Morning Glory(14)

I run my hand through his dark wavy hair, and whisper, “Did you get the presents on her list?”

He nods. “Already wrapped and tucked away in the closet.”

“You’re Superdad, you know?”

He grins. “I know.”

“Mama,” Ella says from the barstool at the island, “Lindsey and Jane get presents on lots of days in December. Can we be Jewish too?”

I smile. “No, honey, we’re Italian, remember? Well, you and Daddy are Italian. But I can join along.”

“And Daddy was born in Italy?”

“Daddy was born in Montana, but your nonna and papa were born in Italy.”

“Can we go there sometime?” She looks just like her grandmother with those striking hazel eyes, and olive skin and wavy hair just like James’s.

“Yes,” I say. “Daddy and I are taking you there next year. You have many cousins who’d like to meet you.”

I hand her a cup of hot chocolate, with a handful of mini marshmallows on top. “Careful,” I say, “it’s a little hot.”

I take Ella’s bunny hat off and untie her braid. James drapes his arm around me as I smooth her hair.

I want to stay here forever, in this vision of my past, but I hear a knock at the back door. I try to ignore it, as if resisting being roused from a good dream. Just five more minutes, I think. Let me sleep a bit longer! But there it is again. Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

I snap out of my memories and turn around to see a man I don’t recognize peering inside the houseboat from the back door. He’s wearing a long-sleeve plaid shirt with a navy fleece vest and jeans. His short sandy blond hair looks mussed, and I have absolutely no idea if it’s on purpose or because he doesn’t care.

“Yes,” I say, a little taken aback. I force myself to smile even though I don’t feel especially chatty. And I would prefer to be wearing something other than a nightshirt when meeting neighbors, especially handsome male ones.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “but I just thought I’d check to make sure everything’s all right.”

Suddenly I smell smoke, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.

“I smelled something burning.”

For the moment, I’m less concerned about who this strange man is and more worried about burning the houseboat down. “I don’t know what happened,” I say, looking down at the stove. “I just turned on the burner to warm up some milk for hot chocolate and . . .” I see smoke coming from the oven vent; I open the oven and the smoke billows out.

I jump back, and the neighbor guy, whom I haven’t properly introduced myself to yet, runs in and opens the front door to let the smoke out. He then presses a button below the range hood and the fan turns on. He looks inside the oven, then nods. “No fire,” he says. “Something must have burned in there.”

“That’s so strange,” I say. “I must be tired. I thought I was turning on a burner. I guess I somehow turned on the oven instead.”

The man extends his hand. He looks younger up close, the way most people do in their thirties or early forties, when the subtleties of age show in the lilt of a smile or the curve of the eyes. He’s no more than thirty-eight, I’d guess. “I’m Alex,” he says.

“Ada,” I say. “I just moved in yesterday.”

“Welcome to the dock,” he says, smiling. “Technically, I live on the next dock, but Jim and the others have made me an honorary neighbor.” He leans in and cups his mouth as if he’s about to let me in on a little secret. “If you want to know the truth,” he says with a wink, “my dock’s a bit of a buzzkill.”

“Oh yeah?” I say, grinning. We walk out to the deck, and he points to the houseboat across from mine. It’s a little smaller, more masculine, somehow, with its straight lines and modern roofline. “I moved here five years ago. Got the place for a steal because it was this close to sinking.”

“Oh, wow,” I say. “So you remodeled it?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Anyway, sorry to barge in like that. But after the houseboat fire in 2003, I’m a little skittish about smoke on the lake.”

“Fire?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d just moved in the month before. Five houses burned on a nearby dock. It was awful.”

“Wow,” I say. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, thank God,” he replies. “And it’s an amazing thing, too, because when a houseboat catches fire, the next goes very quickly. You can’t be too careful out here.”