“They’re warm and they’re fed, and it’s not your doing either way,” Helen said.

The candles guttered, and she reached across and pinched one out with her fingers, and the room went a shade darker.

Outside, the snow started up again and came down past the window, over the salt, over the shovel I had left standing against the house, and settled in a wide clean sheet where the van had been parked.

I poured the tea and let it sit until it was cool enough to drink.

Helen raised her cup.

“To an ordinary dinner.” I drank, set the cup back in the saucer without a sound, and looked out at the long white driveway.

My house was finally quiet again.