Barb shook Greg's shoulder gently. “Sweetie, wake up now.”

“Mommmmm, nooooo.”

Barb peeled down her younger son's blanket, explained to both boys a version of the story that she halfway believed. That she and Dad were going to Hawaii to visit Kim.

Her sons became attentive immediately, bombarding Barb with questions until Levon walked in, his face taut, and Greg, seeing that, shouted, “Dad! What's goin' on?”

Barb swooped Greg into her arms, said that everything was fine, that Aunt Cissy and Uncle Dave were waiting for them, that they could be asleep again in fifteen minutes. They could stay in their pj's but they had to put on shoes and coats.

Johnny pleaded to come with them to Hawaii, made a case involving jet skis and snorkeling, but Barb, holding back tears, said “not this time” and busied herself with socks and shoes and toothbrushes and Game Boys.

“You're not telling us something, Mom. It's still dark!”

“There's no time to go into it, Johnny. Everything's okay. We've just – gotta catch a plane.”

Ten minutes later, five blocks away, Christine and David waited outside their front door as the arctic air sweeping across Lake Michigan put down a fine white powder over their lawn.

Levon watched Cissy run down the steps to meet their car as it turned in at the driveway. Cissy was two years younger than Barb, with the same heart-shaped face, and Levon saw Kim in her features, too.

Cissy reached out and enfolded the kids as they dashed toward her. She lifted her arms and took in Barb and Levon, as Barb said, “I forwarded our phone to yours, Cis. In case you get a call.” Barb didn't want to spell it out in front of the boys. She wasn't sure Cis got it yet either.

“Call me between planes,” Cis said.

Dave held out an envelope to Levon. “Here's some cash, about a thousand. No, no, take it. You could need it when you get there. Cabs and whatever. Levon, take it.”