The entire house throbbed with light, heat, good smells, soft conversation, and laughter. The first toast was just her father lifting a tumbler with two fingers of spiced rum and saying This season we have much to be grateful for, my beloved daughter has returned to us, and everyone chiming in with Hear, hear or Amen or Jack’s soft At long last before taking a swig. Then Lev bent to his work behind a bank of sound equipment, a girl with soft brown hair gently pushing his hand away from a certain dial. Other toasts were called out, and the snacking began as carols and holiday music began to play at just the right volume. Groups of Kith—bright eyes, glossy hair, skin in every shade glowing with vitality—formed, broke, and reformed with soft regularity. Zoe was greeted over and over, and the
