Chapter 24: The First Dinner

A year later, on the first Friday in November, my father set the table in the kitchen above the store for three.

He used the good plates and the tablecloth with the mended corner.

He lit two candles and then blew one out because it looked like too much.

"It's a dinner, Dad," I said. "It's not a ceremony."

"It's a dinner that was cancelled once," he said. "It gets candles."

He put one back.

I stood in the doorway in a green dress, with my hair down and my feet bare, and watched him straighten the forks.

He had gained eight pounds since the spring.

The cardiologist said his numbers were the best in five years.

The store did better than well.

Half the contractors in the county now bought lumber from a counter on Front Street.

The bell still rang when you came in.

Dominic had stayed.

He ran the yard side three days a week and the register the rest.

He had learned every regular's name, and every regular's dog.

He kept a toothbrush at my place and a key to the shop.

Neither of us had said what we were doing.

At six, the bell rang below.

I went down the back stairs.

Dominic stood in the dark shop with the street light on his shoulders.

He was wearing a jacket and a tie.

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