Monday morning the girls went back to school. Karen poured them two glasses of cold milk and buttered a pile of bread. She combed the knots from their silky hair and helped them into navy dresses. When she buttoned the second twin’s coat, she tapped a fingernail against the child’s thin wrist. “You’re not a doll, are you?” she said. “You’re not made of porcelain?”

The girl blushed—two circular pink spots engulfed her milky cheeks. “My girls are so pretty,” Karen said.

As they made their way out of the door Karen grabbed her winter coat and a pack of Ralph’s cigarettes, even though she hadn’t smoked since college. “I’ll walk with you,” she said.

It was a short walk, only to the corner, but the biting air felt good to Karen. Her lawn was powdered with thin patches of snow and the street had rivulets of slush. There were a few other children at the bus stop. Two were in the twins’ grade and one was a year younger. Mary, mother of the younger one, stood in a black wool jacket that tied around the waist, making her look thin despite the layers.

Karen brushed Mary’s arm. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mary replied.

Karen took the cigarettes from her pocket. “You know,” Mary said, “it’s my day to wait. You don’t have to be here.”

“I know,” Karen replied and held up the cigarettes. “Ralph doesn’t like me to smoke in the house.”

She shrugged and Mary nodded. Karen realized then that she didn’t have any matches. She dug deep in her pockets, feeling the wads of used tissue and a bundled pair of cotton gloves, knowing there was nothing else. “I should quit, though,” she said, looking at the pack in her hand.

Mary nodded again.

“I guess the snow has started,” Karen said.

Mary turned to her. “Do you mind?” she said. “If you’re here, do you mind if I go back in the house?”

“No . . . no,” Karen replied, flustered.

Mary gave her son a quick kiss on the head and dashed away. Karen watched her retreat.

One of the children, a boy with missing front teeth, tugged on Karen’s coat. She smiled down at him. “Missus?” he said. “Are you in love?”

Her twins stood behind him, watching, giggling into their mittens. Karen touched the boy’s warm soft cheek. “Of course,” she said to him. “Of course I am.”

The boy ducked away, grinning.