With nothing to be done after their improvised meal, the adults stayed around the kitchen table, hoping the children were behaving themselves bunked up together as they were, and not creating mischief, although a great part of that was ‘out of sight, out of mind’.

With some of Kaylee’s interengine fermentation finest doing the rounds, as well as a bottle of sake Mal produced from somewhere, the conversation had veered, quite naturally, to reminiscing about Christmases past.

“I was six,” Kaylee was saying. “I think that’s the first time I remember seeing snow. Pa’d taken us all into the mountains, to this old cabin he’d borrowed from one of my uncles, and it was colder’n anything I’d ever known before, but I didn’t care. That morning, seeing the snow outside, how it made everything look so ... new ... to me it didn’t matter if I got frostbite. Ma made us all dress up warmly as possible ‘fore she’d let us out of the door, though. And Pete found this old tin tray and we took it in turns to sledge down the hill. Then after we got ourselves all tuckered out, we came back in to find this feast on the table, and boxes done up in paper by our plates.” She sighed happily. “Got my first socket set that year.”

“A very appropriate gift,” Zoe commented.

“It still is,” Simon added, his mind on one of the gaily wrapped parcels waiting at the bottom of his drawer. He only hoped it was the one his beautiful wife had been dropping heavy hints about for weeks now. His eye caught River’s. She winked, and he relaxed a little.

“So you exchanged at dinner?” Hank asked Kaylee, wanting to get it clear.

“Uh-huh. Didn’t you?”

“Nope. We always gave our presents Christmas Eve. Gran dragged me to church, then after my soul had been saved for another year I got my reward.” He chuckled. “Usually a new pair of pants, since I’d worn the old ones out, and a book or two.”

“So that’s where your terrible taste in literature comes from,” Mal joked, pouring another round.

“It’s not that bad,” Hank said, defe