Logan carefully navigated his way up the winding mountain road. The town fell away, yielding to the fantastic scenery of the winter woods with sunshine peeking through. “Tell you what. We’ll put up a special light display to give Santa a landing indicator. Just in case.”

“If we live with you while Mom is away, who will take care of us?” asked Angelica.

“I will,” said Logan.

“But who’ll be the mom?”

“I can do everything a mom can do, except I’m a little better at certain things.”

“What things?”

“Singing, for one. Snowboarding.”

“Really? What else?”

“Cooking, for sure. Wait until you taste my homemade hot chocolate. You’ll be like, Logan, you should make this for everybody on earth. Then there would be world peace. And global warming would end.”

A giggle erupted from the backseat. “What else?”

“Armpit farting. I’ll teach you how.” As they drove past the resort on the way to the house, he pointed out the highlights. “That’s the main lodge, where you can get a mean bowl of chili and the best French fries known to man. The ski school is on the end there. All the instructors wear neon lime-green parkas so you can find them. The chalet is like a hotel, and it’s got an outdoor pool and two hot tubs.”

“Can we use the pool?” asked André.

“Sure. We get special privileges because we run the place,” said Logan.

“Sweet.”

Logan liked having the kids with him, even though they reminded him of how very much he missed Charlie.

Pulling up in front of the garage of his place, he looked at it as a stranger might, and was struck by how large the residence was. It had been the original resort lodge, later repurposed for the owner’s family and a number of resident workers. In recent years, it had served as a rustic B and B. It had the same old-world vibe as the rest of the resort, with shutters on the windows and brown painted railings all around, a chimney on each end of the building and lights glowing in the windows. When he was by himself in the big old place, he felt like a marble in a pinball machine, rolling around aimlessly. Having the kids with him was going to fill a void, for sure.

“Here we are,” he said, getting out and gathering their bags. “Come on in, and I’ll show you around.”

“Who’ll look after us when you’re at work?” asked Angelica.

“Her name’s Chelsea,” said Logan. “She’s coming up to meet you later this afternoon. You’re going to love her.” Chelsea was a friend left over from his married days. After the divorce, the friends tended to divvy themselves up: friends of the ex-bride, friends of the ex-groom. Chelsea was one of the few who straddled the line, staying in touch with both Logan and his ex.