Back at the apartment, he found no gift wrap in the drawer where he had expected it. He cut a clean brown grocery bag open along its seams and smoothed it with the side of his hand. The art set had sharp corners that threatened to tear the paper, so he slid a thin piece of cardboard beneath the wrapping. He tied the red string around the package, made an uneven bow, untied it, and tried again.
Marlo appeared in the kitchen just as he was hiding the scissors. "What are you doing?"
"Improving the structural integrity of a highly confidential object."
She considered this. "That sounds like a present."
"It could be a very tiny spaceship."
"Then I hope you made room for the pilot."
He laughed, and she ran into the living room before he could say anything more. She had spent the afternoon helping Mrs. Alvarez cut paper snowflakes, which now hung at varying heights from the curtain rod. Some were crooked, and one had a hole too large to survive another folding, but the window looked cheerful. Everett stood there long enough to understand that his daughter was making a home out of whatever materials she could find.
Their Christmas tree was a tabletop artificial tree with missing branches near the bottom. Clara had bought it during their first year of marriage, when they lived in a smaller apartment and believed they would replace it eventually. Over time, the tree had become a familiar member of the household, leaning slightly to the left no matter how often Everett adjusted its stand. Marlo had decorated it with construction-paper stars, bottle caps painted gold, and a string of lights that worked only after he repaired a loose connection.
They ate an early supper of baked potatoes, vegetables, and chicken that Everett had purchased on sale. Marlo insisted on placing an empty plate beside hers for the stuffed rabbit, which she declared was taking a break from carrots. After dinner they called Clara's parents, who lived several hours away and were dealing with health troubles that made holiday travel difficult. Everett saw the disappointment in Marlo's face when the call ended, so he invited her to teach him how to draw a reindeer.
His first attempt looked like a dog carrying two television antennas. Marlo laughed so hard that she slid off her chair, then patiently explained the difference between antlers and ears. He exaggerated every mistake until she forgot the cold and the distance between them and her grandparents. At bedtime she asked whether Santa would be able to find them despite the building's broken front light.
"He's been finding this place for years," Everett said. "And if he gets confused, Mrs. Alvarez will set him straight."
"She would," Marlo agreed solemnly.
He tucked the blanket around her and listened to her breathing settle. When he turned off the bedroom lamp, he saw the outline of her dream-house drawing taped above the desk. The green door was almost as large as the front wall, and the little dog was drawn with six legs because she had run out of room for its tail. Everett stood in the doorway for a long time, wondering whether a parent could fail to provide the life a child deserved and still give that child a happy childhood.