The department had been searching for a full-time mechanic for its engines since summer. Kyle started on January sixth. He cried in the truck the day he got the call. I lent them enough to catch up on the mortgage, and Brooke insisted on writing out a repayment plan, signed by both of them, before she would take a dime. They paid back the last of it in October, and Brooke hand-delivered the final check with a loaf of homemade bread.

The next December, Brooke called me herself. She had written a new list, and she read it to me over the phone. Come early. Stay late. Bring everyone. We hosted Christmas together at the fire hall that year, beside Howard’s brass plaque, with Mr. Brennan’s tablecloth on the head table. The auxiliary served ninety dinners. Grace stood on a chair and asked if this was the real Christmas. Brooke answered before I could. “Every one of them is, sweetheart.”