1 Chapter 1

“Daddy, this one, this one!”

I turn from the shelf of knick-knacks I’ve been looking over to see my seven year old daughter holding what appears to be a very expensive snow globe in both hands. “Jenna, put that back.”

An irresistible pout tugs at her small mouth. “But Daddy, I like it.”

All too vividly, I can imagine the snow globe slipping out of her grip and crashing to the showroom floor. It probably costs as much as all the money I have in my wallet, which is supposed to last me until after the holidays. In the crash I see the end of Christmas for Jenna and myself—we’re already staying with my parents, eating their food, mooching off their hospitality. My mom might shrug dismissively and say it’s no problem, but at twenty-five, I should be on my own. On ourown.

And if Jenna wants a half-decent holiday, she needs to put that snow globe down now

“But Daddy,” she tries again, shaking the globe to swirl the snow inside, as if I might have somehow missed what it did. “Look how pretty it is!”

Quickly I cross the aisle and pluck the globe from her fingers. For one heart-stopping moment, I feel it slip from mygrip, and I half-juggle it back onto the shelf. A higher shelf, out of her reach. “No, honey,” I tell her once the globe is safe and out of our hands. “This is a bit more than we can afford. Remember what I told you?”

“Things will be tight until you start work,” she recites in a sing-song voice. “How many more days, Daddy? You said—”

“After Christmas.”

Technically, after New Year’s—the construction firm I signed on with is closed for two weeks over the holidays. I’d sent in my resume in early November, but it took them forever to get around to calling me for an interview. Then there was a second interview, since some of the business partners hadn’t made the first one. Then a third interview over Skype with members of their foreign headquarters—I’d begun to think maybe they were just jerking me around, not intending to offer the job. All this for a finance position? There was also a credit check, and a background check, and I had to explain away the recent dings on my credit report and the recent court papers Julia finally got around to filing. The day Jenna and I moved out of our Richmond home and in with my parents was the same day I received the divorce papers in the mail.

Now, my pouting daughter stares up wistfully at the snow globe and sighs. “That’s a whole two daysaway! Gramma would lovethat.”

I take Jenna’s small hand in mine and steer her towards a cheaper part of the store. “There’s a lot in here Gramma would love. Why don’t we find something we can afford?”

Jenna sighs again and picks up a ceramic bell decorated with a snowy scene. Not exactly a child’s toy, but at least it won’t break the bank if she drops it. I’d take her to the dollar store to shop for gifts if I didn’t think she’d spend all her allowance on herself.

After a moment, she rings the bell. “This is nice.”

“It is,” I agree. I’ve already glanced at the price—within my budget, even if she wants to buy two, one for each of her grandparents.

But she puts the bell back on the shelf and turns away. “Daddy…”

“What, Beanie?”

Jenna laughs. “Don’t callme that! I’m a big girl now.”

I bend down to tickle her ribs through the heavy winter coat she wears. “You’re still Beanie to me. My bigBeanie.”

“Daddy, stop!” She giggles and pulls away, already reaching for something else that’s caught her eye. A picture frame with a stock photo of a loving family in it—mom, dad, daughter. I feel a knot of dread tense in my stomach. Here it comes, another question about Jenna. Is Mommy coming home for Christmas?

How many times have I already told her no?

But her mother isn’t on her mind at the moment. Instead, the question she asks surprises me. “Are we poor?”

“What? No!” I kneel down so I’m eye level with her, and turn her towards me. The pout is back, and her dark brown eyes are so large, they eclipse her face. “Baby, Jenna, listen to me. We’re in a tight spot at the moment, okay? But it’ll be over soon, I promise. Once I start working—”

“How will Santa find us if we no longer live at home?” she asks, blinking back tears.

Sometimes I forget she’s only seven. “He knows where Gramma and Pop-Pop live,” I tell her. “Trust me, honey. Santa will find you.”

“But how?” she whines.