Wilma stepped out onto the front porch and relished the warmth of the sun. As the door shut behind her, she put the worries of the household out of her mind and, beginning to imagine a theme from Beethoven’s Sonata Pathétique, determined to enjoy the beauty of the new spring, which was lovely even in a town as ugly as Pine Rapids. She knew John and Knute weren’t altogether happy to see spring arrive, since it meant the end of the cutting season in the forests, and huge payouts to the men who had labored for them logging all winter. This was the busiest time of year at the mill, though, and profits would follow once the felled trees had been processed.

In the distance upriver, Wilma could see the mill’s smoke, and she could hear its noises, too: the pounding of the logs being shoved about, the high whine of the saws, the shouts of men and the slapping sound of the planks being stacked one on top of another. The Bear Trap River had thawed in places and the slate-colored water sparkled as it tripped over icy rocks. Last week there had been a blizzard, but today all the snow was melting into the streets and the walks and the river, and, just as Wilma made her way down the porch steps, a robin hopped across the walk in front of her, then lifted itself in flight. The baby kicked in her belly. “Hush, now, baby,” she whispered, breathing in the spring-silver air. “We’re going downtown. Maybe we’ll order some spring dresses for Momma to wear after you’re born!” She was suddenly desperate for at least a glance at something really stylish, if such a thing could even be found in Pine Rapids.