Chapter One

Chapter One

BREAKFAST WASalways the most important meal of the day for the Zigler family.

Kyle could never guarantee that he’d see his kids for dinner. Lunch was either provided by the school or by his neighbor. The kids were eight and almost twelve, well-adapted at reheating leftovers and entertaining themselves when they got home before he did—and they usually did.

But breakfast—breakfast was different.

Breakfast was an event. Traditionally, he’d pull out all the stops. Bacon, multiple juice options, toast, a range of syrups—Kyle could practically make eggs in his sleep.

And Kyle enjoyed the zen of the brief time when he was awake before the children. The silence of the season was extraordinary. Even the sounds of the kitchen seemed muffled. The coffee maker purred over its brew, the pancake batter bubbled softly on the griddle, and even the creak of cupboard doors seemed comforting.

There was something about the weeks before the holidays that could bring the nostalgia out in anyone.

“Are those chocolate chip pancakes?” Alice’s voice was hoarse with sleep. She leaned on the doorframe, dressed in her pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. The sweatshirt said, “Life is pointless without geometry.” Her choice.

Washing his hands in the sink, Kyle turned to his eldest child. “Good morning to you too,” he greeted with a half-smile. “And yes, they are chocolate chip.”

Alice yawned, her jaw cracking. Her brown hair stood up in odd angles, seeming to mimic a cockatoo. “Whipped cream?”

Kyle took the canister of Reddi whip and shook it, smiling. “Oh ye of little faith.”

Alice smiled, scrunching up her nose before taking her usual spot at the table. “You ran out for strawberry pancake day,” she pointed out.

“That’s because someone woke up in the middle of the night and decided to eat a couple mouthfuls directly from the can,” Kyle reminded her. He poured himself his cup of coffee and brought the plates to the table. For him, his usual two slices of toast with a sunny-side-up egg on each one, bacon, and sliced fruit. For Alice, a stack of pancakes and bacon. And for Zach, who always awoke last of the family of three, a breakfast sandwich with two smaller plain pancakes as the bun. “I am not liable for thefts outside of operating hours.”

Alice rolled her eyes before digging into the pancakes. Kyle took the seat across from her, clutching his steaming mug in his hands. The wintry light did the same thing to her eyes that it did to Kyle’s—it made them appear just a little more blue. Their shared iris color fell somewhere between green and aqua with little brown, almost orange flecks. When asked if he had blue or green eyes, he always joked that he refused to commit to just one side.

The joke had the added effect of being a good way to tell if his new acquaintance was straight.

“Can I try some coffee too, Dad?” Alice asked between mouthfuls.

Kyle frowned, tempted to look around the kitchen to see if he was being pranked. “You? Caffeinated and unleashed on your middle school?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.” Alice grinned.

“It sounds like you want your father cited for creating a nuisance.” Kyle shook his head, then caught sight of his younger child walking into the kitchen. “G’morning, Zach-attack.”

Zach rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, sniffing the air for the pancake spread that undoubtedly summoned him there. “Don’t give her coffee,” he mumbled. “Please.”

Kyle had to laugh. The tone was so plaintive that the poor kid must’ve already imagined the result. Even in the mornings, Alice started out as a kinetic chatterbox. Zach was more like Kyle himself—he needed a warm-up period.

Alice rolled her eyes. Right on the cusp of adolescence, she’d begun perfecting her full range of eyerolls. “Okay,” she allowed. “But my present this year needs to be really good.”

“Of course it will be.” I have no idea what your present will be. Every year, Kyle promised himself that he would not put off shopping for Christmas presents. And every year, he failed to listen to himself.

He still had time to shop, of course. He wasn’t too worried. He’d never let the kiddos down before, but the calendar was starting to seem more like a jump scare than any kind of chronological tool.

“It has to be good,” Alice insisted, “especially since I’m the favorite this year.”

Zach sighed, still rubbing at his eyes under his thick glasses. His black curls were smushed on the side he slept on and he clutched a blanket around his shoulders, which was fairly typical. He had a slighter build than his sister, with alert brown eyes and a smattering of freckles across his nose. “Dad doesn’t have favorites,” he said dutifully.

Alice took a moment to drain her orange juice. Kyle rose to refill her glass. “He does this year. I told him ‘Happy birthday’ before you did, which means I win being the favorite until you have a chance next year.”

The rules of this game, of course, were entirely made up by Alice herself. It had been equally amusing the year before, when Alice knocked on her father’s door at four a.m. to offer salutations. “I beat Zach in wishing you happy birthday.” she’d declared.

Kyle really hated to be the bearer of bad news. “Well. Actually, Zach had a nightmare and was up at midnight, so….”

Alice’s jaw had dropped in shocked indignation. “Awww, man. I woke up early for nothing.” Clearly, the thought was not what counted.

She’d made sure to get the jump on it this year, though. The knock on Kyle’s door came at 12:01 a.m. Kyle wondered what kind of reward he could create for the kids letting him sleep in on his birthday.

He glanced at the clock on the stove, then at his children’s nearly clean plates. They were ahead of schedule, for a change. “All right, it’s about that time. Tell you what: if you two are dressed and ready, bags packed, in less than fifteen minutes, I’ll make you both cocoa in a travel mug.”

That proposition sent both the Zigler children scrambling toward their rooms like monkeys. Goes to show that parenting, especially as a single dad, was all about compromise.