My four sons lined up in a quiet, orderly row beside the mahogany desk, their matching blue wool coats buttoned straight and their dress shoes polished clean.

Ethan stood frozen beside the tall bookcases, his eyes moving over his four sons as if he were seeing them for the very first time under the full light of the chandelier.

“We’re going back to our rental cabin down the valley,” I said, looking squarely at Richard and Margaret.

“Grace, please,” Margaret said, getting up from the rug and taking a step toward me.

“It’s nearly eleven o’clock, and the mountain passes are frozen over.