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“You mean it broke her,” Ken said, and Artie looked over at him. He stopped eating.

“Maybe.” Artie thought about this as he sat there. He finally said, “Well, she wasn’t broken when she conceived Rob.”

“No, you’re right.” Ken nodded.

Artie picked up his fork. “Anyway, then Rob says, ‘Dad, I’m thinking of writing Heather’s parents a letter. What do you think?’ And I thought about it, and I said, ‘Well, time has gone by. It might help them. Or it might not. But you ought to try.’ ”

Ken wiped his mouth with his napkin. He said, leaning over to touch Artie’s hand, “I know them, as I’ve told you. And tell Rob this: They would like a letter. If it’s worded right, and I’m sure it will be.”

“Thank you,” Artie said, looking at this man.

“No, no,” said Ken. “Thank you. I love our evenings out.”

He said that. He said that to Artie Dam.

—

Artie texted Rob that night: Met a guy who knows Heather’s parents. Write the letter.

And Rob texted back: Thanks, Dad.

Then another text came in: So much.

7

“Let’s ask Rob to come over to decorate the tree,” Evie had said earlier that week. But when she called Rob, he said no, but he wanted to come by in a few days, he had some news for them. So Evie and Artie decorated their tree by themselves. Evie had put on Christmas music, and what she did not know was how sad Artie was as he handed her the ornaments from the box. “But he’s going to come for Christmas, right?” Artie asked as he handed her an ornament that had belonged to her grandmother, a pink glass shell.

“He didn’t say, but of course he’ll come,” Evie said.

Artie felt a wave of fear. He could not have explained it, and he did not have to. But the idea of his being alone with Evie on Christmas morning seemed almost unendurable to him. Then he said, cheerfully, “And now this,” handing her the star and watching while she stood on a chair to set it at the top of the tree.

—

Rob showed up a few days before Christmas—with Francesca. Once inside the house, when their coats had been taken and they were standing in the living room with Artie and Evie, Francesca said, singing this, “We’re together again—forever!” And Rob said, “That’s right,” and they hugged each other.

“Oh, thank God!” Evie jumped up and down in tiny motions, clapping her hands. “Thank God, thank God, thank God!” She looked at Artie, her face glowing. “Right?”

Artie said, “Absolutely right.”

They had brought with them some presents, and Evie said, “Here, let’s put them under the tree,” and she started to take them from Francesca, who stood there in her white sweater and her jeans, and Francesca glanced at Rob, who said, “No, open them now. We’re not coming for Christmas.”

“You’re not?” Evie’s face showed dismay.

Rob said, “We’re going to have our first real Christmas together. We’re taking a car trip to Maine and having it with Francesca’s cousins who she hasn’t seen for a million years.”

“Good for you,” Artie said, clapping his son on the back.

As Francesca moved past the piano she bent down and played a few quick notes. “Play!” Artie said. “Please do.” But Francesca laughed and said, “No, no.”

They moved into the living room and opened the presents, a cashmere sweater for Evie and a pair of binoculars for Artie. As Artie sat there, he had a memory of Christmases with his family. Maria had given his mother a cranberry-colored glass vase one year, and his mother had been very pleased with it, and Artie remembered the happiness on Maria’s face at that. Artie and Maria got one present each, both a Slinky, and they played with them for hours on the cellar stairs.

“Two more things,” Rob said as he handed his father a big soft wrapped package. “It’s a joke, except not,” Rob said, and Artie opened it to find a big plastic bag filled with fresh white socks.

“God,” said Evie, but Artie beamed at Rob.

“And one other thing that is not even remotely a joke,” Rob said, and he handed his father a small wrapped box. Artie undid the wrapping slowly, making a bit of fun out of it, and when he opened the box, a tiny sailboat was in it. He took it out with wonder, and looked at Rob, who said, “I’m going to go sailing with you again, Dad. Like I did when I was little. That’s what that’s about. This summer. We’ll go out together.” After a moment Rob said, “Are you okay, Dad?”

Artie nodded. “Makes me very happy,” he said. He said it quietly, he could almost not speak.