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“You kids are so sweet. This is a lovely idea. You two were always such a good team.”

“I’ll go see if they have any wrapping paper at the front desk,” I offer, taking the box from Kristine before grabbing my coat and booking it out of there.

I briskly make the now-familiar walk to the main building, throwing open the door with abandon as I enter the lobby. There’s a huge Christmas tree set up in the center, too picturesque to be real, with families and couples bustling around, taking photos and clutching to-go cups and ski gear.

I’m greeted warmly by a pretty girl about my age in a lodge uniform.

“Hi there! I hope you’re having a wonderful stay at Great Blue Lodge. My name’s Pauline. How can I help you?”

“This might be a weird ask,” I say. “Or maybe it’s not? It is the holidays. Do you happen to have any wrapping paper? Or know where I could get some…quickly?” I shake the box, as if providing further explanation.

Pauline gives me a knowing smile and holds up one finger as she ducks away behind the desk. While she’s gone, I take another look around. There’s a fireplace across from the Christmas tree with a number of cozy armchairs set up in a semicircle. It really is straight out of a Hallmark movie here.

Pauline pops back up. “Here you go!” She pushes a tape dispenser and scissors my way, and then holds up two rolls of wrapping paper. One is red, with polar bears in Santa hats sledding down a snowy mountain. The other is white, with metallic snowflakes of different sizes. I point at the nondenominational one, and she nods. “I thought that might be preferred,” she says, glancing down at the LED-light menorah.

“You’re a lifesaver, Pauline,” I reply as she slides the snowy roll my way. I gather the supplies and scoot over to the end of the desk so she can help the impatient man behind me who keeps sighing loudly.

I carefully unroll the paper, measuring out how much I’ll need. The even riiiip as the scissors slice through the sparkling snowscape is honestly therapeutic.

Operation Latke is working.

We’re fixing this.

Henry and I are fixing this.

Kristine’s right. We have always been a good team.

My hands are decidedly less steady as I fold the edges of the paper in to tape them together. I shrug it off as good enough, and slide the supplies back across to Pauline.

When I return to the cabin, Kristine waves me in, raising a finger to her lips for me to be quiet.

“Your mom is still mad,” she says softly, “but she’s in the shower. So this is perfect timing. Thank you again, sweetie.” Kristine gives me another hug, and I pass her the box before she slips back into their bedroom.

A few minutes later, I hear the paper tear open and the squeal escape from my mother’s throat, and I know we did good.

Henry puts his book down and comes over to me, his hand extended in a high five. My palm meets his, and even that one small touch sends an unwanted wave of goose bumps over my skin.

“Great idea, Gold,” Henry whispers, his breath warm against my ear.

Our parents come bursting out of their room. My mom is beaming, having unboxed the menorah. The sun is close to setting, and Mom decides it’s good enough, so we gather around, saying the prayer as she flicks the switches on each fake candle, watching with glee as the lights dance around like real flames.

“I think I was trying to hold on to the traditions that were important to your dad,” Mom says quietly to me at one point, while the rest of the group is trying to decide on dinner. “He always took celebrations fully to heart. That’s why you staying for all of Hanukkah has meant so much to me this year, honey. I wanted his memory to be a blessing in this new chapter, for all of us.”

I nod along, understanding. I feel Dad’s presence every time I participate in Jewish activities, from attending a Passover seder at a friend’s house in New York where we sang “Dayenu” until the end of time, to the simple act of buying challah at the deli. Even though none of us would ever think that my mom was trying to replace him with Kristine, I see where she’s coming from. Even if her menorah meltdown was a little misguided.

They decide to bring in pizza for dinner, and I try not to listen as Henry gives Hannah advice about some issue with a coworker, imagining what else our future could potentially bring.

* * *

Henry and I repeat our pattern from the night before: We watch a movie we used to love, this time with the couch bed fully extended. For comfort. We fall asleep together, again, and don’t even wake up intertwined.

This time, when I sneak back into the bed with Hannah, she rolls over immediately, scaring the shit out of me. This is the same girl who once slept through a smoke detector going off in our house.

“Interesting,” she hums as I get settled.

“What?” I ask, trying to play dumb.

“It’s three a.m., Nor.”