Ravi's hundred-acre wood was in the middle of nowhere. Of course it was—you were hardly going to put a dead body full of utopium in a shallow grave in the middle of downtown Seattle, convenient though that would have been, Major thought, grimacing as the muck stuck to his boots. Or maybe it would have been less convenient—it was less noticeable to dig in an empty field than it would have been to jackhammer up a street. Or a sidewalk.

They settled into a routine, Ravi working the metal detector and Major wielding the shovel. He might have complained about that division of labor, but the exercise felt good, and kept him from having to think too much.

He found a dented and rusty can, which was undoubtedly what had set off the metal detector, and carefully filled the hole back in again. Apparently even in the middle of nowhere, people noticed if you started leaving holes everywhere. Tamping down the dirt in the refilled hole, he leaned on the shovel, breathing hard. "My high school coach thought digging and refilling holes built character."

Ravi turned to look at him. "He'd be so proud." He picked up another flag marker off the stack.

From the edge of the refilled hole, Major saw another piece of metal poking up, pulling an old license plate out of the ground. He looked at it, looked at Ravi, and looked back at the license plate.

Shrugging, Ravi said, "Add it to the not-utopium pile."

Major tossed it away and went back to digging. He and Ravi dug another six holes, finding six more not-utopium items, before calling it quits for the night.

"Too bad we're not metal scrappers," Major reflected, kicking at the pile they'd made.

Ravi held up a twisted piece of metal whose original use was no longer obvious. "Or industrial artists. You could make quite an intriguing sculpture out of some of these pieces."

"Be my guest. Nice new career for you."

"Maybe when I retire." Ravi eyed the rest of the field. "Which might well be before we ever find anything out here."

"Come on. Let's head back. I'll buy you a beer."

"Sold. Actually, let's call Liv and get her to bring food."

Major didn't point out that they could have ordered takeout. After all, Liv knew perfectly well what they would have ordered—and she might as well contribute somehow, since she wasn't out here doing the dirty work. "That works, too."

They went home, where Ravi got out his map and marked off the section they had just finished. Major looked over his shoulder, discouraged by how little marking there was in comparison with the blank part of the map. "At this rate, we'll have dug up the entire field by Easter."

Neither of them had noticed the knock on the door, so Liv let herself in. "More digging? God." She was wearing a Santa hat and carrying a bag, which she put down on the coffee table, beginning to pull little white boxes out. "Rest, ye merry gentlemen. I brought the traditional Peking duck."

"Ah, I love how giving you are on this Santa brain." Ravi reached for a box.

Major was right behind him, although he'd stopped to pick up a bag he'd left by the tree. He handed it to her. "I got you a little somethin', Liv." He'd actually picked it up before they broke up, but the gesture was meant to indicate that they were still friends and he was okay with moving on that way.

"Aw!" She took the bag and opened it, and gasped with joy. "Zombie High: The Complete Second Season!"

Ravi glanced at Major. "What's my gift?"

Major grinned. "Not having to watch that."

"Oh, come on, we have time for a few episodes." Liv held it up in front of her face, batting her eyelashes at them. "Please?"

"What about tradition, Liv? White Christmas, followed by Die Hard. The classics."

She frowned. "You make a good point."

"Of course I do. Besides, you'll want to watch straight through, and you won't want us making snarky comments in the middle of the episode."

"You would do that, wouldn't you?"

"With bells on."

Liv narrowed her eyes at him, and he grinned back at her. "Fine. But I get to act out the choreography number this year."

Ravi lifted his eyebrows. "Act out?"

"Oh, yeah. She really gets into it." He leaned over and stage whispered, "And she cries during Die Hard."

"Come on, everybody cries during Die Hard! The scene in the bathroom, where he's afraid he won't make it out of there?" Liv looked up at Ravi. "He tears up, too, when he thinks I'm not paying attention."

"That was one time, and I had something in my eye."

"Something a little bit like the Christmas spirit?"

"Something like a stray piece of glitter."

"To-may-to, to-mah-to."

"Children!" Ravi interrupted. "If you keep this up, dinner will be colder than my Grinchy little heart. And where does the old Grinch fit into your tradition, anyway?"

"'You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch,'" Liv sang. "What do you say, Major, can we add that to the list? It's short."

"Why not?"

So he got the movies, and Liv got the plates, and Ravi got the beers, and they settled in for a long winter's night.