aid kit in hand.

“I don’t see any fingers lying around the yard,” she said. “That means it’s not that bad. Now, come on, let’s—”

“Fingers?” Ann dropped to her knees, scrabbling in the snow. “Dad! Beth! Get over here. Help me find her fingers!”

“There’s no fingers...oh, for Pete’s sake.” Will threw up his hands. “Okay, girls, in the house. Ice sculpting is over. Get yourselves some cocoa.”

Beth and Ann exchanged glances. They stood silent a moment, tiny fists clenched. Then Beth let out a whimper, and they both began to wail.

“You said we could play,” howled Ann.

“You promised.” Beth’s scream rose higher, fit to shatter glass. Mom swept them both into her arms and hustled them away.

“Come on, you two—no tears, okay? I’ve got an idea for you, a special project. Sound fun?”

“Suzanna? You okay?” Sarah was leaning over her, reaching for her wounded hand. Suzanna had gone pale, and was trembling all over. Will could hear her teeth chattering from six feet away. He closed the distance between them and knelt in the snow.

“Hey...can I see it?”

Suzanna shot him a glazed look. “It’s all right,” she managed. “I’m keeping pressure on it, so...”

“That’s a good start,” said Aunt Val. “But you might need a bandage, or a stitch or two. You’re going to need to show us, so we can see if you’ll need a trip to the clinic.”