The snow that started so delicately, like a sift of sugar from the sky, began to fall with brutish intention. Daniel shivered. The washed-out winter sun was setting, rush hour was stoking the city into its evening frenzy. Daniel wanted, needed to get the 6:32 bus to Toms River. He’d come into the city to find his wife a treasured, one-of-a-kind antique ring. It threw a bewitching sparkle from its place beneath display lights in a West Village shop window. They saw it the night he had surprised her with reservations to the Spotted Pig, the little restaurant where they’d met. She had liked the date night at first. But the drinks and that text he’d foolishly answered (while she was at the table) made her remember other text messages and things she mistrusted about him. That night devolved into cold silence. 

As he tucked the jewelry store bag into his coat, he searched for the Uber he’d summoned. Gridlock all around him. He stared into his phone and the app; his driver would be Raul. “C’mon, Raul,” he whispered. But the six minute-ETA he’d seen on the screen the last time he had looked, was now eight minutes.  

“Christ,” he moved along the avenue to a shop with an overhang. The snow started to nest in the back of his neck like the clutch of a frozen hand. He shuddered. He had to get home on time tonight.  

“You’ll be here, right?” She said that morning. “You’re not going on one of your secret excursions, are you?”  Were tears thickening her voice? Why must she hold onto the wrong things he did and forget about all the other things? A thick heaviness pushed on his chest.  

He shuddered and scanned the smear of red brake lights, snow bit into his cheek. Horns groaned. Engines sighed. The smell of hot chocolate and roasting peanuts sifted up, and he tilted his nose to the street. 

“Of course, I’ll be here,” he assured her this morning. His breath quickened as he checked for Raul on the tiny map on the screen of his phone. 

Being late would spoil it for them all. She would begin the evening with her eyebrows etched, angry, suspicious. And that would be it. She would ruin it for the children. All he wanted was to make this night, their night to trim the Christmas tree, happy so when the kids hugged him goodnight, they would look at him with love but more than that, with admiration, believing in him. 

He looked at his phone again and opened the app. Now it said nine minutes!  Jesus. He huddled closer to the shop window and glanced inside where people were calm and happy, perusing sweaters and Christmas ornaments. That’s when he saw her. A small young woman with large eyes and short cropped curly blonde hair. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from where he stood, but he could sense an expression of discernment, intelligence. She was reaching for a tree-like display of hats. She plucked a bright green fedora, donned it, and turned to the mirror, which faced Daniel’s view of her from his place at the shop window. Cute he thought, but it didn’t do her fine features justice. He shook his head involuntarily. To his surprise, she noticed this, and nodded sheepishly. She reached for an oatmeal-colored fluffy pom-pom hat. He watched as she adjusted it. Now she seemed self-conscious as she looked at herself but then looked over to see if Daniel was still watching. He was. Together they shook their heads disapprovingly. She laughed at this, and Daniel surprised himself by smiling. His cell phone showed him that Raul was still nine minutes away. He closed his eyes, calming himself. What could he do? The bus was leaving in 23 minutes. His wife was making a lasagna. He had requested a lasagna! She’d expect him to be effusive about the meal. He pictured her grimacing, her shoulders hunched over the pan, her hair pulled back the way she always pulled it, making the fine broken strands stick out like a petrified crown. 

He looked into the window again. This time the small woman tried a daring felt Panama hat. He surprised himself by laughing. This one was adorable but much too big for this diminutive woman. Her smile seemed to reproach him for laughing at her. Then she reached for a teal velvet cloche. When she put it on, Daniel could tell her eyes were blue. The hat framed and lit up her face. He couldn’t help himself. He nodded with approval and a warm smile, openly complimenting her beauty. Her eyes asked, “really?” He nodded yes, “absolutely stunning.”  

He held her with his eyes for a bit longer than was appropriate, stranger to stranger. But her gaze fed him, calmed him.  

An old couple pushed open the shop door then. Daniel noticed they appeared excited, amused as they juggled their packages. The man had deep smile lines around his eyes and mouth, the woman had a round, doughy face and wore a grin. The man held the door open for Daniel. Daniel could hear the happy Christmas music inside; he felt a waft of warmth. 

When his cell phone began to ring, he glanced at it. Not recognizing the number, he silenced the phone and stepped inside.

Marie DeNoia Aronsohn—leads strategic communications initiatives at Barnard College and recently earned her MFA in fiction at Columbia University’s School of the Arts. She is an Emmy-award-winning TV journalist with a vast body of work. Her experience includes producing, writing, and reporting for major media outlets including NJTV, WCBS-TV, CBS, MSNBC, MSNBC.Com, WNET, and NJN. Marie has also served as a professor adjunct of writing at Rutgers University and a development professional with a track record of raising multi-million-dollar philanthropic gifts. Marie led communications at Columbia’s Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory and has written dozens of articles about climate science.