Zelda had spent much of Christmas at Evander and Caroline's before, almost-gleefully, taking her children to her father's for Hanukkah. Because despite her desire for a small family, Hanukkah in a loud house with all or almost all of her family felt more like a holiday than a roast at Evander's ever would. (She suspected that it was rude that she had left with her children before night fell. If Evander complained, she had half a mind to make him build a sukkah with her for Sukkot.)

That hadn't even been Hanukkah's last day, and now she felt all holiday'd-out, warm and pleased even though Alfred was still underway. She was thinking about all the ways she was going to describe tonight to Alfred — she wished that she could send him sufganiyot but was going to have to settle for describing the way the tart jelly had burst on her tongue, and the way that Carina had gotten jelly all over her face and hands and then gotten it in Brannon's beard — when Ari answered one of their other siblings.

Zelda refocused on him, and blinked at her brother. "You're not?" she asked, tone obviously quizzical. Ari had worked at the hospital for most of her life — it felt impossible for him to be leaving.