The smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls filled the house as Juniper made her way downstairs. The soft murmur of voices and the rustle of wrapping paper drifted from the living room, where her parents had already begun their Christmas morning tradition of opening stockings. “Morning, sleepyhead!” her dad called as she walked in. He was in his wheelchair next to the couch, a mug of coffee balanced precariously on his knee. “Morning,” Juniper said, smiling as she tucked herself into an armchair near the tree. Eve was cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table, still in her festive flannel pajamas, her stocking beside her. She looked up with a grin, holding up a small jar of red-and-green pepper jelly. “Is this a family tradition, or does your mom just have really eclectic taste?”