Four girls―Dorothy, Danny, Eleanor, and Noelle―stared in horror at Janelle Durrem. Jan pulled her white cap from her head to reveal a matching head of brown hair. It had grown shinier and fuller since they had last seen her seven years ago.

"But...how?" Danny gasped.

"I survived the fall," Jan said. "With a number of fractures, wounds, and bruises. After being pushed off the cliff, I fell into a tree. I had been wearing a green dress that day, so Penelope mustn't have seen me. I managed to climb down and get to safety." She paused as the four jaws gaped at her. Even Eleanor expressed shock for once. Jan swallowed. "I...was afraid. I thought that Penelope may try something again, and actually kill me, if she knew that I was alive. So I ran away."

"Then where have you been all this time?" Noelle asked.

"I've been in New York," Jan said. "I hitchhiked all the way from our small town in New Jersey."

Helen cleared her throat. "Tell them what you've been doing all these years."

"Oh! I made it to Broadway." Four pairs of eyes widened. "Well, almost. I'm auditioning next month. I've been doing Opera the last few years."

"Jan, that's marvelous," Noelle breathed. "I always knew you'd be a star."

"So you got your career?" Danny said. Jan grinned and nodded eagerly. "Jeez that's swell."

"Both her and Penelope," Helen finished. The very mention of her sister dampened Jan's mood.

"But how did you know, Helen?" Danny asked.

"Remember when Jim and I went to Philadelphia back in July? We actually attended an Opera that Jan was the star of. At first, I thought I was just imagining things, but I managed to catch Jan just as she was leaving. She found no use in hiding her identity from me. We decided...actually...that the rest of you should know as well." Helen's expression hardened as she turned to Jan. "I had no idea that you were going to pull such a stunt! How could you!"

"I-I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry."

"It takes more than sorry to fix this mess, Jan," Helen admonished. "Imagine if you had succeeded! You would be sentenced to death, and your career would be ruined. All that talent, wasted!"

Jan's bottom lip began to tremble. "I-I'm sorry. I really am. I-It's been so m-many y-years, and...and..." She began to sob uncontrollably. "I couldn't bear it! I couldn't! To see her face, the face of the one who tried to murder me! She stole everything from me! My family, my friends, my life! She even tried to steal my career on the stage as a singer! She doesn't deserve to live!" Jan's eyes had turned to rage, so wild that the others feared she might attack them. But after a moment, she buried her face in her hands and wept.

She had tried to murder someone. Murder. To say the least, it was a brutal word. The weight of knowing that she almost took a human life was alarming, especially since she wouldn't have killed the intended victim. However, more than likely, she was more terrified than anything else. She was terrified at what she had become―her sister, Penelope.

Her sisters waited for Jan's hyperventilating to calm before attempting to speak to her, mainly because they were too stunned to think. They couldn't believe Jan, sweet Jan, had stooped to such a low level. They hardly recognized the gentle, innocent girl that they had once known.

Helen was the first to gather her thoughts. Seeing as she already knew of the maid's identity, she had suffered the least amount of shock throughout the confession process.

"Jan," she said softly. "How did you put the poison on Dorothy's necklace?"

"When I took her coat," Jan whispered. "I dropped some powder on her neck."

A whisper. That was all it took. There was no doubt about it: Jan completely intended on killing her sister.

"So...what happens now?" Danny asked.

"Imagine the scandal," Noelle said. "What will Mother and Father say?"

"They will not be pleased," Eleanor said. "Both Jan and Penelope will go to prison."

"Unless..." Danny began. Her sisters looked at her curiously. "That is, I mean, it's not like any murders were actually committed."

"That's true," Noelle said.

"So, technically, neither one is a murderer," Danny continued. Her eyes began to brighten. "No crime was actually committed, right?"

"Right..." Noelle said.

"Right," Dorothy said from her bed. "I won't be saying a word about this to anyone. In fact, say that both Penelope and I were supposed to come to the tea party, but Penelope took ill the night before. Then, I can say that I ran into a tramp on the way over her, and he tried to steal my fur coat."

She glanced at the others, whose faces were practically glowing. It was brilliant, a stroke of genius. Even Jan was beginning to smile, though rather shyly.

"And I'll go back to New York," Jan said.

"Do we tell Penelope that Jan is still alive?" Dorothy wondered.

"That's a challenging question," Danny said "She ought to know, perhaps it would relieve her guilt, but what if she came after Jan and tried to kill her again?"

Jan's face fell one again.

"I think she has changed, and for the better," Dorothy said. "I think it will help her to know that her sister is alive. We just won't tell her that Jan tried to get revenge. Perhaps you and Penelope can make amends."

Jan squirmed in her spot on the floor. To make amends with one's murder would be difficult, to say the least. An element of trust has been broken down. Their relationship would never be fully healed. But reluctantly, Jan said,

"I would like that."

Dorothy grinned and clapped her hands. At that moment, the cuckoo clock in the hall chimed nine o'clock.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm ready to head home," Danny announced.

"Me too," Noelle squeaked.

"I'd better return to the ladies' college," Eleanor said.

"And I have a train to catch at noon," Jan said.

"So that's it," Helen finished. "I suppose that from now on, our Christmases can be filled with joy, since our dear sister is indeed still alive."

"Did you arrange all of this?" Eleanor asked suddenly.

Helen blinked. "Why yes, I mean, I arranged to tell you that Jan was still alive. But I didn't intend for any more murders to happen."

"I just have one final question," Dorothy said. "Who wrote the letters to Penelope?"

"I didn't," Jan said. "I didn't want anything to do with her."

"I didn't," Danny said.

"I didn't either," Helen said.

"Nor I," Noelle said.

Everyone turned to Eleanor. She calmly shook her head. "I didn't know about any of this. How could I have written the letters."

"Perhaps someone saw the incident that day on the mountain," Noelle suggested.

"I'll bet that's it," Danny said.

"I see no other alternate," Helen agreed.

So it was all settled. The sisters and Dorothy would head home, Dorothy would inform Penelope of Jan's existence, and the two sisters would make up. The only remaining question was whether or not Mother and Father should know, but such issues could be resolved by correspondence.

The chatter of the guests waned as each headed back to her abode, leaving the house in stilled silence, except for the ticking of clocks and whistling of the wind. At last, Helen entered her study and sat down at her desk. She had a few matters that needed to be disposed of prior to her husband's return later on that evening.

Helen disposed of the last piece of the special paper she had mail ordered. It had come in a kit, containing three different styles of paper. Naturally, this was perfect for Helen's purpose, as she never wanted the type of paper to be traced back to her. Unfortunately, she still had one remaining page. Seeing as she had no further use for it, now that everything was settled, she tossed into the gentle fire flickering in the parlor.

"There," Helen said to herself. "All done."

And by all done, she meant that she no longer had to worry about being discovered for what she had done.

After meeting Jan during the summer, Helen knew immediately that her siblings must know. However, she had to be careful how the meeting was set up. She had to have a good reason to gather all together. Moreover, she had to pick a time when Eleanor's college was on break. The most logical time was a week before Christmas.

She also had to find a way to tell only her sisters, not her parents, whose reaction could involve fainting, heart attacks, and the police. So Helen arranged for a sisters only tea party, which caused only praise from her parents, not suspicion.

But an even more pressing detail had to be worked out. For Helen had a suspicion that not even time had cured the animosity between Penelope and Jan. No, she feared that Penelope may try to harm Jan if she were to come. But Helen couldn't withhold an invitation to Penelope. If she ever found out―or worse, if her parents found out―Helen would be in a terrible predicament.

So she did the only thing she could think of: she devised a plan to hopefully frighten Penelope into declining the invite. Helen wrote letters every other week for four months and sent them out with her weekly women's club letters. She disguised her hand writing and used poor grammar and spelling to divert suspicion. She thought for sure that her plan would keep Penelope away, and it worked. The only thing that went wrong was that Helen did anticipate a doppelganger.

Even more shocking, however, was that it was Jan who attempted the murder that Helen had been fearing. Sweet Jan, who Helen thought couldn't even hurt a butterfly. She must have grown callus from all of the vengefulness she must have been harboring. Moreover, she might have met some unsavory characters while in the theatre. The world has a way of changing people, and it's all too easy to change for the worst.

But it was all over now―no more secrecy and no more murder. And most importantly, after seven years, their family was finally reunited.