The party appeared, much to Maxine’s horror, to have divided itself according to fusty traditional roles. In one corner, Xavier’s two elder brothers nursed scotches with their father, who looked every inch the elder statesman with his slender face and tamed white hair and eyes like those of a Siberian Husky. Across the room, meanwhile, the wives were helping Mother set out the last of the serving dishes.

Maxine had every intention of following Xavier and inserting herself in the men’s corner, but Xavier’s mother just at that instant announced that dinner was served.

Noting that the place-cards stationed the spouses next to one another brought Maxine a small measure of relief. Xavier pulled out her chair, as did his brothers for their respective wives. Mrs. Whitlock, however, had to seat herself. Maxine found it strange that the father’s outdated views on gender she’d suspected upon entering the room apparently stopped short of chivalry. Both parents assumed the throne-like seats at either end of the table.

Maxine’s movements as she passed the serving china around were as stiff and unnatural as her smile, but as the evening wore on, she found, to her immense relief, that Xavier’s family was cheerier and looser than she’d assumed. His father asked interestedly about her job in human resources, about her background in drama. Several times the entire group erupted with laughter. Later, the discussion grew sombre and empathetic as the topic shifted to the violent unrest that was intensifying south of the border.

“Well,” Xavier’s father said, “let us hope the new year we’re ringing in tomorrow night brings better things to all.”

The party raised their wine glasses to this wish, and then Xavier’s mother began to automatically clear the dishes from the table and onto the wooden serving cart.

“Let me help,” implored Maxine. There came polite refusals, then polite insistences. Finally, Xavier’s mother half-suggested, half-commanded that Xavier take Maxine for a walk of the grounds.

*

Without, the night was cold and clear, which Maxine found refreshing after the house’s warmth and the bounty of food that had been served. Their journey had involved a turbulent flight, an overly complicated car rental at the airport, followed by a white-knuckle drive across the unploughed country roads that wound toward their terminus at the family estate. These factors, along with their unexpected early evening tryst, meant that Maxine hadn’t yet had an opportunity to fully drink in her surroundings.

The snowfall, which had caused great stress to her and Xavier earlier in the day, was now a source of magic; it padded the grounds like a pristine quilt, it muted what few night sounds there were out here, it even cast off the occasional glitter when the moon shone upon it at just the right angle.