THE FIRST THING she noticed that morning was the Christmas decorations. Walking the picturesque, sleepy block from the ba- gel place to her shop, Abby wondered how many little Oxnard elves it had taken to bring about the festive transformation since she d left work the evening be- fore. Someone in this small coastal town just north and a little west of Los Angeles had been way too busy. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. It wasn t even Thanksgiving yet, and smiling plastic Santas were flapping in the breeze. Perhaps they were fitting, those reminders of the upcoming holidays. They d appeared like magic-- but, then, people who believed in Santa Claus be- lieved in magic, and usually in dreams, too. Abby s dream was about to come true. It just wasn t her dream anymore. It never had been hers. It had always been their dream. She and her sisters. All three of them. Together. From the moment of their conception t~ ey d been together. Shared ev- erything. The dream had been no different. But the other two were gone now. One dead. And one so unreachable she almost felt dead to Abby. Two-thirds of the dream was dead.
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