was standing there all covered in flakes of fresh white snow. He looked like a human mountain.
"Have you been outside yet?" he asked.
She smiled. "No, but I see you have."
He laughed that same deep wonderful laugh and shook his head and snow flew. "How could you tell?"
“Come inside.” She stepped back. "You want some coffee?"
“Coffee sounds good,” he said and stomped the snow from his shoes, then brushed off his shoulders, sending snow about like a retriever. Then he came inside, pulling off a pair of great shaggy gloves that made his hands look like paws.
She poured him a mug of steaming coffee and turned to hand it to him. He was looking at the Christmas tree.
"It looks as good in daylight as it did last night."
"It does." She watched him take a long drink that should have burned his mouth, but it didn't seem to bother him. "What were you doing outside?"
"Shoveling the walk."
"Is there that much snow?"
He nodded, took a drink, then stared at her for a moment. "The streets are starting to fill with sleighs."
She had moved to the window and was looking outside, where it looked as if the world outside had been dipped in sugar. She felt the heat of his body standing behind her. She could smell the wet leather of his heavy coat.
"Are you doing anything today?" he asked her.
"No."
"I thought you might like to see the city, from a sleigh. It’s there, just below the window."
She pressed her cheek to the old windowpane. Sure enough. There was a sleigh and a team tied to the front post. "I'd love to." She smiled up at him, and they both stood there for a second, neither saying anything. It was uncomfortably intense, so she looked away because deep inside she wanted something more to pass between them. "Give me five minutes."
"Sure.” He stepped back quickly. “I'll wait downstairs." Then he left.
Eleanor raced across the room, pulled out a metal vacuum bottle, and filled it with hot coffee. She sealed it and then stuck it in a sock the way her grandfather always had. She tucked it inside a basket with some apples and a wedge of cheese, then she grabbed her coat, hat, and gloves and was down the stairs in a couple of minutes.
At the second-floor landing she slowed down so she didn't look like some silly old woman racing down the stairs. He met her inside the foyer and opened the door.
There was nothing like New York City when it was cloaked in a thick layer of fresh snow. He helped her into the sleigh and climbed in the other side. The seats were soft, and there were some wool blankets inside. She tucked one around her legs and feet, and straightened in the seat just as he snapped the reins.
The sleigh lurched forward, and they were off. The steel runners swished over the snow and the harnesses tingled. The horses trotted in a muffled clip-clop until he gave them the freedom to take off. A second later they were going so fast the sleigh bells hardly had time to jingle.
They passed other sleighs filled with people chattering and laughing like they were. Some people were singing Christmas carols and sleighing songs, and Conn began to sing.
She smiled and looked at him. He finished his song...if you could call it a song. Her cats sounded better. "It's a good thing you're a boxer and not a singer."
"I'm not a boxer." He grinned at her. “I'm a retired boxer.” For the next hour, he told her about his life as a boxer. They talked about everything while they drove all over the city.
The red and brown houses of Harlem were capped with snow. Manhattanville in its hollow looked as if it were peeking out from a thick, fluffy white blanket. Sleighs went up and down the wide boulevards, and along the sidewalks the red shawls of work women flashed like cardinals in the snow.
Their noses turned red, and they sipped steaming coffee when the air turned colder. Sleighs dashed throughout the city, and at the intersections people shouted Merry Christmas! Miniature avalanches fell from roofs and awnings and onto the sidewalks below. People ducked and ran, but no one seemed to mind being doused with fresh snow.
He took her to lunch at an Irish tavern where the novelty of the day was to guess the weight of the owner's pig. Eleanor's guess was off by a hundred and fifty pounds. They sat by