Chapter 24: Did You Ask Her Yet

On the last night of the year the courtyard at Birchwood was white again.

This time I stood on the second-floor balcony above it, in my gray wool coat, with my father's chair beside me.

Willa had strung lights along the rail.

She stood by the door in a red scarf, holding a tray of paper cups, with Claire next to her in a camel coat.

Every Sunday for eleven months, Claire had come to Birchwood and lost at checkers to my father.

He called her "the tall one" and had never once gotten her name wrong on purpose.

"Eleven forty," Willa said, checking her phone. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"Getting something from the car."

"He's been getting something from the car for twenty minutes."

"It's cold," I said. "He's being thorough."

Dad turned his head.

He wore the blue cardigan and a wool hat Eli had bought him.

The butterscotch tin sat in his lap, and he had one disc in his cheek.

"Hannie," he said. "What year is it?"

"It's almost a new one, Dad."

"Good. The old one was too long."

I laughed, and he patted my hand.

Downstairs, a door opened.

Boots came up the stairs two at a time, and Eli stepped onto the balcony in his charcoal overcoat with snow on his shoulders.

He had a haircut.

He had white dust on his sleeve from a half day of drywall.

He looked at me, and he did not look anywhere else.

"Sorry," he said. "I had to find something."

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