Page 80 of Snowballed

“You look different,” I say.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Oh. I got a haircut. My mom thought my hair was way too long.” It’s still long but now it frames his face perfectly.

“How’s everything going there?” I ask.

“Really good. I’ve got lots to tell you when I see you. How’s everything on the farm?”

“Good. There’s been a ton of snow. I’ve been shovelling like crazy.” I peer behind him.

“What are you looking at?” Noah asks.

“I was just wondering what your room looks like.”

“I can show you.” He turns the camera around, and his dimly lit bedroom looks like a huge hotel room. There’s fancy furniture and bright sunshine leaks through the thick drapes.

“Wow. That’s beautiful. And everything is so spacious. How big is your bed?”

Noah laughs. “It’s a California king, of course.”

“For my California king.” I wonder what it was like to move from there to our farmhouse. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Brunch. Open our gifts. Big dinner tonight. I should get up soon because my brother’s only here for one more day. But he’s probably asleep too.”

“Did you go out together?”

Noah nods. “Yeah. Chi organized it all.”

He still seems a bit tired and out of it, so even though I’d like to talk for hours, I say goodbye.

“Oh wait. There’s something for you in the barn. I hid it in the fridge,” Noah says.

“Noah! We said no Christmas presents.” I feel terrible because I didn’t get him anything.

“Yousaid no presents. Besides, it’s not a big deal. Just little something for my sweetie.” It’s really hard to reconcile my impoverished boyfriend with this guy lying in a luxurious bedroom.

“Well, thank you.” I resolve to knit him a hat before he gets back. I’m not the world’s best knitter, but my mom can help me.

Noah smiles, and that’s another sight that warms me.

“I miss you,” I say.

“Miss you too,” Noah says. And then his face disappears.

I run downstairs and pull on my coat and boots. Katman follows me into the barn, hoping for a handout.

“Noah has spoiled you,” I say as I root through the fridge. Hidden at the back is a small paper bag. I open it and there’s a gift card that says, “Merry Christmas from Noah.” Inside is a box of Nannygoat’s Candies. Of course I know all about these goat’s milk caramels; I’ve recommended them as artisanal Vermont souvenirs. But I’m pretty sure Noah chose this gift for me because of the drawing of an adorable doe on the label. I eat one and enjoy the contrast of salt and sweet. Caramels are something I’ve tried to make, but they’re tricky, and they’ve never turned out that well. Maybe my side businesses would be more successful if I concentrated on doing one thing properly. But it feels like all the good ideas have been done. By the time I read about farm pizzas, a bunch of local farms are already doing it. I’ve never been a creative thinker, only a hard worker.

Katman nudges my hand, and I relent and give him some milk. “Merry Christmas from Noah,” I tell him. He raises his furry face which is now covered in milk. What a goof.

“Is that what you’re wearing for dinner?” my mom asks me when I come downstairs. She’s wearing a pleated paisley dress in crinkle cotton and her hair is pinned up.

“Of course not.” I turn around and go back upstairs. I find a pale blue shirt that’s wrinkled but apparently better than a red sweatshirt that saysGot Your Goat. Maybe Rocky is right, and I need to pay more attention to my appearance. Noah dresses way better than I do.

When I get back downstairs, I hear voices in the living room. My mother and brother are talking to a lean, middle-aged man.

My mother’s voice is fluttery. “Oh Carl, this is my daughter Zoe.”

He stands and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you, Zoe. I understand that you’re a hockey player like your brother.”

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