Chapter Twenty-Two
For an angel (or whatever name you give kindly supernatural beings who inspire human beings to do better than they might), Christmas is not special. In fact, the idea of a time when one is supposed to feel closer to God is actually somewhat blasphemous. What are you supposed to be doing the rest of the time? A better counterpart on your plane would be the California Highway Patrol. This is the time of year to be particularly watchful for drunks, hit-and-run criminals, and various other types of opportunistic scofflaw. Not that anyone at Willa’s Christmas party was truly dishonest.
On Christmas Eve, Bobbi offered to help Willa in the kitchen, where Sharon was already at work preparing a salad. Bobbi didn’t count cooking among her skills, and she loathed the task she dre
