Winter Garden

The irony of that was not lost on Meredith. “Sure. ”

She hung up the phone and stared out her kitchen window at the darkness. On the wall beside her, the kitchen clock ticked through the minutes. For the first time, she felt the truth of this situation: she and Jeff were separated. Separate. Apart. She should have realized that before, of course, but somehow she hadn’t really owned it until now. There’d been so much going on at Belye Nochi that the problems in her own marriage had taken a backseat.

And suddenly she didn’t want to be here alone, didn’t want to watch some sitcom and try to be entertained.

“Come on, puppies,” she said, reaching for her coat, “we’re going for a walk. ”

Ten minutes later she was at Belye Nochi. She settled the dogs on the porch and went inside, calling out for Nina.

She found Mom in the living room, knitting.

“Hey, Mom. ”

Her mother nodded but didn’t look up. “Hello. ”

Meredith tried not to feel disappointed. “I’m going to start packing again. Do you need anything? Have you eaten?”

“I am fine. Nina made dinner. Thank you. ”

“Where is she?”

“Out. ”

Meredith waited for more, got nothing, and said, “I’ll be upstairs if you need me. ”

Dragging boxes upstairs, she went into her parents’ closet. The left side was Dad’s: a row of brightly colored cardigans and golf shirts. She touched them gently, let her fingers trail across the soft sleeves. Soon his clothes would have to be packed up and given away, but the thought of that was more than Meredith could bear right now.

So she faced Mom’s side. This was where she would start.

She went to the stack of sweaters on the shelf above the dresses. Scooping them up, she dropped the heap onto the carpeted floor. Kneeling, she began the arduous task of choosing, culling, and folding. She was so intent on her job that she barely noticed the passing of time, and was surprised when she heard Nina’s voice.

“Are you comfortable, Mom?” Nina said.

Meredith moved to the closet door, opening it just a crack.

Mom was in bed, with the bedside lamp on beside her. Her white hair was unbound, tucked behind her ears. “I am tired. ”

“I’ve given you time,” Nina said, sitting on the floor in front of the cold black hearth.

Meredith didn’t move; instead, she flicked off the closet light and stayed where she was.

Mom sighed. “Fine,” she said, turning off the bedside light.

“Belye nochi,” Mom said, turning the words into liquid magic, full suddenly of passion and mystery. “It is a season of light in the Snow Kingdom, where fairies glow on bright green leaves and rainbows swirl through the midnight sky. The streetlamps come on, but they

are decorations only, golden oases positioned along streets burnished beneath them, and on the rare days when rain falls, everything is mirrored in the light.

On such a day is Vera cleaning the glass cases in the elves’ great lost-manuscript chamber. She has asked for this work. The rumor is that sometimes the elves appear to those who believe in them, and Vera wants to believe again.

Alone in the manuscript room (in these dangerous new times, few scholars dare to ask about the past anymore), she hums a song that her father taught her.

“The library is to be quiet. ”

Vera is so startled by the voice that she drops her rag. The woman facing her is storklike: tall and rail-thin, with a beak of a nose. “I am sorry, ma’am. No one ever comes in here. I thought—”

“Do not. You never know who is listening. ”

Vera cannot tell if the words are a warning or a rebuke. It is difficult to recognize such nuances these days. “Again, I apologize, ma’am. ”