“I don’t even remember Christmas last year. It’s completely wiped. It might help to have other people around. You’ve been up at the lake a lot,” I said. “Weren’t you lonely without me?”

“Desperately. Did I tell you about the power outage?”

“Norma did.”

“Bad luck,” he said. “Being a newcomer, especially. Did not endear her to anyone.”

“It endeared her to you.”

He narrowed his eyes as if trying to bring me into focus.

“You always go for the underdog,” I said.

“Norma’s not an underdog.”

“No,” I admitted. “She’s not. Did she stop by the house?”

“She dropped in on all the south shore lots to explain. Grovel, actually. Everyone without lights got a bottle of wine.”

“Boys at the grandparents?”

“She had them with her. You can’t get mad at someone who has a cute kid on each hand.”

“Did you get to see their house inside?”

“Once.”

“What’s it like? I never went in.”

“Oh, it’s nice enough, but run-of-the-mill, wood-wise. Hollow doors. Click flooring. Very Home Depot for a high-end architect.”

“Maybe her husband’s not really an architect.”

“Oh well.” Robin grinned. “I say it’s great to see the rain forest being put to good use.”

“Did she come over to ours?”

“Once or twice.”

“Was it once or was it twice?”

“A few times. I don’t remember.”

“Why?” I persisted, feeling on my shoulder the symbolic restraining hand of my mother.

“Why don’t I remember?”

“Why did she come over?”

He shrugged. “Being friendly, I guess.”

To buy time, I ran my eyes over the hutch, an ugly fifties item of lacquered maple I had picked up at a garage sale. Robin regularly offered to replace it with something magnificent of his own making, but I took the view that not every piece of furniture in the house had to be tasteful. Besides, the top drawer of the hutch was where I always kept Maddy’s school photographs. On its uppermost shelf circulars, coupons, and mail accumulated in messy piles. Now these papers stood on end in a carved wood letter holder.

I lifted it down, tipped out the papers, and turned it on its side to examine the design of overlapping ovals that Frank Lloyd Wright used for his chair backs and room screens. I had last admired this object with Maddy in the gift shop at Fallingwater.

“I went while you were away,” said Robin. “I’d never seen it in winter before.”

I felt as though I had strayed close to the edge of a great height. “And you brought this back for me.”

“Yes.”

“That was so sweet.” I returned the holder to its shelf and sat down. “And what was it like in winter?”

“Magic. The falls were running but everything else was iced over. The stream had to force its way through the ice.”

“I always said I wanted to see it in winter.”