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His dad grimaced as he stood, a little hunched over, like an old man. “Lead the way.”

Later on, after they’d met not only Cinderella but Belle and Aladdin and Jasmine and some of the characters from Toy Story, and after they’d gone on Space Mountain twice and It’s a Small World one godforsaken time, which Emily had insisted on because she wanted the “experience,” and after they’d eaten an extremely overpriced yet admittedly tasty meal and watched fireworks explode above, Emily’s head on Leo’s shoulder the whole time, they arrived back at his grandparents’ house exhausted. Leo was young and able-bodied and still ready to collapse; he couldn’t imagine how his aunt and his dad felt.

Emily excused herself almost immediately to take a shower, and Aunt Ellen left shortly after to pass out, probably. His grandparents were already in bed, so that left Leo with his dad again, alone for the first time since their awkward conversation earlier. Leo really hoped he didn’t want to continue it. “Any interest in a nightcap?” he asked.

His dad shook his head. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to go straight to bed. See you in the morning.”

Leo would blame himself later, even though logically he knew he shouldn’t. They were all exhausted, after all. There was no way to know.

16

Shira was tired. Not (only) from the jet lag; it was a good tired because she’d been up late the night before sketching. Sketching some concepts for what might become future paintings or what might just be something fun for her. She wasn’t entirely sure yet, but she’d been invigorated enough by it to stay up late working and even to stop in the middle of the sidewalk the next morning to email herself an idea that had suddenly popped into her mind upon seeing the way the sun reflected against the icy sidewalks, which was not serving her well with her sister the drill sergeant.

“Shira, stop lollygagging!” Talia hollered from half a block away. Shira jumped, squinting into the bright reflection of the sun, then stuck her phone back into the pocket of her big down coat and slipped on her glove again. Talia was standing on the snowy sidewalk outside the Davids’ house, probably glaring impatiently from under the wooly rim of her hat, though it was pulled down too far to tell. You’d think they were running a relay race in the Olympics. “You’re not working, are you?”

That was one thing that had been freeing about the past year. Once Shira had gotten her new job, she’d finished up her outstanding freelance projects and declined to take on any more. “I’m not working,” she said, not having to yell as she’d already closed half the distance between them. Ice crystals crunched under her boots. “The office is on West Coast time, and it’s nine a.m. They won’t open for another few hours.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Shira. Her project still felt too new, too vulnerable, to share at this point. “I’m off this week anyway. Don’t you have a flock to herd or something?”

“You’re the flock I’m trying to herd right now,” Talia said and then hollered behind Shira. “Dad! Did you fall and break a hip on the lawn?”

Shira shook her head, bemused, as she passed her sister. Somehow this family walk got harder and harder to corral every year.

Still, she wouldn’t miss it for anything.

Her eyes lingered for a moment on the Davids’ dark front window. She was sad to miss Leo. She’d grown to look forward to seeing him every year. Now she probably wouldn’t see him until next December, and who knew where they’d be then. He’d probably be engaged to Emily.

She pushed away the pang in her chest. Mostly she was missing Neptune, she told herself. Poor doggie, in a kennel for the holidays. Hopefully the boarding people would slip him some turkey or ham for Christmas.

Leo or not, this party wasn’t going to plan itself. She asked Talia, “Anything I should be sure to include at the party tonight that I’ve forgotten, Rabbi?”

“I’m not a rabbi yet,” Talia told her. “And you know the basics. Hanukkah isn’t even that important a holiday anyway.” She paused and then went on, more quietly, “I’m glad you’re throwing the party again, though. It wasn’t the same last year.”

Shira patted her heart, oddly touched, unused to receiving any sort of compliment from her sister. “Aw, thanks. I love you, too.”

“I didn’t say that,” Talia grumbled, which was much more like her. Still, Shira had seen the way her eyes lit up whenever she talked about her schooling and the congregation she was hoping to be placed in as an assistant rabbi one day, in a rural town whose congregation size had been shrinking over the years and that could no longer justify the cost of a full-time rabbi. If she needed to save all her loving-kindness for her flock, so be it.

She glanced again at Leo’s dad’s dark window and pulled her phone back out, quickly, keeping it cupped in her gloves so that Talia wouldn’t see. She told Siri to text Leo, Happy first day of Hanukkah! Thinking of breaking into your house to keep my skills sharp, anything in particular I should look for?

He responded immediately. Happy Hanukkah. My dad keeps his secret chocolate stash in the cabinet above the refrigerator, but it’s protected by a fleet of lasers and pits of spikes. Proceed carefully

She snorted. And here I thought I was free to go since the guard dog isn’t here

Welcome back to your life of crime, he replied.

She tucked her phone away, sighing deeply. The moment she’d gotten that text telling her that Leo would be away with Emily and his whole family, she couldn’t help but think a proposal was coming. They were in their late twenties. Leo and Emily had been together almost two years, living together for half of it. She’d prepared herself, putting on the armor so that when she officially got the word, it wouldn’t pierce any vulnerable organs.

Not that she’d crumble or sob or anything like that. She’d be happy for him. He was her friend—maybe the best friend she’d ever had. They might have been a good couple, but life had never lined up for them. She’d been an ass when he had feelings for her. Then, by the time she’d gotten her shit together and was no longer an ass—or at least less of an ass—he’d moved on.

Two of the older women in the Sisterhood at her synagogue had been clucking to set her up with their sons. Both sons were supposedly doctors. Medical doctors, not doctors of art history. Maybe she should finally give it a go.

That night, the Hanukkah party came and went in a glitter of silver and a blur of candlelight. The neighbors complimented the decor, the kitschy garlands and shiny tablecloths; they said the food was good, too. This year she’d officially given herself permission to be easy and buy everything from the deli, even though it would’ve tasted better to have made her own latkes again. The doughnuts came from the bakery. She went to pick them up herself and felt a pang of something both sad and amused to see that they’d upgraded the lock on the back door so it was now all big and shiny and silver, beside a sign warning that she was on camera. She impulse-bought some extra pastries out of guilt—banana bread, something with guava and cream cheese, an ube hand pie—and ate them in the car while she drove, smiling at how dry the banana bread was.

Being with her old neighbors felt a little bit like being with the people at the synagogue. None of them knew Danica; none of them knew exactly what it meant to put on a show that didn’t do well or the difference between all the art galleries in LA. All they knew was that she’d had a show of her art exhibited by a professional gallery and had worked at an art gallery and now she worked at a marketing firm, and that was all cool.

When the party had ended and she’d made a half-hearted attempt to clean up before swearing to her parents that she’d do it the next day, she went to bed. Showering was less necessary without latke grease to scrub out of her hair, but she did it anyway, even treating herself to one of those bead-rub things that were supposed to tenderize her skin like a baked chicken.