It’s a long time before he answers. “I got nothin’ to wear to a wedding.”

There’s the lame excuse. “I’m sure you could figure something out. Does that mean you’ll come?”

He peers down the road behind me. “That must be help.”

He didn’t answer my question, I note.

The headlights are coming from the direction of our house and they’re closing in fast. I know even before I spot the bearded driver that it’s Jonah behind the wheel of the BMW. Simon isn’t in the passenger seat.

He executes a perfect three-point turn in the snow with speed I wouldn’t hazard even on a sunny summer day. He then hops out and marches toward us with his boots unfastened and his coat unzipped, as if he dressed while running out the door. “What happened?” He has that urgent, almost menacing tone that he gets when he’s panicked.

“I slid into the ditch.”

“No shit. Are you okay?”

“We’re fine.” I heard my mom tell Simon as much, but of course Jonah needed to witness that with his own two eyes. He’s always been a “see it to believe it” kind of person.

He shakes his head. “I told you the roads were getting bad. You should’ve come back hours ago—”

“I found a dress!” I exclaim, trying to distract him from his rant.

His shoulders lift with a deep inhale. A telltale sign that he’s fighting his need to continue rebuking me. “It’s what you wanted?”

“It’s perfect. Or it will be.”

He exhales. “Good. I’m glad.”

My mom slides out of Roy’s truck, slamming the heavy door shut behind her. “Simon didn’t come with you?”

“I told him to hang back. Why don’t you guys take the car and head home? I’ll help Roy get this out.”

Mom slows to smile at Roy but only for long enough to say, “Thank you for your help. I hope we see you again soon,” before rushing ahead to climb into the driver’s side.

“Don’t they get snow in Toronto?” Roy asks casually, inspecting the underside of my Jeep. I’m guessing he’s looking for somewhere to attach that big hook.

“Yes. And she hates it there, too.”

Jonah notices Mabel strapping on a spare helmet. “Where’s she goin’?”

“Out with Kelly for a while.”

He frowns. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know, but Agnes told her—”

“Mabel!” he barks. “I want to see you back at our house by four thirty!”

Even in the dusk, I can see her face twist with indignation. “But Mom said—”

“I’ll be watching the clock. And Kelly? You go slow on that. It’s a lot faster than it needs to be.” A warning he makes every time Mabel and Kelly have gone out sledding together.

Mabel turns away, but not before I catch the eye roll.

Jonah doesn’t miss it, either, based on his inward groan.

“You’re gonna make her hate you.”

“That’s fine. At least she’ll live.” He zips up his coat. “Go on, get out of here. It’s miserable out.”

Jonah’s being far more tolerable than I expected. “You’re going to give me another earful later, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” He leans in to kiss me. “But it’s only because I love you. See you at home.”

I smile sheepishly. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you’ll be thanking me later.” He slaps my backside on his way past.

“Hey, Roy. Christmas dinner at our place tomorrow night. Come around four?”

He spares me a glance before turning back to my Jeep to fasten the hook. “Got plans already.”

I sigh heavily. “Right. Christmas with the chickens.”

“And the goats,” he hollers after me.

I fight against heavy eyelids as I burrow beneath our duvet, sated with food and wine, waiting for Jonah to come to bed. He and Roy battled the blizzard for close to an hour, working to haul my Jeep out of the ditch. I spent that time tackling the endless pile of dishes Astrid dirtied while cooking until my guilt over my carelessness overwhelmed me.

I was yanking on my boots, ready to take the snowmachine out to check on them, when the approaching glow of my Jeep’s headlights appeared in our driveway.

Surprisingly, it sustained minimal damage in the crash—shattered brake lights, a few scratches along the bumper, and a dent that Jonah says is cosmetic. All things that are easily fixed.

Jonah was too tired and cold to give me any grief, and thankfully my mother laid off on the blame game, too busy settled into the chair by the fire with Astrid’s mulled wine and my laptop, researching rustic winter reception décor ideas for the Ale House.

What started out as a hectic day transformed into an enjoyable night of food, family, and laughter. Astrid presented plate after plate of hearty Norwegian dishes—pork ribs she called ribbe, tender boiled potatoes, brussels sprouts and red cabbage from our garden haul, and a gelatinous cod dish called lutefisk that I swiftly passed on. After dinner, Jonah tore off the roof of the gingerbread house and then parked himself on the couch to watch Christmas movies, while Björn busted out the Swords and Shields board game. Even Mabel was interested in learning how to play, and I was hit with a wave of nostalgia as I watched her frown of consternation and listened to her competitive trash talk. For a few hours tonight, we had the old Mabel back—the one who used to sit across from my father at his checkerboard night after night.

“Come on, Jonah,” I groan. If this were any other time, I’d holler for him to get his ass up here. But everyone else said their good-nights well over an hour ago and the house is silent, save for Björn’s steady snore.

I reach for my phone to send Diana a Merry Christmas text that she’ll get when she wakes up.

My heart skips a beat when I see the notification.

Delyla answered the email I sent her yesterday morning.

My thumbs fumble to open the message. I hold my breath as I read the lengthy response.

I’m on my second reread when Jonah strolls into our bedroom, peeling his sweater over his head as he shuts our door. “I won’t be surprised if the power gets knocked out all day tomorrow. At least the generators are ready to go …” His voice drifts. “What’s wrong?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Roy’s daughter wrote me back.”

His eyes bulge. “You actually contacted her?”

“Yesterday.” With all the wedding frenzy, I didn’t have time to mention it. To be honest, a part of me didn’t want to mention it, not until I knew if my efforts were worthwhile. If Delyla would even respond to the woman who lives down the road from her estranged father.

She responded all right.

Jonah tosses his sweater onto the dresser. “And?”

“And she thanked me for contacting her. She wants me to call her.” Whenever I’m free, the sooner the better. There was no missing the impatience and enthusiasm in her words.

He sheds the rest of his clothes, changing into a thermal flannel sleep set I bought him. “Are you going to?”

“Call her? Of course. This is Roy’s second chance.”