Chapter Nine
On Christmas morning, the part that included daylight, Sal had to finish making calls and sending messages he’d started the night before.
Jack made them fried eggs with whole-grain toast and Canadian bacon, brewed coffee, and they exchanged simple gifts at the breakfast table—luxury pen, a book, concert tickets.
Having downed hangover aspirin and sipping second cups of coffee, they stood together at the large windows, looking out at an eerily white city.
“Do you think we’ll ever know who did it?”
Jack asked. “Or what happened to him?”
“It was an accident, Jack. No one did anything.”
“Right. I … almost forgot.”
They both took a drink. They watched outside.
Abruptly, Sal turned and surveyed the room. “Next year, how about a tree?”
Startled, Jack looked at him. “A Christmas tree?”
“Sure. And an advent calendar.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have thought you’d be into that sort of thing.”
“Times change. I think by next year … I might just be. We’ll be in our new house by then. We’ll start fresh.”
Sal smiled at him. “What do you think?”
“Yeah, okay. I’ve lived alone for so long, I guess holidays sort of lose their luster. But that would be nice when we’re in our own place.”
“And a puppy.”
“Huh?”
Again, Sal looked around. “Catia was a cat person and we never had time at home for a dog anyway, but I always wanted a dog. Be nice to have a watchdog out at that place. Not necessarily a trained professional, just a dog to bark along with the security cameras, you know?”
“You don’t have to justify a dog, Sal. I grew up with dogs. I’d love to have a dog again. It was the same for me. Never home, so—”
He shrugged. “Yeah. This time next year: new house, tree, dog. Okay?”
Sal grinned. “It’s a deal.”
He stepped in for a kiss.
“What about the house not being finished by then?”
“It’ll be finished.”
Sal chuckled. “Don’t you worry. I know people.” Another kiss. “How’re you feeling?”
“Headache’s just about gone. You?”
“Never better.”
“Then maybe you’re ready for the rest of your gift?”
“Only if you are.”
“One way to find out.”