One year later, snow covered Chicago again.

Gideon stood inside the ballroom of the Vale Grand Hotel.

Hundreds of guests had gathered for the annual Christmas charity dinner.

This time, Gideon hadn't skipped it.

“Your tie is crooked.”

He looked down.

Norah stood in front of him wearing a green Christmas dress.

“It's not crooked.”

“It is.”

“I'm capable of dressing myself.”

Norah straightened it anyway.

“You're welcome.”

Gideon looked toward Elise.

“Your daughter has become extremely controlling.”

Elise smiled.

“Wonder where she learned that.”

Over the past year, Elise had rebuilt her life.

After testifying in Mercer's case, she'd accepted a senior compliance position with an independent hospitality company.

Gideon had offered her a job.

She'd refused.

He had respected her more for it.

Then she'd agreed to dinner.

One dinner became twelve.

Twelve became weekends.

And somehow Norah's drawings began appearing on Gideon's refrigerator.

Mr. Buttons acquired a permanent chair at Gideon's dining table.

Juniper's bedroom remained Juniper's.

But another bedroom down the hall became Norah's whenever she and Elise stayed over.

Nothing had been replaced.

Their lives had simply grown.

Dante approached carrying three glasses.

“Boss.”

“Problem?”

“Several.”

Gideon sighed.

“Christmas problems?”

“The worst kind.”

Norah took the microphone from the stage before anyone could stop her.

Gideon's eyes widened.

“What is she doing?”

Elise covered her mouth.

“Oh no.”

Norah tapped the microphone.

The ballroom quieted.

“Hi.”

Hundreds of people turned.

Norah waved.

“My name is Norah Harper.”

Gideon slowly closed his eyes.

“This is going badly.”

Dante whispered:

“I think it's going beautifully.”

Norah continued.

“Last Christmas, Gideon found me in the snow.”

The room became silent.

“I was waiting for my mama.”

Elise's eyes filled.

“And Gideon was sad because he missed his daughter Juniper.”

Gideon froze.

Norah looked directly at him.

“He thought Christmas was only about remembering people you lost.”

Gideon's throat tightened.

“But Mama says you can remember people and still love people who are here.”

Nobody moved.

Norah smiled.

“So this year we're not letting Gideon run away from his own Christmas party.”

Laughter moved through the ballroom.

Even Gideon laughed.

Norah raised her glass of sparkling cider.

“To Juniper.”

Gideon's eyes closed briefly.

The entire ballroom raised their glasses.

“To Juniper.”

Elise slipped her hand into Gideon's.

He looked at her.

“You knew about this?”

“Not all of it.”

“You're a terrible liar.”

“Occupational weakness.”

Norah ran from the stage.

Gideon caught her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, troublemaker.”

She whispered:

“I have something for you.”

“What?”

Norah handed him a small package.

Inside was a new stuffed rabbit.

Black.

Wearing a tiny suit.

Gideon stared at it.

Norah explained proudly:

“That's Mr. Buttons' bodyguard.”

Dante burst out laughing.

Gideon looked at Elise.

“You encouraged this.”

“Absolutely.”

Norah pointed at the rabbit.

“His name is Mr. Vale.”

Gideon shook his head.

“I've lost control of this family.”

The word came out before he realized it.

Family.

Elise heard it.

So did Norah.

Norah smiled.

“Yep.”

Later that evening, they walked through the same park where Gideon had found her.

Snow fell gently beneath blue Christmas lights.

The bench was still there.

Norah ran toward it.

“Look!”

Gideon stopped beside Elise.

Norah brushed snow from the bench and placed Mr. Buttons beside her.

Gideon looked at the spot where he'd once found a freezing child.

Elise squeezed his hand.

“You saved her life.”

Gideon shook his head.

“No.”

Elise looked at him.

“She saved mine.”

Norah called from the bench.

“Are you two coming?”

Gideon raised his voice.

“Yes.”

“Walk faster!”

He looked at Elise.

“Still bossy.”

“Still wondering where she learned it?”

Gideon smiled.

They walked toward Norah together.

Three years earlier, Gideon had believed the happiest part of his life had been buried with his daughter.

He had been wrong.

Grief hadn't disappeared.

Juniper's photograph still stood beside his bed.

Her ornaments still hung on his Christmas tree.

Her name was still spoken.

But now it was spoken beside laughter.

Norah suddenly ran back and grabbed Gideon's tattooed hand.

“Come on.”

He let her pull him toward the Christmas lights.

Mr. Buttons bounced beneath her other arm.

Elise followed beside them.

And beneath the falling Chicago snow, Gideon finally understood something power had never taught him.

Protecting people wasn't the same as loving them.

Power could build walls.

Fear could keep enemies away.

Money could buy almost anything.

But family?

Family began when someone reached for your hand—

and you decided not to let go.

Norah looked up.

“Gideon?”

“Yeah?”

“Next Christmas, can we get a dog?”

Gideon stopped.

Elise immediately said:

“Absolutely not.”

Norah looked between them.

“You two always say no before thinking.”

Gideon smiled.

“I'll think about it.”

Elise stared at him.

“Gideon.”

Norah gasped.

“That means yes!”

She sprinted toward the lights.

“IT MEANS YES!”

“It absolutely does not!” Gideon called.

Norah's laughter filled the snowy park.

Elise leaned against him.

“You realize she's going to win.”

Gideon watched Norah dancing beneath the Christmas lights.

For once, losing didn't bother him.

He wrapped an arm around Elise.

“I know.”

And for the first time in years, Gideon Vale wasn't waiting for Christmas to end.

He was already looking forward to the next one.