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“Okay.” He lowered his head as if she’d already refused him.

“Why are you so down?” she asked, slipping her feet into fluffy, warm slippers. She reached for her silk robe at the foot of the bed as she led the way into the kitchen.

“When Mom says we’ll talk about it, that almost always means no,” Ricky mumbled, as he followed behind.

“I didn’t tell you no,” she reminded him, although that was her inclination. “When I said we’ll talk about it, that was what I meant.”

“Okay,” he agreed, but he didn’t sound overly optimistic.

Sage immediately felt a surge of guilt. She had no idea telling a five-year-old ice-skating was out of the question would be this difficult.

Sage opened the refrigerator and brought out two small containers of yogurt. The granola bars were in the small, mostly bare pantry. She set both down on the table. “Would you rather have the blueberry- or the key-lime-flavored one?”

“Blueberry,” he said. “I’m a fast learner. Mom taught me to skate; it was my birthday present when I turned five last June.”

Before Sage could answer, her phone rang with a number she didn’t recognize. Any other time she would have let the call go to voicemail. This morning, however, she was looking for a diversion and answered.

“Hello,” she greeted cheerfully, knowing the call was likely spam.

“Sage, it’s Maria, Ethan’s sister.” Her tone was remorseful, as if she was afraid Sage might still be in bed.

“Oh, hi.” This was a surprise, and a welcome one.

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked Ethan for your number.”

“Not at all,” she said, happy to hear from Maria. She’d liked Ethan’s sister immediately.

“I know it’s early,” Maria said, apologizing.

“It’s fine, both Ricky and I are up.”

“The reason I called is because Michael and Lilly have been after me all morning to see if Ricky could go ice-skating with them.”

Sage guessed there was no getting out of this now. The invite had been issued.

“Ricky mentioned that, too. I think the kids must have been talking about it over dinner last night.”

“I realize you might already have plans for the day.” She made it sound like a foregone conclusion that Sage would have made other arrangements.

“We don’t.”

Ricky’s eyes widened, and he slipped out of his seat at the table and folded his hands as if he was about to bow his head in prayer.

“Can we go, Auntie Sage? Please? I promise not to squirm in church like last week if you let me.”

Maria must have heard Ricky’s plea, because she laughed. “It seems Ricky is up for the adventure.”

“You could say that. Shall we meet you there?”

“Sure, that would be perfect.” Maria gave her the name of the rink and mentioned the cross streets, which were familiar to Sage. She’d driven past the rink dozens of times and had never once been tempted to return to the ice. Not after her disastrous lessons as a young teen.

After Sage disconnected the call, Ricky grabbed hold of her waist and squeezed hard. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” From his enthusiastic reaction someone might think Sage had handed him the key to a treasure box filled with Christmas toys.

“I’ll dress in my warmest clothes,” he said, ready to race into his bedroom and change.

“Hey, what about your breakfast?” she said, pointing to his untouched yogurt. “I thought you said you were hungry.”

“I was,” he insisted, “but now I’m too excited to eat.”