Previously…
– Molly found herself pregnant after her night of passion with Brent, but he maintained that he still loves Claire.
– Jason’s lawsuit for custody of Peter was thrown out after he punched Spencer.
– Tori blamed her father for the car accident that caused the death of her and Zane’s unborn child. In the aftermath, the grieving young woman reunited with Zane while she pushed her parents away.
– Diane discovered that the locket she’d received from Therese DeLuca’s sister was identical to one that her late father, Henry, had possessed.

“I can’t believe there are so many!”

“We might have overdone it,” Paula Fisher says with a chuckle as she and her granddaughter place the trays of Christmas cookies on the wooden sideboard in her dining room. Christmas trees, wreaths, and Santa Clauses have been covered with white, red, and green royal icing and decorated with colorful sprinkles. Bing Crosby’s melancholy rendition of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” plays from the new smart TV that Paula’s son, Tim, surprised her with this Christmas.

“The ones I made are the best!” Sophie Fisher declares after setting down the tray of cookies that she carried in from the kitchen. She and her younger cousin stand on their tiptoes to study the assortment of cookies.

“Billy, you did a terrific job, too,” Paula says softly. “Sophie, it isn’t a competition.”

The little girl, whose preteen sass has only exaggerated the attitude that has been there her entire life, plants her hands on her hips.

“Grandma, everything’s a competition,” she states matter-of-factly.

“I don’t think that’s exactly how the Christmas spirit works.” Paula adjusts the trays of cookies on the sideboard. “The point is that we all spent time together making them for our guests. And they’re all going to be delicious.”

“See?” Billy says, but Sophie’s only response is an exaggerated eye-roll.

“Now that’s what I call a batch of Christmas cookies,” Paula’s youngest son, Jason, announces as he enters from the living room. He takes in the sheer volume of them. “Are you guys sure you made enough?”

“We probably got a bit carried away,” Paula says as she wipes her hands on the front of her red-and-green apron. “But it’s Christmas. And in only a few hours, this house is going to be full of hungry people, anyway.”

“It smells incredible in here,” Jason says, looking through the dining room toward the kitchen, where at least 20 pounds of prime rib are slowly roasting. “Can’t wait for dinner. But…” 

“But what?” Sophie demands of her father.

“I have a quick errand to run. Mom, would you mind keeping an eye on Sophie for an hour or so?”

“An errand? On Christmas Day?” Paula asks.

“Did you forget to get one of my presents?” Sophie chimes in, eyes suddenly alight with excitement.

Jason laughs as he shakes his head. “I think you opened more than enough presents this morning. No, I just have to– there’s something I need to take care of.” The seriousness of his expression tells his mother that this is more than some casual lark.

“Of course,” Paula says as she gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Go do whatever you have to do. Sophie and Billy are going to help me set the table.”

“Thank you,” Jason says gratefully. “Soph, be good for Grandma, please.”

“Grandma, can we use Halloween decorations for the dinner table?” Sophie asks. “Think about everyone getting here for Christmas and seeing skeletons and witches and ghosts!”

Paula and Jason exchange an exasperated, if amused, look.

“I think we’re going to keep things fairly traditional this year,” Paula says. “We’ll see you for dinner, Jason.”

“Great. Thanks,” he says as he moves through the living room toward the front door, grabbing his coat from a nearby hook before exiting the house.

“Not even one ghost?!” Sophie asks her grandmother.

Paula laughs again as she shakes her head and motions for the kids to follow her.

“I’ll be home for Christmas… you can plan on me,” Bing Crosby’s voice sings wistfully from the living room.

A lightbulb flickers overhead, creating a decidedly less-than-festive vibe in the hallway of the apartment building.

“I hate that she’s living in a place like this,” Sarah Fisher Gray says as she glances around the space. Everything about it — the worn carpet, the cracking paint, the rattling window at the end of the corridor — is in desperate need of repair, creating a general air of seediness.

By her side, her husband nods in agreement.

“But she is, and we said we weren’t gonna criticize anything today,” Matt reminds Sarah quietly. “Let’s try and patch things up first. Phase two can be getting her out of this dump.”

“I just worry about what goes on here,” Sarah says, but she nevertheless swallows her concerns and knocks on the door.

Mere moments later, they hear the deadbolt being unlatched, and the door creaks open. Zane Tanaka looks back at them with surprise.

“Merry Christmas, Zane,” Sarah says.

“Merry Christmas,” Matt says as he holds out the large box, wrapped in white and silver.

“What are you guys doing here?” Zane asks warily.

“We wanted to drop this off.” Matt extends the package to his daughter’s boyfriend.

Zane’s gaze jumps from their faces to the box and back up again. “What is it?”

“It’s a genuine gift,” Sarah tells him. “Nothing more. We wanted you and Tori to have it.”

With a creased brow and tentative hands, Zane takes the box from Matt.

“Is Tori home?” Sarah asks.

Over the top of the gift, Zane’s mouth flaps open, but before he can utter an excuse, Tori Gray appears in the doorway behind him. She stares at them uneasily.

“Merry Christmas,” Matt says. His voice catches slightly in his throat at this all-too-rare face-to-face encounter with his daughter.

Tori merely stares back at them stone-faced.

“Those are cute sweaters,” Sarah says, pointing to the matching red tops with reindeer and holly on them.

“We thought it’d be fun to wear them together for Christmas dinner,” Tori says.

Sarah immediately latches onto the opportunity for conversation. “What are you guys doing for Christmas dinner?”

“We’re cooking,” Zane tells them. “Keeping it pretty chill.”

It pains Sarah to see Tori hovering behind Zane, eyeing her parents with skepticism, rather than coming forward to give them hugs — even more so because it is a holiday.

“Glad you have some plans,” Matt says.

“Are you?” Tori responds, a sharp edge to her voice.

“Yes,” Sarah says firmly. “What we want most is for you to be happy, Tori. Your dad and I — we genuinely mean that.”

Tori shakes her head. “Is that what you wanted when you lied to me for months, Mom? Or when you tricked Zane and I into signing the adoption papers so you could get your way, Dad?”

Matt places a hand on Sarah’s arm to remind her to stay calm, not to get too heated. Just like they discussed before coming here.

“We want to say how sorry we are. Again,” Matt says. “And to wish you guys a merry Christmas. That’s it.”

“There’s a whole bunch of stuff in that box that we thought you could use for the apartment,” Sarah adds. “We wanted you to have it, and to know that if you need anything– your dad and I are always here for you.”

Tori remains tight-lipped, although Sarah is certain that she can see a glimmer of vulnerability, of openness, in her daughter’s eyes.

“We’re genuinely sorry about everything that happened,” Sarah says, “and how it all led to your car accident.”

“A car accident that killed our baby,” Zane, still holding the wrapped box, says roughly.

“We wish we could go back and change that, but we can’t,” Matt says. “What we can change — all of us — is what happens next.”

“Billy missed you this morning,” Sarah says, and this time, she can see that the mention of her little brother does affect Tori.

“He got my present, right?” Tori asks.

Sarah nods. “But it wasn’t the same as having his big sister there on Christmas morning.”

“Don’t try to use Billy to guilt her,” Zane says.

After forcing herself to take a deep breath through her nose, Sarah simply tells them, “We won’t. We aren’t. But our door is open any time you want to see him.”

She reaches down and squeezes Matt’s hand, giving him the signal that they discussed earlier.

“And we hope you guys like the presents,” he says. “And that you have a good Christmas dinner.”

“Merry Christmas,” Sarah says, raising her free hand in a wave. Then she and Matt turn together and walk back down the shabby hallway to the elevator.

“Mom. Dad,” Tori calls out from the still-open door of the apartment.

Sarah and Matt turn back.

“Merry Christmas,” Tori says, staring at them for a long moment before Zane closes the door.

Only once they are back in the small elevator do Sarah and Matt speak again.

“That could’ve been worse,” Matt says, though his tone suggests otherwise.

“Like we said before,” Sarah replies, “slow and steady wins the race. We aren’t going to be able to force her to dump that loser and move on with her life — but if we can get her to accept us again, then maybe we have a chance of turning this whole thing around.”

Matt wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer. “I really hope so.”

The black Mercedes pulls to a stop outside the expansive, new-construction home. Sparkling white lights line its borders and the garages, and a lush green wreath hangs on the front door.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to spend two holidays here this year,” Diane Bishop grumbles as she turns off the engine.  

“You’re doing it for Bree and for me,” Samantha Fisher reminds her from the passenger seat.

Diane unclips her seatbelt and looks over at her daughter. “Remind me of that if it looks like I’m about to hurl any wine at my sister or my mother.”

The two women step out of the Mercedes. Diane retrieves a bottle of champagne and the berry crumble, which she bought from an upscale bakery by the waterfront, from the backseat.

“Besides,” Samantha says, “it might be a good opportunity for you to ask Grandma about those lockets.”

Diane stops mid-motion by the open car door.

“You are not to mention that today,” she warns Samantha.

“I still don’t understand the need for all the secrecy.” Samantha pushes her glasses up on her nose. “That lady in Ohio told you to ask Grandma about the locket she gave you.”

“And if you actually expect your grandmother to be forthcoming about any of it, you haven’t been paying attention for the past few decades.”

“Do you think she doesn’t want to talk about it because Grandpa and that Therese lady had matching lockets?”

“That’d be my guess,” Diane says. “She almost bit my head off the first time I mentioned the name ‘Therese.’ If she knew I hired a P.I. and flew to Ohio to find her…”

“She probably hates her because Grandpa had some kind of— relationship with that lady. Maybe that’s all it is.”

“Probably. But I don’t want to give her the chance to keep me from finding out the truth… and as soon as she’s tipped off, that’s exactly what she’ll do. So if you want to give me an extra Christmas present, please just pretend you know nothing about Therese DeLuca or those lockets.”

Diane closes the car door for emphasis.

“I promise,” Samantha says. “And promise me: no wine-throwing.”

With a resigned sigh, Diane says, “Fine, fine. I promise.” The two women start toward the house.

“I almost hate to cover this up, it’s so beautiful,” Tempest Banks says giddily as she stares down at the baking dish.

“It does look incredible,” Claire Fisher says. “I can’t wait to eat it.”

Nevertheless, Tempest stretches a sheet of aluminum foil over the crisp, browned top of the mac-and-cheese that she made for Christmas dinner.

“I’ve gotta say, I snapped a little on this one,” Tempest comments in a sing-song voice as she cuts the foil. It crackles as its edges are sealed around the baking dish.

“I’m sure everyone at Brent’s is going to enjoy it.”

Claire stops in front of a mirror in the living room of their apartment to smooth out her black dress. It is simple but elegant, with a scoop neck and a three-quarter sleeve. She has accessorized it with a gold necklace and matching earrings.

“And look at you, miss,” Tempest says as she watches Claire fiddle with the dress. “I didn’t know we were going so fancy today!”

Frowning, Claire turns toward her. “Is it too much?”

“Too much? Nah. You look good as hell. But I–” Tempest stops mid-statement, and her eyes grow wider. “I know what this is about!”

Claire blushes. “What?”

“He’s gonna do it today, isn’t he?” Tempest rushes around the kitchen counter toward the woman who took her in years ago, the woman who has become a mother figure and a friend to her. “Brent’s finally gonna give you that ring!”

“I don’t know. I have no idea.” Claire glances back at herself in the mirror. “I just thought… he’s made a few comments, and I know he has that ring, even if he doesn’t know that I know…” 

“He’s gonna do it. He’s so gonna do it!”

Claire hesitates for another moment before admitting, “I really hope that’s the present he said he wanted to give me today.”

“Then let’s get our asses over there,” Tempest says. “Let me get my coat, and we’ll grab that mac-and-cheese, and we’re hitting the road.”

As Tempest darts off to her bedroom, Claire grins to herself, hardly able to believe that her dreams could be coming true today.

The cold December air flows into the house as Brent Taylor gives each of his sons a loving pat on the back.

“Merry Christmas, you two,” he tells them.

“Can I help with anything?” Christian asks, while Caleb holds onto his Nintendo Switch, looking like he is just waiting for the moment when he can sneak off to a quiet corner to play.

“I’m putting you two in charge of setting the table,” Brent says.

Caleb groans but wordlessly trudges off, with Christian following behind him.

“Be good for your dad,” Molly Taylor calls to her sons from her spot on the front porch. She waits until the twins have vanished into the depths of the house before asking, “Are Danielle and your dad here yet?”

Now that they are alone, Brent regards her with a quiet seriousness.

“Danielle texted me a few minutes ago. They should be heading over from the hotel soon,” he says.

“I was hoping to catch them,” Molly says.

“You’re welcome to hang out until they get here.”

“Thanks.”

The weight of things unspoken hangs between them.

“Is Claire here yet?” Molly finally asks.

Brent’s facial features tighten. “Molly…”

The tone of his voice and the graveness of his demeanor send a chill through Molly. Her hand drops to her stomach, though she just as quickly moves it away. She couldn’t have imagined any of this — not their unexpected night together and confession of love, nor Brent’s indecision and coldness since. And certainly not her resulting pregnancy.

“You know what? I have to get back home and get ready to go to my mom’s,” she says suddenly. “I’ll catch up with Danielle before she leaves town. Merry Christmas, Brent.”

“Merry Christmas,” he says sadly as Molly rushes back to her car.

Jason parks at the curb behind the black Mercedes and pops the trunk of his car. He stares down at the red wrapping paper and white bow for several seconds, wondering if he is making a mistake — but he knows that this is the right thing to do, as painful as it might be. After taking a deep breath for courage, he picks up the present, locks the car, and begins walking toward the house.

He can hear the faint sounds of Christmas music and conversation from within before he rings the doorbell. It all gives him another moment of pause. But he thinks back to many Christmases ago, to a day when he made a pivotal decision in order to make his daughter’s life better, and that memory convinces him to ring the bell.

When the door whips open, Jason sees his nephew’s face go from pleasant to hostile within the space of an instant.

“What do you want?” Spencer Ragan asks, though it is more an accusation than a question.

“I come in peace. I promise.” Jason holds out the present. “This is for Peter.”

Spencer wedges himself between the door and the frame, effectively blocking Jason from seeing into the house. All he can really make out is Michael Bublé’s voice coming through the Sonos speaker system.

“I only want to wish Peter a merry Christmas and give this to him,” Jason says.

“This isn’t a good time.”

“It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah. We have people over. Shouldn’t you be with Sophie?”

Jason sets his jaw. As much as Spencer’s smugness irritates him, he knows that he doesn’t have a leg to stand on right now and needs to play nice.

“She’s with her grandparents and cousins,” Jason says.

“What’s going on?” Natalie Bishop asks as she comes up behind Spencer.

“He wants to see Peter,” Spencer says over his shoulder.

Jason holds out the present. “I want to give him this. I ordered it a few months ago, and– he should have it.”

Natalie and Spencer look at one another suspiciously.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Jason continues. “And actually — I need to talk to the two of you, too.”

“We’re not going to fight with you about Peter or the custody case or whatever insane theory you have,” Natalie says. “Not on Christmas.”

“Not ever,” Spencer adds sternly. “You lost that right when you decked me, Jason.”

Biting his tongue, Jason pauses before he is able to issue a more level-headed response.

“Over a decade ago, I lost my wife because of a senseless, insane attack,” he says. “And I spiraled afterward. I shut out my family. And it wasn’t good for Sophie. It took me a long time to get back on track… and as crazy as it is to admit now, a lot of that was because of you.” He gives Natalie a meaningful look.

“I did care about you, Jason,” she says.

He nods solemnly. Deep down, he knows it is true, but the pain and damage that Natalie has caused is too severe for him to think about their time together with any sort of fondness.

“And a big part of that was forgiving Helen for the things she did when she thought I wasn’t capable of caring for Sophie,” he continues. “I was so angry that I didn’t want to — I wanted to cut her out of my daughter’s life for good. But I had a…” He stops again, having gone over this part in his mind so many times. He knows that it will sound crazy to claim that Courtney appeared to him, visited him, and guided him to the right decision, but that is exactly what happened — or at least how it felt. “I had a realization on Christmas Day, so I went to Helen and Don and promised to drop the charges against her so that they could be a part of Sophie’s life in some capacity. As difficult as it was, I knew that it was the right thing to do. The only thing that would really allow everyone to heal. And it took some time, but it worked.”

“I don’t know if I’d call Helen healed,” Natalie remarks caustically. 

“Her daughter was murdered in cold blood,” Jason says. “And that isn’t my point. I had to let go and– and embrace the uncertainty of whatever the future might bring in order to have a fresh start. For me and for Sophie. So that’s what I’m doing now.”

He extends the gift to them.

“Please give this to Peter for me,” he says. “They’re beginner hockey skates. I always thought I’d take him on the ice for the first time, teach him to love it. Maybe I’ll still have the chance. But I understand that can only happen if we all start to move on.”

Natalie elbows Spencer. “Take it.”

Hesitantly, Spencer takes the box from Jason’s hands.

“I’m not going to forget how this custody case played out, and I’m not going to forgive whoever drugged Alex and me,” Jason says pointedly. “But I am going to do my best to accept that, whether I like it or not, I’m not Peter’s father, and it isn’t fair to him for me to keep dragging this out in court or otherwise.”

His heart aches as he speaks the words. He can see Peter’s face so clearly in his mind, and all he wants to do is hug the boy tightly and not let go.

“If you don’t think it’s right for me to see him today, so be it,” he says. “But in the new year, maybe we can start fresh. I can be his great-uncle who teaches him to ice skate. But I don’t want to fight anymore. If we want what’s best for him, none of us should.”

His ex and his nephew stare back at him with surprise, unsure what to say.

“Tell Peter that I love him very much,” Jason says, feeling his throat tighten and his eyes grow misty. Suddenly he feels the urgent need to get out of here. “Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you, Jason,” Natalie says, but he can hardly look at her through the tears that he feels coming.

He can feel their gazes upon him as he hurries back to his car. He tumbles into the driver’s seat, emotion overwhelming him as he processes the encounter. As much as he knows it was the right thing to do, the loving thing to do, it doesn’t feel good; it feels like another loss, another thing to grieve.

“Merry Christmas, Peter,” he says aloud to the quiet car as he wipes his eyes and looks back at the now-closed front door of the house that is now the boy’s home.

“It really does smell incredible in here,” Tim Fisher says to his mother as he pours himself a glass of red wine in the dining room. “Travis and Matt might outdo themselves with this dinner.”

Paula glances at her wristwatch with concern. “Well, it’s going to be mostly Travis. Sarah and Matt aren’t back from visiting Tori yet.”

“I hope everything went okay,” Tim replies.

“Me, too.” Paula lets out a heavy sigh as she looks around the house. In the living room, the lights on the Christmas tree are shining bright. The table is set with festive gold and red. She can hear Sophie laughing from the den, where she is spending time with her maternal grandparents, Helen and Don. But the house is much emptier, much quieter, than Paula anticipated it would be by this point in the day.

“Jason and Molly still aren’t here?” Tim asks.

Paula shakes her head. “Everyone seems to be running late — or had things to take care of before dinner.”

Now Tim joins her in expelling a sigh of his own. “It’s been a tough year for everyone.”

“You can say that again. Still, I know that we have so much to be grateful for.”

“We do. Dad always told me that. ‘Sometimes the path to happiness…’”

“‘…isn’t as straight as we think it should be.’” Paula lets out a little laugh of appreciation. “He always did have a way of changing my perspective on things when they felt bleak.”

“You have the same way about you,” Tim says. “You’re the backbone of this family, you know that? None of us would be half as strong as we are without you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Paula says, as they hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. A moment later, Sarah appears in the living room.

“How did things go with Tori?” Paula asks.

Sarah offers a brave smile. “About as well as could be expected. She didn’t tell us to go to hell, and they actually accepted our gift… so maybe that’s a start?”

“It is a start,” Tim says as he gives his sister a hug. “Where’s Matt?”

“He said he had one more thing to take care of,” Sarah says. “But he should be home pretty soon. Has Billy been okay?”

“He’s fine,” Paula responds. “Sophie’s been bossing him around all afternoon.”

Sarah smirks. “So, business as usual.”

“We were just talking about Dad,” Tim says. “How proud he’d be of everyone for pushing through the hard times and coming out the other side.”

“Well, I don’t know if we’re exactly out the other side yet, but here’s hoping we get there,” Sarah says as she moves to the bar to pour herself a glass of wine.

“You’ll get there,” Paula says. “I like to believe that your father is up there, watching over us and guiding us toward wherever we’re supposed to be.”

Tim sounds a little choked up as he says, “He is. Even if we can’t see him. He is.”

“It’s like that old poem,” Sarah says. “The one about looking back after hard times…”

“…and seeing only one set of footprints in the sand,” Paula finishes the thought. “Because God is always there, carrying us when we can’t carry ourselves.”

“Maybe that’s what Dad is doing, too,” Tim comments.

“He is,” Paula says, her voice now thick with emotion. “I just know it. When times get difficult, when things are too challenging… Bill is up there somewhere, ready to carry us through the worst of us to bring us to safety.”

She rests her head on Tim’s shoulder, and the three of them share silently in the warmth of their memories of Bill and their hopes for the coming year.

Matt’s feet feel heavy as he lifts them, one by one, up the ladder that serves as a staircase up to the attic.

“Marcus? That you?” Jake Gray calls out from above.

Matt remains mum as he reaches the top and hoists himself into the attic, which has been transformed into a man-cave of sorts. The house’s roof meets in a triangle’s point up above, and a cushy sectional sofa fills a large portion of the space.

“It’s me,” Matt says. “Merry Christmas.”

Jake turns away from the football game on TV with surprise. “How’d you get in here?”

“Your wife let me in. She wants us to talk just as much as I do.”

“We’ve got nothing to talk about, Matt. Save your breath.”

Matt shakes his head. “I’m not doing this again. Yeah, I screwed up. But we had nothing to do with each other for years and years. We’re all each other has left. So there’s gotta be a way to make things right again.”

Molly gets nearly all the way home before she spins the steering wheel and makes a U-turn. Not twenty minutes later, she is back on Brent’s front porch. She knows that she can’t delay doing this forever, and if she waits for some mystical perfect moment, it will never come. So, when she rings the doorbell, she is relieved that it is Brent who answers.

“Hey,” he says with confusion. “Did one of the boys forget something?”

“No. I did. Or– I wanted to tell you something, and I chickened out, and I can’t keep doing that. It’s Christmas, and…”

Brent glances back behind himself. “This really isn’t a good time, Molly.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I think I do.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And we can have this conversation later — really, we should, but–”

“I’m pregnant, Brent, so we can’t just talk away what happened between us,” she blurts out. “Is that what you knew I was going to say?” 

She watches him turn ashen within the space of a few seconds.

“You’re what?”  

But the response doesn’t come from Brent. It comes from a female voice — one that Molly easily identifies even before its owner steps out from behind the door.

“Claire,” Molly says, going numb as she feels her stomach sink.

Natalie is just closing the oven door when she hears the doorbell’s chime again.

“I’ll get it,” she tells Spencer, who is in the midst of uncorking another bottle of wine.

“I hope it isn’t Jason again,” he says.

“I don’t think it will be. He seemed really genuine before,” Natalie says. “Maybe this really can be a clean start for all of us.”

“I’d like to think so… but I’ve learned better than to get my hopes up.”

She exits the kitchen and, instead of passing through the dining room, walks the other way down the short hallway to the foyer. She has no idea who else could be at the door, but she offers up a quiet wish that it won’t be too difficult to get rid of whomever it is.

As soon as she opens the door, however, Natalie freezes.

The woman flashes a Cheshire cat’s grin back at her.

“What’s the matter, Natalie?” the older, redheaded lady says, her green eyes dancing with a devious glow. “Aren’t you going to invite your mother-in-law in for Christmas dinner?”

Natalie stares in shock at Loretta Ragan, standing right there at her doorstep.

END OF EPISODE 1,000

What is Loretta doing in King’s Bay?
How will Claire react to the news of Molly’s pregnancy?
Can Matt and Sarah put their family back together?
Talk about all this and more in the comments below!

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