“What will you do?”

“I’m not sure. I just know I don’t want to take foreign assignments. At least for a while.”

“Can you do that, then?”

“Sure.” Talking about work kept his mind off what he was doing. He reached for a Reno, Nevada, globe and wrapped it up. “How’s the new Lincoln?”

“Rides like butter.”

“How’s Joyce?” he asked, not that he cared, but thinking about Joyce was better than thinking about what he was doing.

“Planning a big Christmas to-do. That always makes her happy.”

“It’s not even October.”

“Joyce likes to plan ahead.”

Sebastian set the wrapped globe in the box. “And Clare? Is she over her breakup with the gay guy?” he asked, just to keep up the small talk with the old man.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen much of her lately, but I doubt it. She’s a very sensitive girl.”

Which was yet one more reason to stay away from her. Sensitive girls liked long-term commitments. And he had never been the kind of guy to commit to anything long term. He reached for a Wizard of Oz globe with Dorothy and Toto following the yellow brick road. Even though it would never happen, he let his mind wonder to the possibility of spending a night or two with Clare. He wouldn’t mind getting her naked, and he was certain she’d benefit from a few rounds of sex. Get her to relax and lighten her up. Put a smile on her face for weeks.

In his hand, the first notes of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” began to play from the music box within the base of the globe. The Judy Garland classic was his mother’s favorite, and everything inside Sebastian stopped. A thousand tingles raced up his spine and tightened his scalp. The globe fell from his hands and smashed to the floor. Sebastian watched water splash his shoes, and Dorothy, Toto, and a dozen little flying monkeys washed across the floor. The detached front he’d kept inside his soul shattered like the broken glass at his feet. The one steady anchor in his life was gone. Gone, and she wasn’t coming back. She was never going to dust her snow globes or fuss about clashing shoes. He’d never hear her sing in her faulty soprano voice or nag him to come over for a haircut.

“Fuck.” He sank to the chair. “I can’t do this.” He was numb and charged at the same time, like he’d stuck a key in the light socket. “I thought I could, but I can’t pack her up like she’s never coming back.” The backs of his eyes stung and he swallowed hard. He placed his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands. A sound like a freight train clambered in his ears, and he knew it was from the pressure of holding it all back. He wasn’t going to cry like a hysterical woman. Especially not in front of the old man. If he could just hold it back for a few more seconds, it would pass and he’d be okay again.

“There’s no shame in loving your mother,” he heard his father say over the crashing in his head. “In fact, it’s a sign of a good son.” He felt his father’s hand on the back of his head, the weight heavy, familiar, comforting. “Your mother and I didn’t get along, but I know she loved you something fierce. She was like a pit bull when it came to you. And she never would admit that her boy did any wrong.”

That was true.

“She did a fine job raising you mostly on her own, and I always was grateful to her for that. The Good Lord knows I wasn’t around as much as I shoulda been.”

Sebastian pressed his palms against his eyes, then dropped his hands between his knees. He glanced up at his father standing next to him. He took a deep breath and the pinch behind his eyes eased. “She didn’t exactly make it easy.”

“Don’t make excuses for me. I could have fought more. I could have gone back to court.” His hand moved to Sebastian’s shoulder and he gave a little squeeze. “I could have done a lot of things. I should have done something, but I…I thought that the fighting wasn’t good and that there would be lots of time once you were older. I was wrong, and I regret that.”

“We all have regrets.” Sebastian had a ton of his own, but the weight of his father’s hand felt like an anchor in a suddenly vertiginous world. “Maybe we shouldn’t dwell on them. Just move on.”

Leo nodded and patted Sebastian’s back like when he’d been a boy. “Why don’t you go get yourself a Slurpee. That’ll make you feel better, and I’ll finish here.”

He smiled despite himself. “I’m thirty-five, Dad. I don’t get Slurpees anymore.”

“Oh. Well, go take a break and I’ll finish this room.”

Sebastian stood and wiped his hands down the front of his jeans. “No. I’ll go find a broom and a dustpan,” he said, grateful for his father’s steady presence in the house.

Eleven

The first week of December, a light snow dusted the streets of downtown Boise and covered the foothills in pristine white. Holiday wreaths hung suspended from lampposts, and storefront windows were decked out for the season. Bundled-up shoppers crowded the sidewalks.

On the corner of Eighth and Main, “Holly Jolly Christmas” played softly inside The Piper Pub and Grille, the muted Muzak a fraction or two lower than the steady hum of voices. Gold, green, and red garlands added a festive air to the second-story restaurant.

“Happy holidays.” Clare held up her peppermint mocha and lightly touched glasses with her friends. The four women had just finished lunch and were enjoying flavored coffee instead of dessert.

“Merry Christmas,” Lucy toasted.

“Happy Hanukkah,” Adele said, although she wasn’t Jewish.

To cover all bases, Maddie added, “Happy Kwanzaa,” although she wasn’t African American, Pan African, or had ever set foot in Africa.

Lucy took a drink and said as she lowered her glass mug, “Oh, I almost forgot.” She dug around in her purse hanging on the back of her chair, then pulled out several envelopes. “I finally remembered to bring copies of the picture of us all together at the Halloween party.” She handed an envelope to Clare, who sat on her right, and two others across the table.

Lucy and her husband, Quinn, had thrown a costume party in their new house on Quill Ridge overlooking the city. Clare slipped the photo from the envelope and glanced at the picture of her in a bunny costume standing beside her three friends. Adele had dressed as a fairy with large gossamer wings, Maddie as a Sherlock Holmes, and Lucy had worn a naughty cop outfit. The party had been a lot of fun. Just what Clare needed after a difficult two and a half months. By the end of October her heartache had started to mend a little, and she’d even been asked out by Darth Vader. Without his helmet, Darth had been attractive in a macho-cop sort of way. He’d had a job, all his teeth and hair, and appeared to be one-hundred-percent heterosexual. The old Clare would have accepted his invitation to dinner with the subconscious hope that one man would ease the loss of another. But though she’d been flattered, she said no. It had been too soon to date.

“When’s your book signing?” Adele asked Clare.

She looked up and slipped the photo into her purse. “I have one at Borders on the tenth. Another at Walden’s on the twenty-fourth. I’m hoping to cash in on all those last-minute shoppers.” It had been almost five months now since she found Lonny with the Sears repairman, and she’d moved on. She no longer had to battle tears and her chest didn’t feel so tight and empty these days, but she still wasn’t ready to date. Not yet. Probably not for quite a while.

Adele took a sip of her coffee. “I’ll come to your signing on the tenth.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Lucy said.

“Me too. But I’m not going near the mall on the twenty-fourth.” Maddie looked up from the photo. “With the place so crowded, I’m more likely to run into an old boyfriend.”

Clare raised a hand. “Me too.”

“That reminds me, I have gossip.” Adele set her mug on the table. “I ran into Wren Jennings the other day, and she let it slip that she can’t find anyone interested in her next book proposal.”

Clare didn’t particularly like Wren, thought she had a huge ego but little talent to back it up. She’d done one book signing with Wren, and one was enough. Not only had Wren monopolized the whole two hours, she kept telling anyone who approached the table that she wrote “real historical romance. Not costume dramas.” Then she’d looked pointedly at Clare as if she were a felon. But not finding a publisher for your next book would be horrible. “Wow, that’s scary.”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah, no one tortures verbiage quite like Wren, but not having a publisher would be frightening.”

“What a huge relief for the Earth Firsters. No more trees have to die for Wren’s crappy books.”

Clare looked at Maddie and chuckled. “Meow.”

“Come on. You know that woman can’t even construct an intelligent sentence and wouldn’t know a decent plot if it bit her on the ass. And that’s a lot of ass.” Maddie frowned and glanced about at her friends. “I’m not the only catty one at this table. I just say what everyone is thinking.”

That was true enough. “Well,” Clare said, and raised her peppermint mocha to her lips, “every now and again I do have an overwhelming urge to lick my hands and wash my face.”

“And I have a desire to nap in the sun all day,” Lucy added.

Adele gasped. “Are you pregnant?”

“No.” Lucy held up her drink, which was laced with kahlua.

“Oh.” Adele’s excitement was instantly deflated. “I was hoping one of us hurries up and has a baby. I’m getting broody.”

“Don’t look at me.” Maddie shoved the Halloween photo in her bag. “I don’t have any desire to have children.”

“Never?”

“No. I think I’m one of the only women on the planet who was born without a burning desire to procreate.” Maddie shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind practicing with a good-looking man, though.”