Deborah calls just before dinner on Christmas Eve asking to speak to mom. Aunt Grace passes the phone to her and mouths to me ‘Deborah’ questioningly. I mouth back, ‘Yes, Scott’s mom.’ Her eyebrows shoot up as she mouths back in acknowledgment, ‘Oh!’ We sit on the sofa together watching mom intently as she listens to Deborah.

Aunt Grace whispers to me, “It doesn’t look like she’s just wishing your mother a Merry Christmas, something is wrong.”

“How can you tell?” I ask.

“Look at your mother’s expression. She’s dying to get off the phone and tell us, I know that look anywhere.”

Mom looks up at me covering the...