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“Uh-huh.”

“But you’re changing the subject. Why did you ask if I’d take a job with Fourteener Sports? Do you not like being on our own?” It’s one of my biggest fears, that Willa quit her job to work with me more out of sisterly solidarity than a real desire to start something from scratch and build it together.

“No, I do. I love this project. But I’m not sure if I love the project or if I love the company. I just…I feel at home here.”

I nod. It doesn’t surprise me that Willa is drawn to Fourteener Sports and the We’re All Family Here vibe that everyone gives off, from Greta down to the janitors (who have worked here longer than Greta). Even before I blew up our family by being gay (my mother’s words, not mine) we didn’t have a particularly tight family unit. Ever since we left home, Willa has been searching for the family we lost. I’ve always been happy with just Willa. As much as she claims to the contrary, she misses our mother. The pre-Jesus version one, that is.

“If Greta offers you a job when this is over, you should take it,” I say.

“Only if it’s the two of us.”

“No, Willa. We might be a package deal personally, but professionally we should strike out on our own path if it’s a better opportunity. I know how much you’ve sacrificed for me. Nope.” I put a finger on Willa’s lips when she starts to speak. “You need to do what’s right for you, and only you.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “Cross that bridge later. Wait until you see the warehouse.” She puts her reindeer antlers on her head, and I put on my sequined rainbow Santa hat.

I can’t help a gasp of awe when we walk into the warehouse. The main aisle, which is usually full of forklifts moving pallets to and fro, is lined with booths built to look like a snow-covered European village. Each department has their own booth: food, crafts for kids, face painting, and midway games complete with prizes (of a much higher quality than the typical state fair midway junk), with the department Christmas tree beside each one, ready to be judged.

“How in the world did the warehouse get anything accomplished last week?”

“Honestly, I was here while they did it and I’m not sure. Everyone knows what needs to be done and does it. It’s a pretty well-oiled machine.”

At the end of the “street” is a gazebo with an enormous green wingback chair and a Christmas tree with what looks like a hundred presents piled under it. Greta and Toni stand in front of the gazebo with an older couple that can only be their parents and founders of Fourteener Sports.

“Audrey and Willa Adams, these are our parents, Piero and Ingrid Giordani,” Greta says.

“What a pleasure to meet you,” I say.

“We absolutely love your company,” Willa says.

“Thank you,” Ingrid says. “We’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you from Greta.”

“And Toni,” Piero says. “She couldn’t stop singing your praises, Audrey, for all the help you gave her putting her presentation together.”

“Greta was even impressed,” Ingrid says, “which is saying something, because she’s a hard nut to crack.”

“So I’ve learned,” Willa says.

Greta levels Willa with an expression we’ve come to know well over the last few weeks, part challenge, part amusement, and lately part triumph.

“Toni had all the ideas and did all the work. I was just a guiding hand. She created a solid, achievable ten-year plan,” I say.

Mom, Dad, and Greta laugh.

“If you can keep Toni from jumping in with both feet without thinking, then you’ll be a miracle worker,” Ingrid says.

“Jeez. I love you, too, guys,” Toni says.

“We wouldn’t be good parents if we didn’t tease you a little bit,” her dad says. “Keep you humble.”

“So, enough talking about how awesome Toni is. We have a problem,” Greta says. “Ned fell off a ladder replacing a fuse in his roof lights so he can’t be Kris Kringle.”

“I’m going to do it,” Toni says.

“Not you, Greta?” Willa asks.

“No, I don’t like kids enough,” Greta admits.

“You don’t like kids?” I ask.