I paid eleven dollars for four bowls of vegetable soup and got the boys back into the car before the mountain pass closed.

By nine thirty that night, snow was falling in thick, quiet sheets over the rental cabin in Aspen.

Sam sat near the stone fireplace in the living room, his wire-rim glasses reflecting the yellow firelight as he worked through a page of algebra problems.

I set up the portable ironing board by the sofa and plugged in the steam iron.

The quiet heat of the iron filled the room with the smell of warm cotton as I smoothed the lapels of the first navy blazer.