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Epilogue

Everyone was gathered in the kitchen. Fran stood like a general at the stove, barking out orders to Bea and Viola to plate food. Luca stood very close to Bea, who looked flushed. From the warmth of the kitchen or his attention? Portia wasn't sure.

Chloe and Imogen chatted about some actor as they collected flatware to set the table. Summer went to greet her friend Em and her fiancé Joe. Portia had met Em a few days before, when Summer had officially moved into the mansion.

Her mother did dishes at the sink, her lips curved into a blissful smile, which was a stranger sight than seeing the Countess of Amberlin washing dishes.

It was so different than Christmases in the past. When Father had been alive, the holiday season had always been quiet and dignified, not loud and boisterous. Portia pressed her back against the pantry door because it was the only place where she was out of the way. She bet even the Summerhill ghosts had fled the chatter.

The only people missing were Titania and Viola's husband. No one seemed to miss him. Or their father, for that matter.

She wasn't sure she did either. She looked around the room at the glowing faces and listened to the bright conversation, the cheerful laughter.

It struck her suddenly. This was her family.

It was so ridiculously obvious, yet it'd never occurred to her so strongly. She stared at her sisters and knew they'd be there for her, in whatever way she needed, because she was there for them, too. They'd plotted a crime, broken into a house, and helped Rosalind get together with Nick. She and her sisters were in it for life.

The knot in her chest relaxed. Whatever happened, however lost she felt, she could count on them, and that was the best gift ever. Touching her pearls, she blinked back tears-of happiness.

What would they do if she threw her arms around them in a big group hug? A soft laugh bubbled out of her imagining their expressions.

Fran looked over her shoulder with a scowl. "Portia, why aren't you helping? Imogen Summerhill, stop eating olives and set the table. Chloe, you and Summer help her, otherwise we'll be eating with our hands. Bea, be careful with the gravy."

"Move." Her oldest sister nudged Luca away from her with her hip. "You're in my way."

He stepped back, but he wrapped a hand around her hip. "Cara, I'm exactly where I belong."

Bea rolled her eyes while Viola chuckled.

"Where's Rosalind?" Fran asked. "She was in charge of wine."

Gigi snatched another olive as she sashayed to pick up the stacked plates on the counter. "She and Nick aren't back yet from the cellar. They're probably examining the labels very carefully."

"Is that what they're doing?" Smirking, Bea wiped her hands on the apron that protected her red silk dress, smacking Luca's hands away as he tried to help.

The Italian, apparently unfazed, smiled at her oldest sister like she'd given him a lusty kiss. "Cara, you wound me."

"Not yet, but keep it up and it'll be a definite probability."

"Someone should go check on Rosalind," Fran said.

Her niece Chloe made a face as she picked up the silverware to take into the dining room. "I wouldn't want to walk in on them."

"Me either." Summer lifted a tray of glassware. "They're always making out."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Summer's friend Em smiled warmly at her fiancé Joe, slipping her arm around his waist and burrowing into him. The light caught the enormous diamond on her engagement ring, almost like it winked at her statement.