“How about if I send you the pictures as I add them, and you can write the captions? I don’t think we have to caption them all, just maybe a handful. If we have the year, that would help with the timeline.”

“I can do that. Send me the files as soon as you’re ready.”

“I will.”

They talked for a few more minutes, then hung up. Reggie looked at Belle, who was curled up in her bed in the corner of the eat-in kitchen.

“You know, I have more to do here than at home.”

Belle looked at her as if to ask whose fault that was.

“Yes, I know,” Reggie told her. “I can’t help it. I’ve never been able to say no to family. Or you, for that matter.”

Belle’s expression said never saying no to her was hardly a bad thing.

“You’re right, baby girl. Because you’re special.”

Toby arrived at the community center a little after two thirty on Monday afternoon. The third-graders were due at three, and he knew there would be materials to set up. He’d practiced making hats over the long weekend and was comfortable that he could help the kids.

He told himself that any sense of anticipation was more about getting started than seeing Reggie. She was his son’s teacher’s sister, and that was all. Yes, they’d had a good time at dinner and on the walk afterwards, but they were simply old friends getting to know each other again. Nothing more.

Still, he found himself hurrying toward the largest of the spaces in the community center. The double doors stood open, and he could see dozens of boxes stacked on large folding tables. He found Reggie opening a box of the hooks the kids would use.

She glanced up and smiled at him. For a second, he was transported back to all those years ago, when she’d looked him in the eye and told him he should ask her out. Her smile had been just as disorienting.

“You’re here,” she said. “Thanks for coming early. I didn’t totally grasp how much setup there would be until about an hour ago.”

“You should have called me. I could have come then.”

“I’m nearly done.”

Belle ambled over to greet Toby.

“Very festive,” he said, nodding at the red-and-green sweater.

“She loves the holidays.” She snapped her fingers. “Belle? Go lie down.”

The Great Dane sighed heavily before making her way back to a large bed in the corner.

“Want to get started opening those boxes of yarn? I figured the kids can pick colors.” She paused. “Forty kids, plus the parents. How about unpacking about a hundred skeins of yarn, in different colors. We can store the rest in the locked storage room, so it’s always close by.”