They went. Aunt Philomena went last, looking back over her shoulder all the way, and the swinging door to the dining room swung shut behind her, and swung back open a crack, and stayed open a crack, and Gina knew without looking that there were three Castellanos pressed against the other side of it.
She and Graham stood in her mother's kitchen with the radio playing "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear."
"I brought your ornaments back," Graham said. "The birds. I didn't want—" He stopped. "And this. This is for you. It's not for Mr. Pruitt. There's no Mr. Pruitt. I made up Mr. Pruitt. I'm sorry. I'm very bad at lying, I think you know that, and I panicked, because I'd been planning it for days, and I wanted you to open it tonight and have it be—"
"I know," said Gina.
"—a surprise, and I thought if I just held out until Christmas Eve— What?"
"I know," Gina said again. "I went to Halloran's. Dot told me."
Graham closed his mouth.
"She told me what you said. About my father. About the hunt." Gina's voice was not steady, and she did not try to make it steady. "You were going to give it to me so I could give it away."