As Everett collected his coat, the manager stopped him near the staff lockers. "Ms. Vale asked whether you had finished your shift. She wanted to make sure you got home to your daughter on time."
Everett looked toward the lobby. Serafina was gone, leaving behind only a neatly folded napkin and an empty tea cup at the table where they had spoken. He felt an inexplicable sadness that he would not have a chance to thank her again, then reminded himself that the conversation had already been enough. He had not told his entire story to anyone outside his small circle since Clara died.
On the bus home, he watched Christmas lights slide past the windows in blurred reflections. He was carrying a paper bag of leftovers the kitchen staff had offered at the end of service, along with the folded timesheet and the little business card Naomi's office had sent to his phone. He read the contact details twice, not because he expected them to disappear but because hope had become an unfamiliar sensation. It made him almost as nervous as bad news.
Mrs. Alvarez answered her door with flour on her sleeve. Marlo was sitting at the kitchen table beside her youngest son, decorating cookies with a concentration usually reserved for important architectural plans. The moment she saw Everett, she jumped off the chair and ran toward him, nearly overturning a bowl of colored icing. He caught her, lifted her carefully, and told her he had returned before the snowman could offer him another job.
"Was the hotel beautiful?" she asked.
"Very. It had lights everywhere and a tree taller than our building."
"Did you see Santa?"
"No. But I saw someone who looked like she had forgotten it was Christmas."
Marlo considered that. "Maybe nobody told her."
"Maybe not," Everett said.
They ate the dinner Mrs. Alvarez had prepared, and Everett contributed the hotel leftovers to the table. He tried to explain to his daughter why he was smiling more than he had that morning, but he was careful not to turn an inquiry into a guarantee. He said that a kind person had introduced him to people who might be able to help him find better work. Marlo asked whether better work meant fewer nights away from home, and he said that was exactly what he hoped.
After dinner she presented the drawing she had been working on. The yellow house had grown wider, with a kitchen window, a little staircase, and a garden full of red and purple flowers. She had added a man standing beside the front door, a little girl holding colored pencils, and a star above the roof. In the corner she had drawn a smaller figure sitting under a tree, but she did not explain who it was.
"That's us," she said, pointing to the man and the girl. "And Mom is the star so she can find us wherever we go."
Everett swallowed. "It's beautiful."
"Do you think we could plant flowers one day? Real ones? I would water them even if I had to wake up early."
He sat beside her and studied the careful lines. "I think we should keep that plan," he answered. "And if we're lucky, we'll have a chance to try."