“Go ahead, Melody,” I heard myself say, my voice steady even though my hands were shaking. “Show everyone what Aunt Jessica did.”

The room held its breath, and Christmas morning would never be the same again.

The smell of cinnamon rolls filled my parents’ house that Christmas morning, the same recipe my mother had been making since I was Melody’s age. It was barely 7:00 a.m., but Tyler had already been awake for two hours, practically vibrating with excitement.