Chapter 8“That settles it,” Grace’s father, Stanley, stated as he pulled back the curtains on the living room. “It’s a White Christmas.”
The living room was suddenly illuminated with iridescent light. The tree in front of the bay window of her father’s house was a brand new artificial one; it didn’t need to be mended with half a roll of duct tape or only decorated with lightly weighted ornaments so the limbs were not strained or snapped off. This new one was darker green and fresh looking, almost realistic. It boasted more than tinsel and wooden toy soldiers on horseback for the decor, too. There were multi-coloured bobbles, white twinkling lights around its edge, and contained an array of stunning presents all neatly wrapped under the tree itself. Grace almost gasped with the beauty of t
