He nods. “He was mine. We had some good times, him and me.” He sits next to me and pours me a little cup of spiked hot cocoa. I never drink, except for a glass of champagne on Christmas, but this is a special occasion, I think. “He was so smart, but he never made me feel stupid. You know?”

I nod. “Me, too.”

He runs a hand over his head. “Your sister and me. We’re the only nongeniuses in the family.” He leans closer. “Sometimes that’s hard. On her. You know what I mean?”

“But I don’t care. Mom and Dad never did, never treated us differently or—”

“I know.” He shrugs. “Food for thought.”

I almost tell him about Hannah, but that would be too much, after today’s news. It wouldn’t be fair to him and Aunt Nora. Or Nah. Today is about Mom.

We look at the sky for a long time. Quiet. Peppermint schnapps is good. I can see why people drink alcohol. But it makes the stars blurry.

“What if they never find him?” I whisper.

The finding matters. I didn’t know how much it would, but I should have. I want to find everything: the origin of the universe, a cure for my sister, the answer to every problem ever put before me.

“He’ll get where he needs to go,” Uncle Tony says. “That man, he’s not the type to be lost. Know what I mean?”

I nod. Maybe I’m not giving Dad enough credit. He was like Ben, a Zen master. Maybe he rode the wave until he reached enlightenment, then welcomed it with open arms.

“Mae.” Uncle Tony clears his throat. “I would never try to replace your pops … and you can never replace my Annie. But…” I remember him holding her little body. Her shallow breathing, his lips kissing her bare head. “It occurs to me that I’m a dad without a daughter, and you’re a daughter without a dad. On this plane, I mean. They’re still ours and we’re still theirs. Always. But. I’m here. If you or Hannah need me. Okay?”

My throat grows thick. I nod.

“Okay.” He smiles. “I’m freezing my balls off out here. I’m going inside.”

I laugh. “I’ll be down soon.”

“All right, kiddo.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, then heads for the dormer window that leads into the attic.

I turn. “Uncle Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

I stay outside for a while longer, until the schnapps makes the moon’s craters turn into pools.

When I’m back inside, I peek in the kitchen. Nah has Mom’s soup pot on the stove.

“What are we making?” I say.

She looks up from the cutting board. Her eyes are puffy and red.

“I just want to be alone.”

“Oh.” We’ve never not made soup together. “Okay.”