In Aria's final forty-eight hours at Umbridge Court, she became the Semi-Silent Savior. With a minimum of fifteen words, she convinced Carl and Marita to return to Lynn until Lonnie recovered, if only to entertain the Harts' children while Mrs. Hart nursed Lonnie.

When Mrs. Ester Rosenburg reentered Aria's Universe, which had been so focused upon happenings at Umbridge Court, Aria couldn't help viewing her arrival as an intrusion. Aria awkwardly blubbered about Lonnie's tragedy while under the supervision of Kip Winters, and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg was vindicated that any man who would allow such things to happen to his female companion wasn't worth the love of her precious Aria. She momentarily forgave Aria for acknowledging Kip's existence, and all was right with the world.

First on the agenda for Aria and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg was a visit to the Creeds at the Mini Mansion. General Creed proclaimed that she was free to roam through the house as she pleased, after jubilantly declaring that they would be leaving the Mini Mansion very soon for the Annual Creed Family Reunion in Boston. Farewell Kip-induced terrors, Raina triumphantly crowed to herself!

Feeling as if she was invading the Creeds' privacy, Aria tip-toed up the stairs (deftly dodging the creaky step, third one from the top), trailing her fingertips over the ornate banister. Marcus was prostrate on what-used-to-be her window-seat, limbs sprawled haphazardly, studying a mountain of pornographic magazines… as if she had never abandoned him for Umbridge Court, and the Mini Mansion had never been rented by the Creeds.

Marcus lazily drawled, "The difference the Creeds have made in this hellhole is totally surreal. The General getting rid of your Old Man's collection of mirrors worked wonders. Honestly, I'd never seen my ass from so many atrocious angles before I met you."

Aria threw her arms around his neck. "I'm still waiting for that glorious day when you realize you have your own family that has been deprived of viewing your ass from ANY angle, since the day we met."

The first verbal barbs behind them, nothing else of mirrors and ass-angles needed to be spoken of. Aria merely stared into the depths of Marcus's amber eyes; he reciprocated the staring; they burst into gasps of mirth that left them breathless; the momentary awkwardness that had passed between them in their first few seconds of sharing the same space disappeared. All was as it should be between them.

The remainder of the trip to the Mini Mansion was heavenly, as the Creeds were sincerely interested in her thoughts and feelings in a way no one but Marcus and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg had ever been. They never crassly informed her that she was worthless, but encouraged her to share her views about the weather and religion and politics and their refurnishing of the Mini Mansion. They even offered her samples of their finest deserts with the afternoon coffee. It was with a heavy heart that Aria said her goodbyes. Her spirits soared with the knowledge that Marcus would be returning to Umbridge Court with Mrs. Ester Rosenburg to celebrate Christmas, but plummeted again at the reality of Boston.

Aria had been comfortably (for the first time) settled at Umbridge Court for about two weeks when Carl telephoned with the latest news about Lonnie. Lonnie, Carl was thrilled to report, had made quite splendid headway in her recovery. She was able to adjust herself to a sitting position in the bed the Harts had given her during her stay at their home. Though occasionally overcome by nausea if she sat up too long, she could feed herself, was fond of lengthy conversations, and insisted on exchanging her flannel pajamas for sweatpants and a T-shirt at least three times a week.

Satisfied that Lonnie had been taken care of to the best of their ability, Carl and Marita decided the time had come for them to return to Umbridge Court. Marita sashayed into the foyer (where the temporary tenants of Umbridge Court had gathered at the sound of their approaching vehicle), Carl staggering (beneath a tower of luggage) behind her, as she bubbled about her indispensability to Mrs. Hart during Lonnie's Hour of Greatest Need.

With a mighty "OOF," Carl heedlessly sent the luggage tumbling to the floor, announcing that he'd had an epiphany. Mr. Bruno had agreed to join Carl for a game of golf, Carl believed, in the hopes of seeing Aria again. Marita majestically sneered that no one in their right mind would go to such trouble for Aria. Carl snidely interjected that Mr. Bruno's flimsy excuse for breaking his promise was that he had never played before; Mr. Bruno had even given Carl an in-depth synopsis of one of Aria's favorite books as a last resort to distract him from said golf game. Carl concluded that Mr. Bruno praised Aria so passionately, wherever he found anyone willing to listen to him, that Carl took pity on the young man and rewarded his Romantic Affliction with the address of the Mini Mansion.

Marita sniffed regally that only a scumbag of the worst sort would turn to Aria for comfort six months after his wife's death. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg knowingly chuckled that any "friend" of Aria's was a friend of her's (although, when Mr. Bruno had yet to visit the Mini Mansion a week after receiving the address, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg deemed him "That vile Bruno Bastard."). When Marita ranted about the Rex Evans Sighting, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg growled with explosive finality at Marita never to refer to HIM again, and the discussion ended immediately.

At last, Christmas Eve arrived, with stockings, eggnog, multi-colored ornaments, and Aria's parting shot at Marcus. They had clustered about the tree, the Matthews Family, Carl and Marita, the zoo of children, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, and Marcus, when Aria slunk away (unheeded of course) in a haze of tinsel and wrapping paper. She trudged morosely to her room and dejectedly lit a fire in the miniscule fireplace.

Marcus crept up behind her, ginormous mug of hot chocolate and oversized quilt in tow, but Aria instinctively snapped at him to keep the hot chocolate in the cup, rather than dumping it onto her head, as had been their Special Yuletide Tradition for the last seventeen years, if he valued his life. He didn't bother asking how she'd known it was him because they had been best friends for so long that the stupid questions weren't necessary anymore.

Marcus coyly dangled a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. Off her bamboozled expression, he smirked that she had been secretly yearning to snog him senseless for years, so she may as well get on with it. Aria theatrically complied, for about two seconds, before sobbing and gasping and spluttering unattractively. He said nothing, simply draped his arm about her shoulders, tucked the blanket over her, and placed the mug in her hands. Such is the nature of best friends. Sometimes the words that are most meaningful are best exchanged in silence.