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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