A cell phone on the counter chimed. Logan checked it, and his face changed entirely, turning marble-hard with tension. “Sorry, I have to take this. Excuse me.” Grabbing the phone, he stepped out to the backyard.

Darcy took a sip of coffee. She slid the cream pitcher across the counter toward Al. Your son just kissed me, she thought. And then: I liked it. She hoped she wasn’t blushing too much. “Ah,” she said, “that awkward moment when one has no idea what to say.”

Al chuckled. “Nonsense. I didn’t mean... Logan doesn’t seem to understand how proud I am of all he’s accomplished.”

“Have you explained that to him?”

“Maybe not directly, but he knows.”

Darcy wasn’t so sure of that.

“We talked about that resort,” Al said. “That Saddle Mountain place. I was hoping it was just a passing fancy. I didn’t think he’d actually go for it. Sounds like a leap off the fiscal cliff to me.”

She didn’t say anything. This was between the two of them. Yet Al seemed to want to talk. He seemed like a good guy—blustery, bossy, but kindhearted. India adored him. And he was certainly good-looking, big and athletic, his abundant red hair fading at the temples. When she regarded Al, she could picture Logan thirty years from now. Scary thought—she enjoyed picturing Logan thirty years from now.

“He’s always been too fond of skiing and snowboarding,” Al said, pacing back and forth. “People think that just because they love something, they can make it their life’s work.”

She laughed. “Al. Listen to yourself.”

“Okay, but still. If you saw your kid about to step off a cliff, wouldn’t you be concerned?”

“Logan seems pretty sturdy to me. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Why’re you worrying about Dad?” asked Charlie, coming into the kitchen. His face was still sleep-soft, making him look even younger than ten.

Darcy was struck by an urge to reach out to him. Kids needed hugging. “For somebody who doesn’t like kids,” Logan had said, “you sure like kids.”

“Should I worry about Dad?” Charlie asked, absently scratching his cheek.

“Of course not,” said Al, giving him a kiss on the head. “You have a great dad.”

“You can say that again.” Logan came back into the kitchen, phone in hand. “I’ve got a little news, Charlie-my-man.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Your buddy André?”

“From Camp Kioga, yeah! What about him?”

“He and his sister are going to be spending Christmas with us.”

“Cool!”

“What?” asked Al, another thunderous frown darkening his face.

“Christmas at Willow Lake,” said Logan. “How does that sound?”

“We always have Christmas here,” said Al.