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She was too busy to see Leo. And he was probably too busy to see her, Shira told herself. Surely he had a lot going on. He’d made friends in his classes, she assumed. Or through work. Maybe he was even dating someone, like she was. Good for him and his imaginary girlfriend.

Hanukkah Party Day dawned drizzly and cold; every time Shira went outside, the wind tried to rip her scarf off. It was the perfect weather to stay indoors, wearing fuzzy slippers and luxuriating in how dry and warm you were beside the heater. That’s where they all sat, in a circle around the fireplace Shira’s family was too scared to light since the time they’d found out a bird had built its nest in the flue (everybody and everybird were fine, just a little smoky), going over preparations.

“Okay,” said Shira, consulting her handwritten list. Lists on her phone might be easier to share, but they lacked a certain panache. “Dad, you’re going to pick up the food at two. Make sure to count the trays and double-check everything against my order sheet before you leave, and make sure to arrange everything ahead of time so that anything that needs to be refrigerated actually fits in the fridge when you get home.”

Her dad nodded vigorously. “You know fridge Jenga is my specialty. I’m glad the deli reopened in time for the party. We can’t afford to lose another small business.”

“And we can’t afford another year of oil splatters and cleaning potato cement off the counter,” Talia muttered.

Shira ignored her and moved on. “Mom, you’re on drinks duty. Liquor store and grocery store for nonalcoholic beverages and mixers.” She fixed her mother with a piercing glare. “Stick to the list this year.”

“But the store-brand seltzer was on sale,” her mom protested.

“La Croix only,” Shira said firmly. “And Talia, you’re—” She squinted at the list. “Did you redact your list item?”

Talia said something in Russian. Or Hebrew. She’d started taking Hebrew classes last semester, as if she didn’t already have enough languages under her belt.

“I’m going to assume that was a sincere, heartfelt apology,” Shira said brightly. “Anyway, you can erase your list item from my paper, but you can’t erase it from your heart. Your job is to go pick up the doughnuts. Remember, the bakery closes at one on Saturdays, so you need to get there before then.”

“I’m busy,” Talia said, in English this time. For context, she was currently lounging so hard she was nearly falling off the couch.

“Yeah, okay,” said Shira, fighting not to roll her eyes, because then Talia would pitch a fit and refuse to help her cruel, mean sister. “Just make sure to get there by one. I saved the easiest task for you, all you have to do is give them my name and number. Everything’s prepaid. They should have our order waiting in the back.”

Talia slouched farther, her fingers brushing the flowered rug as she mumbled something indistinct. “Right, then,” Shira said, consulting the list, even though by this point she didn’t have to. “William and I are going to decorate and get the house ready. No using the guest bathroom starting now. Not even if it’s an emergency.”

“I expect the place to look like an art museum,” Shira’s dad said, standing and cracking his back. Shira’s parents had been saying they were going to get a new couch for years now, since she was in high school, and yet somehow every time she came home, there it was, the saggy, lumpy blue beast she’d grown up with. If couches could race, hers would definitely lose to the sleek white sectionals populating William’s parents’ house. “A Hanukkah art museum.”

“I’ll do my best,” William said seriously.

Shira’s dad slapped him on the back. “Great. Well, off to prepare the fridge. No, fridges. For an operation of this size and complexity, we’ll need both the kitchen and the garage.”

“And I’ll get to the grocery store before it gets crazy,” Shira’s mom said. “Though, honestly, it’s probably already crazy. On weekends, all hell breaks loose after eight a.m.”

They ambled off toward the hallway. Talia rolled off the couch. Shira winced, waiting for her to hit the ground, but her little sister popped right up like a jack-in-the-box. “Bye,” she said, darting after her parents.

Shira shrugged in her direction, then turned to William. “Okay, ignore what my dad said about the art museum,” she said. “Our goal is to make the place look like Hanukkah threw up all over it. I try to outdo myself every year, which gets harder and harder because every year I do a fantastic job. I’ve done most of our ordering online, but we can go stop by the party store in case they got in a surprise Mensch on a Bench or anything that says ‘Happy Llamakuh.’ ”

“I didn’t understand any of that, but sounds good,” said William. He pushed his shoulders back, which made them look especially broad in his forest-green sweater. “I’ll even leave my phone at home.”

God, she was weak, because that sentiment actually choked her up. She really hoped no tears would come out when she opened her mouth. “Wow. Okay. I really appreciate it.” As a smile spread over her lips, he reached out and brushed the bottom one with a finger, gentle as a butterfly landing. Heat shot through her; the only reason she didn’t lean into it and slip it into her mouth was because she could still hear her parents arguing over who was going to take which car in the other room.

“I’d do anything to see you smile,” William said. “I know I’ve had to work a lot over this vacation. We’ve got that big exhibition inspired by Calder coming up over the holidays, and I need it to be perfect if I want to be in the running for the next promotion.”

She tucked her cheek against his shoulder. He smelled like the lavender soap her mom stocked in the hall bathroom mixed with his usual spice and clean laundry detergent. “I know. It’s okay. Just think of today like a curation. Best Hanukkah kitsch wins.”

“Are there any good vintage stores around here? Mid-century kitsch beats kitsch from any other era, hands down.”

“There are, but they’re unlikely to have any Hanukkah stuff,” Shira said, lifting her head. Her parents had resolved their argument; her mom had won, as usual, and was taking the bigger car to fit all her purchases. Dad would need to drive home with knishes on his lap. “This isn’t a super-Jewish area. There weren’t a lot of other Jews in my school growing up. The only other Jew I was ever really close with outside of Hebrew school and the youth group was…” She trailed off before she could say his name. She couldn’t explain why, but somehow saying his name right now would feel wrong. Blasphemous. “Anyway,” she said. “Let’s go.”

An hour later, they were unloading glittery dreidel garlands and a maniacally grinning Mensch on a Bench from the trunk of their rental car, then stringing those garlands over the fireplace and debating the best place to hide the Mensch to make as many people jump as possible, the coat closet or the bathroom. William didn’t check his phone once as they arranged all the family menorahs in the front windows, draped the folding tables they lugged up from the basement in menorah-covered paper tablecloths, set out the chairs, and got all the serving plates and utensils ready.

She was comfortable enough in the work, in their busy hands, to broach a subject that had been on her mind for a long time. Still, she took a deep breath. “Do you ever get frustrated by how much you have to work?”

He shrugged as he strung a Hanukkah garland over the dead fireplace. “Not really. I love my job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

Well, that answered that. She waited for him to ask her what had prompted such a question, but he was focused on making sure the two ends of the garland were even. She took another deep breath. “I really like my job, but I don’t know if I can handle doing it forever.”

That got his attention. He taped up the second end of the garland, then turned to face her. “What’s bringing this on? Your show?”