going to help me tie my shoe, or are we just going to stand out here until breakfast gets cold?
Vincent lifted his head. He looked down at the five-year-old with his mother’s crooked smile, then back at his sister, whose tears were turning into a wet, wondrous laugh of her own.
Vincent wiped his face with the back of his coat sleeve, and for the first time in twenty years, a bright, clear, effortless laugh echoed across the courtyard.
He dropped down to one knee on the frost, took the small red shoe in his hands, and carefully tied the laces into a double knot.
No, Ellie, Vincent said softly, his voice steady and full. Breakfast is not getting cold today. Come inside. Both of you.
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