“Snow day.” Troy set an oversize mug in front of Ash, the billowing steam sending a warning to let it sit for a few moments before sipping. “Snow that doesn’t inconvenience too many people and will be melted by Monday morning—that’s grounds for celebration, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely. I was running around in the stuff like a little kid.”

  “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.”

  “Huh?”

  With a wistful smile, Troy gave Ash a plate heaped with food. “Just a gentle reminder to carpe your diem. Enjoy your youth while you have it.”

  Ash scoffed at this. There were some days when he felt ancient.

  Zeke poked a fork threateningly in Ash’s direction. “Don’t make that face, whippersnapper. Yes, I know you have a grown-up job and pay grown-up bills and do all that grown-up shit, but you are still young, my dear. And you ought to act your age.”

  Not knowing what to make of this, Ash waited for Troy to join them at the table, at which point all three dug into their food. It was a casserole sort of thing involving potatoes, cheese, onions, a sprinkling of green veggies, and probably a lot of butter and sour cream. Hardly light fare, but it was delicious, and exactly the sort of thing someone would want after spending the morning playing in the snow. The hot chocolate was good too, although it didn’t quite compare to Mahonia’s.

  Ash was halfway through his second serving when he cleared his throat. “What do you mean, act my age?”

  His hosts exchanged meaningful looks, but it was Zeke who eventually answered. “Don’t take life so seriously all the time. Have fun. Play hooky from work every now and then. Flirt shamelessly. Try new things. As the Red Queen advises, believe—”

  “It’s the White Queen, darling,” Troy interrupted.

  “As the White Queen says, believe impossible things. Maybe not six before breakfast—that’s a lot—but sprinkle one in every now and then.”

  Ash sighed. “I don’t think I can do that. I’m… responsible.” He said it as if it were a terrible attribute.

  Zeke patted Ash’s arm. “You have it in you, honey. Frolicking in the snow is a good start, for example.”

  Maybe that was true, but it was also a one-off. By morning the snow would be melted and Ash would be back to his usual boring, predictable self. His boring, predictable, timid self.

  “You know, yesterday I ran into this guy at Fred Meyer. Actually, he ran into me. Shopping-cart fender bender. He was really cute and sweet and… interesting. I wanted to ask him out, but I couldn’t get up the nerve. And that’s me: chicken.”

  That led to a brief round of cooing and consolation from Troy and Zeke, both of whom insisted that Ash was strong and brave and all sorts of similar nonsense. It was nice to hear, anyway.

  Zeke eventually sat back in his chair with arms crossed. “You want my advice? Well, hell, we both know I’m gonna give it to you whether you want it or not. You’re not afraid, you just have selective vision. You look at your clients, and despite their difficult pasts, you see all the good things they can become. That’s wonderful! Now look at yourself and do the same. See the positive possibilities! When you collide with an intriguing boy, envision all the happy outcomes if you ask him out.”

  Stubbornly, Ash shook his head. “I can’t. I just picture being humiliated when he turns me down. Or crushed when we sit down for coffee and I act like an idiot and he never wants to see me again.”

  Ash hadn’t entered his landlords’ apartment expecting life coaching—or even thinking that he wanted it—but it felt good to talk about these things. It was also nice to be on the receiving end of help for a change. Besides, while Zeke and Troy might be a tad eccentric, they were also wonderful human beings who seemed genuinely happy. He could do worse than listen to them.

  They were doing the silent conversation thing with each other, all eyebrow movements and mouth quirks, until Zeke nodded and Troy stood. “C’mere,” he ordered, and Ash obeyed, following him into the living room and stopping in front of the big window that overlooked the backyard. There was a window seat covered in well-worn cushions. Ash suspected a lot of reading happened here.

  “Look outside, Ash. What do you see?”

  From this angle, the snowman wasn’t visible, nor was the snow angel that Ash had made. In some places, however, there were footsteps in the snow. “A squirrel,” he answered finally. It was perched on a shrub like royalty surveying a domain.

  “Yes, but beyond that.”

  “Um… trees?” Ash wasn’t sure how deep the lot went. It seemed to extend farther than any neighboring properties, and in fact it looked as if it ran farther than the adjacent street, but that must have been a trick of perspective; he knew that street was there. In any case, the back part of the lot was completely overgrown, a tangle of trees and underbrush that resembled a primordial forest more than an urban backyard.

  Troy chuckled. “Yes, trees. Douglas firs, ponderosa pines, western red cedar. There are some oaks there too, and ash and alder and maple and dogwood, but they’re hard to make out this time of year since they don’t have leaves. By rights, they shouldn’t all be clumped together like that, but they are. And if you could squeeze your way in among them—being careful of the poison oak—you’d find a lot of other species as well. Some of them would surprise a botanist.”

  There was probably a point to this. Or else Troy had been smoking weed while he made brunch. “It’s, um, very naturalistic.” Which was, in fact, one of the things that had drawn him to this house when he was hunting for a place to live. Not that he had ever entertained plans of venturing into the woods, but he enjoyed knowing they were there.

  “Yes. But look, Ash. And open your mind. Let yourself see the magic.”

  Yeah, that sounded like some good kush for sure. But Ash looked anyway, because, well, why not humor Troy? The squirrel scampered across the lawn toward the trees, and just before it disappeared behind a broad trunk—for just the flash of a split second—it shifted and grew and looked remarkably like a man in a nubbly sweater. Then it was gone.

  Ash shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut to clear his vision. There were no more squirrels visible outside, and certainly no people. But the trees! They suddenly seemed larger and lusher, their enormous branches hanging with vines and mosses. In the underbrush, meanwhile, bright flowers had appeared, a veritable rainbow of colors. And… was that a puppy-sized beetle trundling away beneath the clump of fuchsia ferns?

  When Ash blinked, the woods returned to normal. Still unkempt and impenetrable but not impossible.

  “Did you guys spike my cocoa?”

  Troy patted his shoulder. “You know better.”

  Unnoticed by Ash, Zeke had joined them in front of the window, and the two men bookended him in a way he found comforting. As if they might protect him. No. As if they might lead him somewhere he needed to go, and that was a wonderful feeling.

  “Ash, we need to tell you something.” Troy’s voice was soft but somber, causing Ash’s heart to lurch.

  For a moment he almost considered covering his ears and refusing to listen. But acting his age meant a lot of things, and one of those was facing bad news with grace and dignity. He nodded.

  But Troy didn’t say anything right away. Maybe he wished he didn’t have to. Eventually he sighed. “Zeke’s sick, Ash.”

  “Oh no!” Stricken, Ash turned to Zeke, who smiled and shook his head.

  “Don’t look like that, honey. I’m going to be okay. My prognosis is very good. The problem is, the health care system isn’t so good. My insurance won’t cover everything.”

  Ash was stuck on the first part of what Zeke had said. “Really? You’ll be fine?”

  “I will. And I don’t want you worrying about me, okay? Or treating me like I’m fragile. The only reason we’re even telling you about this is because of the finances part.”

  “Oh.” Ash thought quickly. “I don’t have a lot of savings, but it’s yours. I can probably swing a loan. And maybe help you set up a GoFundMe?”

  Zeke chuckled. “Oh my God, you are sweeter than sugar, aren’t you? We don’t need anything from you but your company and good thoughts.” His expression grew more serious. “But it looks as if we’re going to have to sell off the back of our property, and that’s a shame. You can tell why we’re reluctant, but, well, the city says that land is subdividable, which makes it worth a fortune nowadays. Selling is the fiscally responsible thing to do. Now, don’t worry—we’re keeping the house. You won’t have the hassle of finding somewhere else to live. But by next year we’ll probably have some of those ugly townhouses behind us instead of… that.” He waved toward the woods.

  Ash felt whiplashed. He was worried about Zeke, despite the admonitions not to be, and also relieved that the outlook sounded positive. At the same time, he was sorry to hear about the planned sale. Even if he never tromped around under those trees, and even if he’d entirely imagined the… the stuff with the tricky squirrel and humungous beetles, he liked seeing the little wilderness through his apartment windows. It was special.

  “Guys, if there’s anything I can do, anything you need, you’ll let me know, right?”

  “We will,” Zeke said warmly, as if Ash was the one who needed comforting. “Now get on with your day before I get all mushy, which all of us will regret.”

  “Can I help with brunch cleanup?”

  “No, we have it under control. Go finish your snowman, Ash, and then tackle your chores. Or take a nap. Sunday afternoons are good for that.”

  After a quick round of thank-yous and a couple of hugs, Ash bundled up again. Before heading outside, however, he dashed upstairs and fished a slightly wilted carrot out of his vegetable bin. He figured he’d scrounge the yard for stones or pinecones for his snowman’s eyes and mouth, along with twigs for the arms. Maybe he’d find some other odds and ends to make the fellow look more dashing. He couldn’t have explained why, but the snowman felt important now.

  He ran downstairs, took a deep breath against the chill, and loped over to the snowman—only to find it smiling at him.

  Someone had formed eyes from large acorns and a mouth from little crimson berries. There was no nose. The snowman had buttons of polished shell and a crown of holly. And a scarf that closely resembled—but wasn’t an exact twin of—the one Ash currently wore wrapped around his neck.

  Four

  THE SNOW had mostly melted by Monday, no doubt disappointing every schoolchild in the Portland metro area. Ash didn’t have the heart to check on the snowman. He dressed for work and walked to the office, sipping from a thermos of coffee along the way. It was a pretty slow day at work—hiring tended to come to a standstill this close to the holidays—which left him with plenty of time to think about the previous day.

  And there was a lot to think about. His weird vision through his landlords’ window. Zeke’s unsettling news. And the snowman finished by… some mystery person.

  The worst thing about being preoccupied with all of these thoughts was that there were no conclusions, no answers. Just a lot of oddness and concern tumbling around in his brain like clothes in a dryer.

  Ash’s coworkers signed out early. Two of them offered to drive him home because it was raining, but he politely refused. When he locked up the office and began the slog homeward, he didn’t intend to go to Mahonia’s. Yet he somehow found himself there, his hand turning the knob, his feet stepping inside, his nose inhaling delicious aromas.

  Sam and the Pollys weren’t there today, but most of the tables were occupied and Mahonia was busy behind the counter. Still, she paused to greet him as soon as he entered. “Ash! Welcome back!”

  For the first time since he’d woken up, his worries seemed to lift a bit. “Thank you.”

  “Have yourself a seat and I’ll bring something out to you shortly. I know just what you need.”

  If so, that was quite a trick; he had no idea what he wanted. Everything in the pastry case looked delicious, and anything with caffeine would be great. But he nodded and turned, expecting to have to search for a table. He discovered, however, that the one he’d sat at last time was vacant.

  All of the other customers seemed to be watching as he settled in. Their scrutiny was curious but not, he thought, unfriendly. He felt a little as if he’d stumbled into a private party, yet Mahonia seemed genuinely happy to see him. Anyway, he couldn’t very well leave without creating an awkward scene.

  And then Nep the cat hopped down from the windowsill, ambled over, and leapt onto Ash’s lap, where he curled up immediately and began to purr. Ash couldn’t possibly get up now, so he petted Nep and gazed into the dark, drizzly night.

  “Really, Nep?”

  Ash startled a little when Mahonia spoke from just behind him. He must have truly been zoning out. “I don’t mind. It’s nice, actually.”

  “He’s by far the laziest among us. Content to nap away most of his life in whatever warm spots he can find. But he’s also an excellent judge of character, and you couldn’t ask for any better ally in a fight.”

  “A fight?” Ash asked, alarmed.

  “Oh, we haven’t had one in years. No cause to worry. I’m just explaining why we willingly tolerate the idle old sod.”

  Nep gave a single loud meow, closed his eyes, and returned to his impression of a fuzzy outboard motor.

  Mahonia set two things on the table in front of Ash: a mug emitting fragrant steam and a plate containing a baked item that looked like a turnover. “Mulled cider and a nice vegetarian pasty,” she said by way of explanation. “Should warm you and fill you quite nicely.”

  Ash wouldn’t have ordered either of these items on his own, but now that they were there, he realized they were exactly what he wanted. His mouth was watering already. “It smells amazing.”

  “You can boot Nep off your lap if you don’t want to eat around him.”

  “Oh, I can manage. He can stay if he wants.” Ash was quite enjoying the cat’s friendly warmth. He’d read somewhere that cats purred at healing frequencies, and he could believe it.

  “Y’hear that, Nep? But don’t you go begging any of his dinner, you old rascal. You can have your own whenever you’re ready for it.”

  Nep gave a raspy little meow that sounded offended, and Mahonia laughed and walked away.

  The pasty was stuffed with potatoes, leeks, and herbs, and it was every bit as delicious as Ash had hoped. The cider went perfectly with it, and he somehow managed not to burn his tongue on the drink. He was just finishing everything off when Mahonia returned, this time with a giant oatmeal raisin cookie and a cup of tea. “Herbal,” she said. “Don’t want to keep you awake all night.”

  “I certainly won’t be suffering from hunger or dehydration.”

  “Good food is always important, but especially when life is challenging. It’s easier to face the world with a proper meal in your belly.”

  He smiled at her. “You love your job, don’t you?”

  “I do! I don’t have to work, of course, and there’s some who tell me I’m silly, but I reckon they’re the fools. This place makes me happy. Watching folks relax, enjoy my food and drinks, enjoy one another’s company—that’s rewarding. Do you love your job too?”

  Ash didn’t have to think about it. “Yeah, I really do.”

  “Why?”

  “I… get a client who’s been struggling, right? Some of them have struggled a lot. And I help. It’s not just about the money they earn, although of course that’s very important. I also help them see their own strengths and feel valued. Plus, most of them end up in places where they’re doing good in the world, so that’s a bonus.”

  “You’re not going to get rich this way, though.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. But I’m fine with that as long as I can pay my bills. Speaking of which….” Ash squirmed a little, wondering if he could get his wallet from his back pocket without evicting Nep.

  Looking serious, Mahonia held up a hand. “I can’t take your money. Too risky.”

  He didn’t understand that last bit and decided to focus on the first. “My first time here was free, which I really appreciated, but you’re being too generous. I can afford to—”

  “I know. It’s not that. Anyway, I’m giving you food and drink in trade for a service, just like last time. That way it’s safe. I’ve a bag of trash—will you take it out to the bin for me?” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the back door, which he assumed was the route for his task.

  It was an odd request but not entirely bizarre. With the café full of customers and with no other employees evident, maybe she didn’t want to leave the place unattended, even for a minute or two. “I’d be happy to. But I can also pay.”

  “No,” she said smugly, then took up his empty plate and mug and sailed away.

  The cookie was very good and the tea relaxed him, and as soon as Ash finished, Nep hopped off his lap and strolled back to the window spot for a bath. Ash took out the trash—it was just a small bag of paper for the recycling bin—before gathering his things and heading to the counter.

  “Mahonia—”

  “Clay really has chosen well. I hope it works out for the both of you. I think it will.”

  He remembered his earlier conversation with Sam. “Clay, um…. Tony?”

  “Clay Tonia, yes.”

  “But I don’t know—”

  “You do. You just don’t know that you know yet.” She grinned, made a shooing motion at him, and disappeared through the door behind the counter.

  Well, there went his theory about her not wanting to abandon her watch. Although he considered waiting until she returned, or maybe just leaving some cash on the counter, he instead sighed and ventured out into the rain. He’d pay next time he was here.

  It was funny. His time in the café hadn’t clarified any of his problems; in fact, it had raised more questions. But as he made his way home through the evening’s damp, he felt calmer than he had all day. More settled. Mahonia was probably right about the effects of a good meal.