REMI'S POV
Eleanor's estate at Christmas was what Eleanor's estate always was — precise — but the precision had been turned, for the occasion, in a different direction. Not formal-precise, the kind that communicated hierarchy and correct distance. Warmth-precise: every detail of it considered and executed, the fires in three fireplaces, the table that seated thirty and had been set since Thursday, the specific food that had belonged to the Wolfe pack's Christmas gathering for sixty years and that Margaret had overseen the preparation of with the particular authority of someone who considers continuity a form of respect.
We arrived at six.
The pack was already there — the inner families, the council members, the people whose presence at the twenty-fourth was as established as the silverw
