“They’re seventeen and nineteen now. They don’t let me kiss them anymore.” Janet smiled, but something sad lived in the corners of her expression. “Martin’s still in the back office. If you need anything, holler. Don’t stay too late.”

“Never do.”

The main door opened and closed, letting in a blast of December cold that made the plastic tree shudder. I listened to Janet’s footsteps fade down the hallway, then to the building’s heating system clank and wheeze as it struggled against the Vermont winter pressing against the windows. Outside, snow fell in thick, determined sheets, the kind that would turn roads into ice rinks by morning.