Chapter 23: First Snow

The first snow came on the second Saturday of December, and my father insisted on seeing it from the garden.

We wrapped him in two blankets and rolled the oxygen cart down the stone path to the bench by the rose bed.

He sat there with his cheeks pink and his eyes full of the white lawn.

"Twenty-four winters I watched this from the window," he said. "It's better from the bench."

Brooke came out of the house with a tray of cocoa.

She was six months along now, round and slow, in a coat of Simon's that did not close.

She had been living in the Hallett guesthouse since the week of the arrest.

"Kyle took the plea," she told us, setting the tray on the bench. "Three years for the forgery and the fraud. His lawyer called this morning."

"And Joan?" I said.

"Her trial's in the spring. The Mackeys' ledger is in the evidence room, and so is your phone."

"Good."

"I filed for the divorce on Thursday," Brooke said. "The baby's name is going to be Haney. I'm a Haney again."

She handed me a cup and squeezed my hand.

She did not say thank you, and I did not want her to.

She walked back toward the house with one palm under her stomach, and the snow settled in her hair.

Conrad cleared his throat.

"I believe I'll rest my eyes," he said, though they were wide open and he was looking at Simon. "Don't mind me."

Simon was standing at the gate.

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