Early Warning

The two women stood up, and after a moment, Michael crawled into the tent, then Billy. Richie crawled in after them. They settled themselves, and Billy handed each one a comic book and a 7-Up. That was that, thought Richie. For now. But he was going to have to watch out, and not for Nedra. He looked around Billy at Michael, who was reading and touching the bump in the back of his head with his finger. No, Richie thought, he wasn’t sorry. It was a good thing he hadn’t been made to say he was.

—

THE NEW HOUSE HAD a long driveway, but Andy had already foreseen the blizzard and left the car at the end of it — all she had to do was wait for the plow and shovel it out. As soon as she got up, she pulled on her warm clothes and went out to check. The snow, still quietly balanced just where it had fallen, undisturbed as yet by wind or movement, was a work of art. She stood beside the car, staring around. Though she had never been one to make use of snow, like her brother, Sven, and the other Norwegian relatives, she had always appreciated it as a type of raiment, hiding, smoothing, brightening.

Inside, the call had come — no school. She prevented herself from mentioning snowstorms in Decorah — that time they were walking home, which normally took fifteen minutes, and so much snow fell just in that struggling half-hour that she and Sven had to take refuge in the house at the foot of their block, and be taken home an hour later by that neighbor boy — what was his name? — who pulled them on a sled. She said, “What are you going to do today, then?”

Janny looked up at her. “Can anyone come over?”

“In this weather? I doubt it,” said Andy.

“I think we should bake some Christmas cookies,” said Nedra.

“Spritz would be nice,” said Andy.

“I like those best,” said Janny.

“What about the boys?” said Andy.

“They will do what they do,” said Nedra.

“At least they have their own rooms now,” said Andy.

“When they need solitary confinement,” said Nedra.

Andy laughed.

Frank was somewhere. Andy couldn’t remember where. All she knew was that after Christmas she was expected to go with him to Caracas, take kisses on each cheek, and speak a little Spanish. And after that, he had told her, now that they were moved in and the decorators had finished their work, she would be expected to have parties, at least cocktail parties — catered, it was true, but still busy and invasive. Possibly she would talk to Dr. Grossman about that very thing today.

The plow had gone by when she came out again, and done an excellent, quiet job. It took her no time to shovel out the car, and quite soon, she was heading toward East Palisades, carefully but smoothly. Most of her neighbors were snowed in. East Palisades was fine, and when she turned south on the Parkway, she saw that everyone was moving along. The jam on the GW Bridge was a pleasant jam — the sun was shining now, and the Hudson, not frozen, sported glinting lozenges of thin, floating ice. Then she turned south on the West Side Highway, and from there, only five miles, however long it took. Since she had given herself an hour, she could take her time. Riverside Park was as beautiful as her own road had been, but in a bright, urban way, and plenty of people were out, walking in their furs and boots, smiling, enjoying the novel cleanliness.

When Dr. Grossman opened the door to Andy, she looked a little surprised — how had Andy made the trip on such a day? So Andy thought of telling her that old story about the snow: six inches in half an hour, an avalanche. Had they been frightened? She couldn’t remember, and Sven would not have admitted it if they had. She could say that they were layered and piled with bright-colored knitted hats and sweaters and mittens and vests and leggings and stockings — imagining it made her feel happy as she settled down on the couch.