Chapter 9 - The First Snowfall
The first real snow of the year blanketed Seattle on a Saturday morning in mid-December, transforming the rooftops and pine trees of the neighborhood into a silent, glittering winter wonderland.
Arthur woke up early, the house dead quiet except for the low hum of the central heating and the soft scratching of paws against his bedroom door.
He swung his legs out of bed, pulled on a thick wool sweater, and opened the door. The golden retriever puppy—now named “Barnaby” by a very decisive six-year-old—trotted in immediately, tail wagging like a helicopter rotor, pressing his wet cold nose against Arthur’s bare ankle.
“All right, all right, I’m up,” Arthur laughed, scratching the puppy behind his floppy ears.
He walked down the quiet hallway, passing Sophie’s bedroom. The door was wide open, and the bed was empty.
A familiar pang of protective instinct flashed in his chest for a microsecond before he heard the muffled sound of giggles coming from the front foyer.
Arthur walked downstairs and stopped at the edge of the living room.
Sophie was sitting on the floor by the front door, wearing her heavy pink snowsuit, struggling fiercely with the zipper of her winter boots. Her cheeks were flushed red from excitement, and snowflakes still clung to her dark hair.
She looked up, saw Arthur standing there, and beamed with pure, unadulterated joy.
“Daddy! It snowed! It really snowed!” she squealed, scrambling to her feet and running over to grab his hand. “We have to go outside right now! We have to build a snowman before the sun melts it!”
Arthur looked past her toward the front door, which was unlocked and slightly ajar, letting in a crisp, clean breath of winter air.
No locked doors. No dark pantries. No fear.
May you like
He smiled, dropping to one knee to help her zip her jacket all the way to the top.
“Well, what are we waiting for, Chef Sophie?” Arthur asked, pulling on his heavy leather gloves. “Let’s go build a fortress.”
