Bub pounded against Ben’s chest with one tiny fist.
“I’ll get the boys dressed then start the fires,” he said. Ben sensed that Caroline needed to hear something more from him in this moment—almost any bromide would do—but still, he couldn’t find the words she needed. He left her in the kitchen, staring at the granite counter.
Ben got the boys ready, got himself dressed, then started the fireplaces in the lounge, library, and dining room. His hands smelled like charred wood when he assembled the smoked-trout appetizers.
Caroline changed into a green velvet dress with a gold belt that matched her hair. She looked as if she’d stepped off the cover of a magazine, but she picked at her cuticles as she paced the halls. When she left the kitchen to light the candles in the lounge, Ben poured a measure of vodka into a water glass.
Outside, the snow fell. Several inches covered the ground, and the wind had already built drifts against the walls of the Crofts. The monochromaticity of the storm turned the contours of the Drop into an alien landscape.
Staring at the strange blankness of it, Ben decided he didn’t want to spend Christmas here after all. Not in this place where women froze to death, dogs vanished, and wives and sons turned into strangers. He’d tell Caroline tomorrow. They’d visit with Ted in the city instead of the other way around. Caroline would protest, but she thought only in time and money. Ben could no longer ignore the fact that every problem they’d come here to solve had gotten worse. Like the oblivious frog being boiled on a stovetop, Ben thought that maybe a week or two away from this place would give him perspective on just how hot the water around them had become.
You got everything you ever wanted, didn’t you, Benj?
Ben saw the flash of headlights pulling up the gravel drive. He finished his vodka and waited for the doorbell to ring. When it did, he listened to Caroline’s hurried steps to the front door.
He heard Lisbeth’s voice before he set eyes on her. He was glad that she was the first to arrive. Caroline was anxious enough, and Ben thought that Lisbeth would be able to put her at ease.
“…about the snow and everything,” he heard Caroline say.
“Don’t be silly, sugar. Folks around here have been itching to slap the chains on their tires for weeks. There he is now,” she said, seeing Ben. She pressed her palms against his face.
“No trouble finding the place, I hope?” he said. The cold of her hands brought the blood to his cheeks.
“Hundred and one laughs, isn’t he?” Lisbeth’s smile lit the hallway.
“Please let me take your coat,” Caroline said.
“Look at these floors!” Lisbeth said, looking down. She took in the walls and the foyer’s chandelier. “Everything is so beautiful!” Her compliments seemed genuine, but her face was drawn and tired. Ben wondered if she’d already been over to Tommy White’s place to lend comfort to him, the same way she had to the family whose farm had been repossessed.
Caroline started to leave with the coat, but Lisbeth stopped her.
“Wait, just stand next to each other,” she said. She nudged Caroline into Ben. “Closer.”
Ben put his arm around his wife. They posed like actors facing a photographer. An actor was exactly what he was, Ben realized as he donned his smile. When you came down to it, the language he spoke and the air he breathed was that of pretending.
Lisbeth looked them over and shook her head. “What lucky and beautiful people you are.”
Father Cal arrived next. When Caroline walked off with Lisbeth to get a bottle of wine, Ben lowered his voice to tell Cal about what happened to Mrs. White.
“How perfectly horrible,” Father Cal said.
“I hate to mention it at all, but when the others get here they might say something about it, so I wanted you to know.”
“Are you all right?” the priest asked him.
“She was a very nice lady. Caroline knew her better than I did, though,” Ben said. “But it’s still hard to process, because—”
“You were the last one to see her,” Cal said. He shook his head. “Another grim story for this old house.”
The doorbell rang again. Ben opened the door to find both the Stantons and the Bishops standing on the veranda.
The chief had shaved, and the skin of his face was tight against its bones.
“Please come in, everyone,” Ben said. “And sorry about the snow.”
“Don’t expect you to control the weather, Ben,” Mary Stanton said.
“If only all wives were as reasonable as you, Mary,” he said.
He introduced himself to Jake’s father, Henry. They’d spoken on the phone before but had never met. Other than their wide-set eyes, father and son looked nothing alike. Jake was tall and broad, while his father was short and wiry.
Ben brought the Bishops and Stantons to the lounge, where Caroline was showing Lisbeth and Cal the room’s architectural details. He tracked back and forth from the kitchen with drink orders, and on his last trip he came upon Charlie and Bub holding hands in the lounge doorway. Charlie wore gray pants and a black sweater over a white collared shirt; except for Ben’s tie, they were dressed identically. Bub was dressed for bed, in red pajamas with feet.
“Look who’s here,” Ben muttered to himself. He could hear Lisbeth cooing from down the hallway.