The babies have put cookies out for Santa. The key is under the mat. She sent it, feeling nervous. But Seagal had seemed so strange when he left. She knew something had been on his mind. Cop stuff was always on his mind. But she knew she was on his mind, too. Capri knelt beside the tree, rearranged some of the gifts people had brought for the babies and for her and Seagal. The stockings were full of tiny baby socks and rattles, and well wishes from friends. Her mother had come by with a carload of gifts—and a letter from her grandmother written to Capri when she was a child, and saved by her mother for the right time. Dear Capri, What a wonderful granddaughter you are! So headstrong and stubborn—these are gifts—and beautiful and wise. You remind me so much of myself at your age. I love that you come on Saturdays and work in the shop. I hope you’ll always want to spend time with me, because you mean so much to me.
