“And I might get a dog. This is a good street for one. And a dog improves this weather.”
“You had one.”
“I did. Old Buddy. I knew him from a pup.”
“He was some kind of black Lab, right?”
“He was, and a good dog. He certainly knew where the school was at three in the afternoon.” He stood facing the window. “I need more of that in my life. Shall we walk down?” he said.
Kathleen lifted her scarf and coat from the chair. When she was wrapped up, she grabbed the shopping bag from the chair.
“What’d you bring?” he asked.
“Cholesterol. Sausage and scalloped potatoes.”
“Perfect for the season.”
“In thirty years of bringing this dish to parties in this town, I’ve never had to take any home.” Kathleen opened her hands to the pretty kitchen. “You wanted to show me that you’re staying.”
He put his suit-coat collar up and tied a black scarf around it. “I just wanted you to see my home. I’m fishing for design tips. I need to get some rugs for that dog to lie on.”
It was a pleasure to fight the old front door in the wind and to bump out into the uncompromising night. The wind was frigid and cut at their noses as soon as they stepped out onto the porch. Kathleen took his arm and put her head against his shoulder as they marched through the stiff sheets of snow three houses toward the Brands.
“Oh wind,” Mason said.
“Right,” Kathleen said. “Welcome home.”
“This is the little walk that counts,” Mason said. “Hold on to me.”
“I will, but they all count.” She spoke in phrases as the wind cut through. “If a person was raised here, he knows the way the light falls in this town on any given week, even you who have been absent for years. That isn’t true for any other place for you. Knowing that, you can choose, wind or no wind, and let’s just say: there’ll be wind. This is a big week, Mason, with the trip and Jimmy gone, and now as always the big weather.”
He stopped walking to turn in front of her to block the snow for shelter. There was the shadow of a kiss in his posture, but she nudged him out of it. “Let’s walk and talk. Mason, I’m glad you’re here, and I’d like to meet that dog.” She held his arm tight, and they kicked through the drifts. “This is a good little walk that we won’t ruin in any way.”
“Good enough,” he said. “You’re right about the daylight. And the wind.”
The Brands’ house was full of noise, all their friends and Jimmy’s friends, and the aromas of dozens of covered dishes. There was just room to take off their coats a shoulder at a time in the tiny entry and turn to give them to Sonny. The two women looked at each other and embraced. “Hello, hello. Good luck finding these things later—they’ll be on the bed with a thousand others.”
Kathleen threaded through the close room to the kitchen with her casserole. Mr. Brand, in his Sunday suit and tie, came up and shook Mason’s hand. “You’ve got some people in here,” Mason said to the older man.
“It was a good service.”
“It was,” Mason said. “He was a good man.”
The remark caused Edgar Brand to put his hand on Mason’s shoulder, and Mason recognized the touch, that approval, from days lost to memory. “He was a good man,” Mr. Brand said now. “He made many things.” He was searching Mason’s face for information.