The Calma estate itself seemed overhung with an enchanted slumber. James, the butler, was the only person still awake. He knew both the Calvins had settled into a sleep saturated with the best meal of the year and the spirit of the day. Quietly mounting the stairs, he peered into Joseph Calvin’s room. Just as he suspected, the master had again fallen asleep with his reading glasses on. Removing them with the utmost care, James placed them on the nightstand, switched off the bedside lamp and left the room as quietly as he’d arrived. Downstairs in the den, James discovered Zackery quietly snoring before the last glow of a dying fire. Draping a throw across the young master, James turned out the table lamp. He decided to leave on the Christmas tree lights in case Zackery woke during the wee hours. Passing through the kitchen, James looked over the polished surfaces and clicked off all but the small table lamp by the phone, then left by the service entrance. Fog swirled over the stone path leading to his own cottage, which sent a welcoming glow into the dark chill.
