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"Are you spending more of my money, Avery?" Dad's mock-warning baritone rang from the kitchen. His hearing was uncanny when it came to his finances.

"To promote familial bliss and strengthen the bond between your daughters," she called back.

His tone lightened. "Carry on. You know my Amex number."

I rolled my eyes. Dad's joking reply wasn't really a joke at all. Avery was welcome to punch in the numbers to his Platinum Card whenever she needed it, and she had no compunction about doing so. There was no other way she could have lived in comfort and safety in New York, especially when she was first settling in, and Mom and Dad were glad to supplement her wages even now that she was more established.

"Things were different in the eighties and nineties when your mother and I were your age and getting started. I'd rather you spend your inheritances now and get ahead while you're young. It'll pay better dividends in the long run." Dad had repeated some version of this mantra regularly in the days when Avery was still hesitant to accept the money he offered freely.

That same offer would have been open to me, but I could never bring myself to accept it. I'd not asked Mom and Dad for a penny since college, beyond a few very candid answers about what I wanted for birthdays and Christmas when I was first starting out and desperate. I was adamant that I wouldn't start asking for cash, no matter how bleak the ledgers were. On some level it would have felt like my accomplishments weren't my own.

I nudged Avery, who just finished photographing the nativity set from her seventh angle. "To turn the tables back on you, I could have easily picked you up from the airport. You didn't have to get a rental."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I have so many travel points, they basically gave it to me. And I like having a car of my own, you know?"

I saw the logic. The likelihood a friend from Denver or Boulder would summon her to dinner was almost guaranteed. And it wasn't bluster that she'd already climbed the ladder to the point where trips to Milan and Paris were regular occurrences for her, and she was savvy enough to put all the expenses on a credit card with all sorts of travel perks before submitting her receipts to her company for reimbursement. She could probably get me a ticket to New York without making a dent in her frequent-flyer miles, but it didn't change the principle of the thing.

"It's hard for her to get away," Dad chimed in, trying to take my side. "Now that Denver is a Michelin city, her client list is apt to start booming more than it is now."

He cast me his best "I got you" glance, and I returned a smile. The recent addition of Denver as a Michelin city couldn't help but be a boon to business. Chefs who struggled to stand out in New York or LA, where the dining scene was so established, might have a shot at being noticed in Denver, where the competition was growing but there was room for fresh blood. We'd already seen a few promising restaurants set up in the last year, and there was bound to be more.

Avery got to her feet, offered me a hand, and hoisted me to my feet. "Come on, it's not like you wouldn't be able to network while you're there. What if some amazing restaurant in the city was dying for just the thing one of your artisans produces? It could be the making of them. Think of your clients, Veronica."

"Heaven forbid the girl just goes for a few nice meals and a Broadway show or two." Mom sighed and gestured for us to come to the table and tuck in. The lasagna was tradition because it used to be something Mama could make in advance and freeze so she could focus her time preparing for the main meal on Christmas Day. But we grew to love it even more than her fancier dishes, so she made more of a fuss over it. As time went on and our Christmas Day meals grew more casual, she insisted on making the lasagna fresh on Christmas Eve with her own homemade pasta and marinara. The mozzarella she bought from the local pizzeria that made their own, and she always used plenty of fresh basil.

"You must be glad the holidays are finally here." Avery accepted a helping from Dad. "I bet the lead-up is chaos."

"For sure. From Halloween to New Year's Eve is insane, same as retail. People go out to do their holiday shopping and stop for lunch. They get tickets to The Nutcracker at the Performing Arts Center, so they make a night of it with a four-star dinner beforehand and dessert and drinks after. Of course, with all the boost in business, the restaurants want to bring their A game. And that's not even getting into the boutique gourmet shop demand. Everyone becomes Julia Child over the holidays. I only get a few days to breathe because I got my clients stocked up early for the last push today, and they're mostly all closed tomorrow. My January 2 is like Dad's April 16 used to be."

"The best day of the year." Dad lifted a glass, clearly without much nostalgia for the office.