for the past ten years and feels like the culmination of my entire career.
Jessica and I go over more details before I walk to the lecture hall for an undergrad class, then hold office hours. At two-thirty, I shrug into my coat and head out to pick Nicholas up from school.
Cartoon turkeys, smiling pilgrims, and fruit-filled cornucopias decorate the windows of the shops on Avalon Street. November is one of my favorite times of year in Mirror Lake—red-and-gold leaves carpet the sidewalks, the air is brisk, and we’re looking forward to the holidays, which Liv always puts her heart and soul into making magical.
Buses line the drop-off zone of Mirror Lake Elementary, and the parking lot is full of cars. I park on the street and walk to the entrance, where other parents are standing around waiting for the bell to ring.
“Dad.” Nicholas’s yell has me turning toward the school doors. Streams of children are starting to pour out toward their parents and the buses.
“Hey, slugger.” I bend to capture him in my arms, grateful that he’s still okay with me hugging him in public. “Good day?”
“Yeah. I got my Readersaurus badge.” He holds up a ribboned badge embellished with a picture of a cartoon dinosaur reading a book. “That means I finished all the reports for the books we were supposed to read.”
“Nice work. Let’s see how it looks on you.” I pin the badge to his jacket. We take a second to admire it before starting toward the car.
“Bye, Henry,” Nicholas calls to his best friend, who is trotting toward a waiting school bus.
“Bye, Nicholas.” Henry stops on the bus steps and waves frantically, as if they’re not going to see each other for a full year rather than one night.
After getting Nicholas buckled into his car seat, I drive to the Wonderland Café. The front porch is decorated with cornstalks, pumpkins, and the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, and the interior is redolent with the scents of chocolate and fragrant tea.
Liv is delivering a cup of coffee and a glass of chocolate milk to Archer and Kelsey’s table in the Mad Hatter dining room. Nicholas rushes toward them, colliding with Liv in a bear hug before going to greet Archer and Kelsey.
“Hi, professor.” Liv smiles and approaches me.
Ah, hell, but my wife is beautiful. Just watching her weave around the tables, her purple Wonderland Café apron molded against the curves of her breasts and hips, her long ponytail swinging back and forth like a swath of silk…I could grab her ponytail right now, tilt her head back and—
“…the toilet?”
I blink. “What?”
“The toilet,” Liv repeats, coming to a stop in front of me. “Did you get the leak fixed?”
“Yeah, I took care of it before I went to work.”
Clearly I’ll have to put my other thoughts on hold until tonight.
“Hey, Mom, can I have a cookie?” Nicholas asks.
“Yes, but just one. Ask Allie, and don’t forget to say please.”
Nicholas darts toward the front counter. I follow Liv back to Archer and Kelsey’s table.
“Hey, man, a few grad students and I are getting together for a pick-up football game Saturday morning,” I tell my brother. “You want to join us?”
“Nah, thanks, but I’ve got to work.”
Kelsey frowns at him. “You don’t work on Saturday mornings.”
“I’m covering for someone.” Archer takes a swig of his chocolate milk.
Something faintly irritated radiates from Kelsey, though I can’t figure out the source. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve asked Archer to do something and he has other plans, but I don’t take his rejection personally.
My brother and I are still not entirely at ease with each other—probably never will be—but we worked on the historic railroad project together for a while, we grab a beer occasionally, and we see each other when Liv and Kelsey drag us out to a concert or something. After thirty years of estrangement, Archer and I have come farther than I ever thought we would.
Hell, there was a time when I didn’t know if we’d ever see each other again. Now we’re living in the same town, and he and my best friend are in love.
Life sure changes.
“Hello, my dears,” remarks a familiar voice. “I thought I’d find you here.”
We turn to see elderly-but-spry Florence Wickham approaching, dressed in a pink suit with a pillbox hat perched on her snow-white hair. I half expect her to pat my chest or squeeze my biceps like she usually does in greeting, but instead she turns her twinkling