“And your family?”
“They’re good. This is my mom’s favorite time of year. She loves all the Christmas parties.”
He nodded.
“How’s my favorite boy?” Maddie asked.
“Your favorite boy has learned to count to twenty.”
“What? I’d love to hear him count to twenty.”
Leo checked his watch. “His choir practice ends in five minutes. I’m sure he’d be glad to show off his counting skills. Do you have time to say hi to him?”
“Absolutely.”
They made their way down the church’s hallways, talking easily about his work and hers. She was exquisitely aware of Leo beside her—his gait, his size. He wasn’t extraordinarily tall. Maybe five ten? But his lean body was perfectly proportioned and also the perfect complement to her five-five height.
They came to a stop just outside the open doorway of the classroom that contained risers bearing three- and four-year-old singers. Some of the kids were staring off into space. One was opening and closing the Velcro flap on his shoe. The rest were gamely singing “Away in a Manger” and following along with the hand motions their teacher was demonstrating.
The cuteness! Amusement tugged at Maddie’s lips.
Thanksgiving had come and gone just six days before, but in that time, Merryweather had switched from fall mode into full-blown Christmas mode. Wreaths hung from each light post in town. Greenery swathed the storefronts. And Christmas music danced in the air of this church classroom. Satisfaction sifted within Maddie, settling like fairy dust. She adored the Christmas season.
The teacher said a prayer and then excused each child as she recognized their matching parent. Charlie ran to Leo and threw his arms joyfully around his dad’s leg.
Charlie looked very much the way Maddie imagined Leo had looked at the age of three. Both Leo and Charlie had oval faces and defined, pointy chins. Charlie’s hair was white-blond, worn a little long, in a shaggy surfer-dude cut. The only visible stamp Olivia had left on her son was her eye color. Charlie’s eyes were the same blueberry shade that Olivia’s had been.
Whenever Maddie looked into Charlie’s face, she saw Olivia’s eyes staring back at her. It was heartbreaking. It was also reassuring in a sad sort of way. Olivia had died far, far too young, but she hadn’t died without leaving behind a legacy. Here was her son, healthy, happy, and learning to sing “Away in a Manger.”
Leo hoisted Charlie into his arms. One of Charlie’s small hands curved trustingly behind his dad’s neck. “Say hi to Maddie,” Leo said.
“Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” Maddie answered. “Your dad tells me you can count to twenty, but I told him no way. That can’t be possible. You’re only three.”
“I can!”
“What?” she asked with faux skepticism.
“One . . . Two . . . Three . . .” After ten, he paused for a moment, his miniature eyebrows inching toward each other. Ah, the confusing eleven and twelve, which really should have been calledoneteenandtwoteen. “Eleven . . . Twelve . . .” He rattled off the rest triumphantly.
“Wow! I’m so impressed.” Maddie held up her fist and he eagerly bumped it, then rested the side of his head against Leo’s shoulder.
She glanced at Leo, and a pulse of delight over his remarkable boy passed between them.
Throughout their high school years, Maddie and Olivia had been part of a group of five girlfriends. In addition to the two of them, their group had included Britt, Mia, and Hannah.
Maddie let herself into her apartment, carrying the sacks of groceries she’d picked up on the way home from church. She flipped on the lights with her shoulder and made her way toward her modern kitchen.
Her apartment had begun life in 1922 as an art deco office building near Merryweather’s downtown. It had narrowly escaped extinction during the seventies and eighties before its renovation, courtesy of the revitalization Merryweather Historical Village had triggered.
The bones of the building remained. Nicked and scratched hardwood floors. Enormous rectangular windows. The rest, including the drywall, had been stripped away when the structure had been converted into apartments. The exposed brick walls were weathered and varied—deep red in places, in others burnished orange, in others faded white.
Maddie had decorated with turquoise area rugs and furniture in shades of gray and white. She experienced a glow of satisfaction each time her apartment’s mishmash of old and new welcomed her home.
Once she’d put away her groceries, she opened a bag of peanut, raisin, and chocolate trail mix and munched on it as she studied the photographs held to her refrigerator with magnets.
One of the pictures near the top captured the five friends during their freshman year of high school. Back then, Olivia’s hair had been a light almond brown.
