Package Deal(29)

Fifteen minutes later, the car slid sideways onto the icy driveway.

“Go on in and distract the boys,” Mike said. “I have something in the trunk I need to hide until the big night.”

Marcus entered the house and was tackled within seconds by Mike’s two sons, dark-haired Dean, age twelve and David, seven, his hair the same color as Mike’s and Marc’s own.

“Attention, men! Are we going to have a snowball fight tomorrow, or what?” He hugged each in turn.

“Yeah! And, I’ll win, Uncle Marc,” David predicted. He reached down to pick up the bag Marcus had dropped near the door.

“No, you won’t—I will, kid,” his older brother countered, playfully shoving David away.

Marcus couldn’t stop beaming at his nephews. “Hey, Dean, stand up here next to me. Has your dad been sticking you on the rack? You’ve grown at least a foot since last spring.”

The boy stood up straight. “He let me do a ride-along last month. I want to join the force after high school.”

“You mean after college, don’t you?” Evelyn joined them in the living room and poked her older son’s ribs.

Marcus ruffled his younger nephew’s hair. “What about you, David? Do you want to be a cop, too?”

The younger boy shook his head. “Don’t you remember? I’m going to be an architect. I’ll show you my models, if you want.”

“Good idea. How about tomorrow?”

“Boys, let’s get Uncle Marc to the table so he can eat. He’ll beat you both at snow fort fights tomorrow.” Evelyn raised a wine glass in his direction, the question in her eyes, as Mike entered the house and hung up his coat.

Marcus nodded.

The boys led him into the dining room, where the table was already set. Throughout dinner, he regaled his brother’s family with his sabbatical at the Library of Congress. Their questions and laughter warmed him, reminding him of similar gatherings when his parents were alive.

The next day, more snow added another coating to the trees. Marcus helped David build a snow fort, from behind which they pelted Dean and Mike with snowballs. When Mike left to work the evening shift, Evelyn asked Marcus to sit with her while she cleaned the kitchen.

“Now that the boys aren’t monopolizing you, tell me more about your book. I thought you had it half-done when you went home last summer.”

He sighed. “It was, it is. I’ve been distracted—with new course work, and other things.”

“Mike says your distraction has a name.” She turned toward him between trips to and from the sink. “What’s she like?” She smiled and brushed her dark hair off her face.

The hesitation he’d felt earlier in talking about Amanda slid away in the warmth of Evie’s quiet interest.“She’s in the English department. I’ve watched her teach, she has a real gift. And, she has a little girl who’s just like her.”

“What’s her daughter’s name?”

“Cecelia. She’s nine and a whiz-bang soccer player. Reminds me of Dean and how he’s so single-minded about basketball. She goes to the Campus School. When they practice or have games, I can see them from my office window.”

“She sounds like a love. How is she like her mother—is she athletic too?”

He recalled their last few dates, how she’d almost beat him racing up a hill that last time they’d walked along the trails behind campus into the Arboretum. And how she’d hidden from him in the trees, until a sputter of laugher gave her location away, deliberately, he suspected. “She offered to help me with some magazine articles—she’s already published several. And, she’s agreed to do the writer’s workshop with me this summer.” Marcus looked at his sister-in-law, then put down the spoon he’d been rubbing. “Evie, can I ask you something—man to woman?”

Evelyn chuckled and put her arms around him for an impromptu hug. “Of course.”

At times like this, when she seemed to know what he was thinking, what was filling his mind, he still felt like Mike’s kid brother, the teen who’d lost his parents so young—right after Evelyn and Mike were married. Even in his midthirties, he still asked for her opinion. She’d always had time for him, time to listen, time to offer advice couched in obvious caring, advice he had found easier to take than from his brother, whose annoyance with him had been obvious so many times, especially that first year after the accident. Was it advice his mother would have offered, something he hadn’t had since he was a fifteen, or a big sister’s concern? Did it really matter, other than that Evie always listened?