Seven
Brodie closed the door of the schoolhouse’s mudroom door and stomped the snow from his boots on the coarse mat just inside, then dusted the snowflakes from his coat and hair. Just as he was about to open the main door to pop his head into the single classroom, April Fitzwater pushed it open, and he jerked back so it didn’t smack him in the face.
“Hi, Brodie,” she greeted. “Sorry about that. Come on in.”
“Sorry I’m late. I had a customer at the ski hill who wouldn’t let me get away.”
“No worries. You’re only five minutes late, and Brendan’s having fun coloring.”
Brendan was at his desk finishing up his coloring sheet of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. Brodie frowned. His son’s face was pale, and he was breathing through his mouth, sniffing frequently and so loudly that Brodie hea
