“Mom!” Kate stormed down the stairs, descending so quickly and weeping so wildly tears flew off her face. Maggie, though clear across the great room, took an automatic step back. Linnie caught the small hurricane, and Thomas and Wren closed in with pats and tuts and soothing murmurs.

Sam gave the gathering a sour glance. With his wooden spoon, he swatted down the few remaining strands poking out of the pot.

“Jesus, Sam,” Linnie breathed, holding Kate close. “What did you do to her?”

Sam slapped the spoon on the counter. “What kind of question is that? What do I ever do but love her and take care of her?”

An implied condemnation hovered in the lull that followed. Linnie, stricken, dropped her gaze. Kate, still sobbing, adhered herself to her mother’s legs. Linnie touched the small shoulders, then crouched to pull her daughter into her arms. Wren and Thomas discreetly looked away, then shuffled to the couch.

After a moment of hesitation, Wren smoothed the cushion at her side. “Come on over here, you two. Come sit with me.”

Sam’s dad held up a slice of bread. “Want a little snack, honey? I can get you some butter and jam…”

“No!” Kate wailed into Linnie’s hair.

Sam growled and slammed the pan onto the stovetop.

Maggie felt like a pointless prop in an otherwise meaningful play. She sidled along the wall to the front door, which had been left slightly ajar, then widened the crack and let the cold touch her face. Snow was falling again, a thin weaving of it, like a net ensnaring the evening air. Veiled by the weather, the lake spread black and vast. It held a stillness, a curious quality of patient expectation. She peered around the side of the house and, in the waning twilight, made out the Saab. Kyle wasn’t sitting inside it. Linnie must have borrowed his car. Maggie shut the door.

Over Kate’s sobbing, Linnie was saying to Thomas, “… just got back from Caleb’s when she called my cell. I could hardly make out her words, she was crying so hard, but obviously, I came right away.” She cast Sam a defensive glare.

He made a face at the minced garlic he was stirring around the pan.

“Daddy’s making me leave,” Kate wailed. “Two whole lakes that way!” She pointed to the towering windows overlooking the lake.

Linnie slowly shook her head, confused. Then she, Wren, and Thomas turned to Sam with frowns.

Sam poured a good half bottle of white wine into the pan, where it hissed, boiled, and spat, then he added the cutting board’s piles of chopped ingredients. He stirred once and finally faced the others.

Kate sniffed loudly.

“Does this have to do with your exciting news?” Thomas asked.

Sam smiled bitterly, probably over his father’s choice of adjective. “School of the Art Institute of Chicago offered me a full ride.”