Hours

As they stood on the veranda to leave, Sylvie moved forward to hug Carter’s daughter, but Enith stepped deftly so she faced only her father.

“Good night, Dad,” and without looking Sylvie’s way, she called, “Night, Sylvie.”

Carter smiled at Enith just as his other daughter, Charlotte, approached him and Sylvie. He opened his arms and said, “You ladies will have to come to our house for dinner. Sylvie makes an excellent scampi.”

Enith looked toward Charlotte briefly as they stifled smiles.

“Sure, Dad,” Charlotte responded. “Sure. You guys drive safely. It’s cold out here.”

Sylvie lingered a moment longer, hoping either of his daughters might embrace her, but both women turned away, closing the door quickly behind them.

“Ready?” Carter turned to his wife, his arm firmly around her small shoulders. She leaned into him, into the solidness of him that she so cherished.

On the way home, snow began falling. As it fell more rapidly, Carter turned on the wipers and squinted at the road. “I should have called my driver tonight.”

“It’s nice you let him stay in with his family.” Sylvie sighed. “People need breaks sometimes, you know?”

“I suppose.”

After a few moments of silence, Carter looked over at his wife. “Is something wrong, hon?”

“It’s just…your daughters. They make me feel so cheap. Every time they look at me…I wonder is my dress too tight or too short, did I say something out of line? I know what they think of me, and…” Her voice wavered.

Carter nodded. “I think the marriage was a lot for them. They never expected someone my age to remarry, and especially to someone so young. It’s understandable.”

Sylvie patted Carter’s hand, and he took it and kissed her palm without taking his eyes off the road.

Carter cleared his throat before saying, “They don’t think love is possible. They’re not like you. Or me, really. They’re protective of the family business. It’s their passion, their blood.”

When their house appeared, Carter pulled into the circular drive and handed his coat and keys to the housekeeper.

“Glad to be here,” he said, opening the doors to their suite. “Even happier that the fire is on.”

Sylvie hung her coat up and tugged her wig off. Putting it on the stand, she sat at her vanity table. Carter came over and kissed the top of her head.

“Look there, tiny baby hairs.” He tickled her scalp. “See?”

His wife put her hand on top of her bald head. “Promise me…when the time comes…you know, promise me you will make sure my wig is on.”

“Let’s not talk…”

“Promise me, Carter. It just makes it all more bearable.”

“I promise, but those new hairs? Maybe they know more than we do. Maybe they know there’s a future we can’t see or know.”

“I hope so.”

Sylvie reached for the tray that held her medicines, and as she did, a cold gust from beneath the door shivered into their bedroom.