“They were caught shoplifting,” the policeman—the cop—said. “Or this one was.” He pointed to Nancy, whose hair projected in tufts from under the hood of the quilted jacket she herself had earlier found on the hook in the kitchen.

Nancy lifted her eyes now and looked her full in the face so that Joanie could see the plea there—and the guilt. “I was going to pay for it, I was—I just, I guess I just forgot, is all.”

“A compact,” the cop said, the snow rioting behind him. “Gary Kracik, the store owner? He caught them in the act.”

“If it’s a question of money—” she began but the cop held up a gloved palm to stop her.

“This is a quiet village,” the cop said, lecturing her now. “We don’t have any crime and we want to keep it that way. I don’t know what you people do here, and as long as it’s legal and it stays here, that’s your business. But when you break the law there are consequences.” The cop paused. He looked perfectly at home, as if he’d spent his entire life right there on the doorstep. He was watching her face to be sure she appreciated what he was saying, was heeding it, that is. “And who, exactly,” he asked now, “are you?”

“Joanie—Joan—Loney,” she said. “His mother.” And she was pointing now, to Corey, who still wouldn’t look at her.

“And you live here?” The cop peered beyond her into the depths of the house, where one of the guests in her shapeless white robe was crossing the hall for some reason—the bathroom? More wine? “Or are you just visiting?”

“Yes, I live here,” she said. “With my husband and the other members of our”—and here she stumbled, everything drifting on her in a hazy float of movement that seemed to mimic the snow—“research institute.”

“And these girls?” She saw now that he had a leather-bound pad in one hand, which he flipped open to consult. “Nancy Eggers and Lori Cunningham?”

“Yes, they live here too.”

“And you’re willing to take responsibility for them?”

She nodded.

The snow jumped and settled and gnawed at the sky. The woman in the white robe gaped at the little scene they’d put together for her there in the doorway but kept on walking till she disappeared down the hall. The cop said, “All right, then. Since Mr. Kracik doesn’t want to press charges and the kids are local—Millbrook High, right?—we’re going to let the matter drop.”