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Alyson had been heartbroken for her when Stephanie told her about it, and Jean had said she wasn't surprised, it was no worse than the dozens of indiscretions Fred had committed over the years. All it did was confirm Jean's belief that all men were cheaters given the opportunity, and Bill was no better than anyone else. “You can make him pay for it if you stay,” she teased Stephanie, but she was sad for Stephanie that it had happened. It had shattered Stephanie's illusions about Bill and their marriage, and made it hard if not impossible to feel the same about him again. They had gone to marriage counseling, Stephanie finally agreed to continue their marriage, and the children were aware that something terrible had happened between their parents, but Stephanie had never told them what it was. She didn't want them hating their father because he had cheated on her. She didn't think that would be fair to him. Jean was outraged when Stephanie told her and thought that they should know, but Stephanie had spent twenty years creating the illusion for them that their father was devoted, concerned, honorable, and above reproach. She didn't want to expose him to their children as the cheater he was, nor damage their relationship with him, although her relationship with him seemed to be destroyed beyond repair when he moved home again.

After the two-month separation, things had never been the same again. They were more like roommates under one roof. She believed that they loved each other, out of a sense of history, if nothing else, and they had children together, but there were no longer any obvious demonstrations of affection, and she no longer complained about how little they saw of him. Before, he had been busy, but now there was a chasm between them that neither of them had been able to bridge. And she never fully trusted him after he returned. They still had sex, but it was infrequent and lackluster. She felt it was an obligation since they had decided to stay married, and he made love to her because he knew he should. Their relationship had never been passionate, but it had been friendly and warm in the early years, and adequate after that, but all desire had gone out of it for both of them by the time they got back together.

Stephanie knew the young lawyer had left the law firm six months after the affair, but she no longer cared. Bill was still her husband, but he would never again be her best friend, or someone she was even close to. They had nothing to say to each other anymore, except about the kids. She kept him informed of their progress in school and college, and when Michael and Louise got their first jobs. Louise had recently moved to New York to work for Sotheby's in the art department. They talked about practical matters, but never about their feelings for each other, or his affair, which stood like a wall between them. She had been sad about it for a long time, but now she simply accepted it as the way marriages were after this many years. And his infidelity with the young lawyer had left irreparable scars. But Stephanie had never wavered from her decision to stay with him, for the kids, and Bill had been adamant about wanting to stay married to her. He didn't want a divorce. They were a family, and he wanted to stay that way, however impaired their marriage was.

It had been particularly lonely for Stephanie when Charlotte left for college at NYU, and even more so now that she was doing her junior year abroad, in Rome. Stephanie and Bill had gone over to see her in January, and she was having a ball. She was going to be there until June, come home for the summer, then go back to NYU. Stephanie could hardly wait till she got home. She was toying with the idea again of finding a job herself. With all three kids gone, she desperately needed something to do. She had worked on several benefit committees, but she had been bored planning charity events and raising money, and wanted more to do. But her brief fledgling career after college was a dim memory now. She had opted for family instead of career, and now the kids were all away. It made for some painfully quiet nights when Bill was working late, and awkward ones when he was home. They had so little to say, other than the news she shared about the kids. He never called them himself, but they all called her to check in. And the only evenings Bill and Stephanie really enjoyed together now were the ones they spent with their friends, the Dawsons and the Freemans, and the trips they had taken together for years. Then she could chat with the women, and Bill could hang out with the “boys.”

All six of them were good skiers, although the three women took it easy, and the men were always competitive with each other, particularly Brad and Fred. Bill was less so and a more relaxed skier. They took the black diamond trails, while the girls took the gentler runs, and they met for lunch at the base, and went to good restaurants at night.

Stephanie was looking forward to a day of skiing with Alyson and Jean as she zipped up her parka, and walked into the living room of their suite to find Bill. He looked trim in a black parka and ski pants, with hiking boots. He had left his ski boots in his locker at the lift, with his skis and poles, where she had left hers as well. Stephanie was wearing a white ski parka, with her long blond hair in a braid, and a pale blue knit cap. She was carrying her goggles and gloves as she glanced at Bill.

“Ready?” He nodded and followed her out of the room. At breakfast, they talked about the weather and he read the newspaper. They walked out into the winter sunshine and covered the short distance to the shuttle to take them to the lift. The other two couples were staying at a hotel at the base, which was new. Bill had wanted to stay at the same hotel where they always did, and didn't mind the shuttle to get to the lift. The others were already waiting for them with their skis on, and Bill and Stephanie hurried to put on theirs. They put them on side by side, and Stephanie started to say something to him as he began to move toward the men. He turned and glanced at her with a serious look. They rarely smiled at each other anymore. It didn't occur to either of them, they weren't even aware of it.

“Have a nice run,” she said softly. She had meant to talk to him about renewing Charlotte's traveler's insurance, which was about to expire, but had forgotten to mention it over breakfast. She could always talk to him about it that night. All of their conversations were about practical matters, like roof repairs, a problem with a tree in their garden, or something for one of the kids. She never shared her private thoughts with him anymore, and hadn't since the affair. What was the point? They were no longer close.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling this time, “you too.” There was no touch of the hand, no kiss, no hug, no tender words. They weren't part of each other's emotional landscape now. She had learned to live without it, and she always wondered if he was having another affair, or when he would. Their relationship had been inadequate and sterile now for seven years. And with that, Stephanie shoved off on her skis to join her two women friends.

“Cute hat,” Jean said, admiring Stephanie's pale blue knit cap, which was exactly the same color as her eyes. Jean was wearing a big fox hat, and a trim beige ski suit she had bought in Courchevel. She was always beautifully dressed. She had the time and could afford to be, and she went shopping constantly. She was the best dressed of the three friends, and her nails were exquisitely manicured with bright red polish when she took off her gloves. Alyson never wore any and had given up manicures, since her children were small, and Stephanie had gotten out of the habit years before. She dressed simply and practically and didn't try to look sexy or cute to Bill. Those days were over, and had been for seven years. Stephanie was wearing the pale blue ski pants she had worn for ages, only the white parka was new, and she had actually borrowed it from Louise, who had left it when she went to New York. Alyson was all in red with a red knit cap and her dark hair tucked into it.

The three women rode the chair lift together, and they could see their three men already far ahead. They hadn't lost time getting on the lift, anxious to hit the trails. The girls had taken time to adjust their goggles and hats, pull on their gloves, and get on the lift holding their poles and dangling their skis. The women could have followed the same tough trails as their men, but didn't want to. They preferred a more leisurely run. The boys were already gone when they got off the lift, chatting about their kids. Stephanie was telling Alyson all about their trip to Rome, and the weekend they'd spent in London on the way back. Bill had clients there, and Stephanie had had time to shop. Jean commented that they were going to Europe in a month.

All three women skied down the mountain gracefully, and stopped here and there to admire the view and talk, and then skied on again.

“God, the weather is gorgeous,” Stephanie said, admiring the scenery on one of their stops. Squaw was busy that weekend, but there seemed to be enough space for everyone. There was at least a foot of fresh powder since the day before. It was harder to ski in, but they had fun on the way down, and enough time for another run. It was almost noon when they reached the base for the second time, and decided to wait for the boys for lunch. They always stopped at noon, and went to the better restaurant, before skiing all afternoon.

“For an old broad, that wasn't bad,” Jean congratulated herself after their last run. She was a fabulous skier, and in terrific shape. And Stephanie was in good shape too. Only Alyson was slightly out of breath and complained that she was getting to the gym less often because of the kids, and she had gained a few pounds over Christmas.

They stood chatting for half an hour, waiting for their husbands, and Jean looked annoyed as she glanced at her watch. It was a rose gold Rolex Daytona that Fred had given her the year before. “What the hell are they doing?” And then she rolled her eyes with a familiar expression she often used when talking about Fred. “Probably picking up girls on the trail.”

Alyson looked upset the moment she said it, as she always did. “Brad doesn't do that,” she defended him.

“And they ski too hard to pick up women,” Stephanie said with a grin. “They're more interested in showing each other up than chasing women,” she said practically, and all three laughed. But they'd been waiting for more than half an hour when Jean suggested they go to the restaurant without them, and wait for them there. She wanted a Bloody Mary and was tired of waiting. She almost had the other two women convinced when out of the corner of her eye, Stephanie saw Brad and Fred following a ski patrol sled, with three members of the ski patrol around them. Both of their men looked serious, and the only one missing was Bill. She saw a form under the blanket on the sled, and without stopping to say anything to her two friends, she skied toward them. Jean and Alyson exchanged a glance and followed her. And as soon as Stephanie reached them, the ski patrol stopped and Stephanie bent quickly to say something to Bill on the sled. His face was hidden by the blanket, and before she could remove it, Brad grabbed her arm and stopped her. The look on his face spoke volumes, and there were tears in his eyes.

“Steph, don't…” She looked from him to the others, and she could see that something terrible had happened before they said a word.

“What happened? Is he okay?” she said with a look of panic, reaching toward her husband again, but Bill hadn't moved.

“He collapsed while we were skiing,” Brad explained in a tense voice, looking stricken. “I think he had a heart attack. I gave him CPR until the ski patrol came. I couldn't revive him,” he said with tears in his eyes as he looked at her.

“OhmyGod.” She popped her skis off and knelt on the snow then, wondering why they weren't doing anything to help him, and when she pulled the blanket back to see him, he looked like he was sleeping. Brad shook his head at the two other women then, and they instantly understood. Alyson's eyes filled with tears as she looked at her husband, and Jean was shocked as she glanced at Fred, and he shook his head too. Stephanie was still kneeling on the snow, holding Bill in her arms, but it was obvious that he was dead. Brad put an arm around her then and helped her stand up, and told her he hadn't suffered. He said Bill had died instantly, as Stephanie stared at him in disbelief.

“That can't be…he's fine…he doesn't have a heart problem. He had a checkup last week.” As though saying that would cancel what had just occurred, but it didn't.

“That happens sometimes,” Brad said gently. The ski patrol slowly led the sled away toward the first aid station, as Brad held Stephanie and she began to cry. This couldn't be happening, she kept thinking to herself. It wasn't true. Bill was fifty-two years old, he couldn't be dead. She tried to think of what he had said to her that morning when he went off with the others. Not “I love you,” or any tender words, just “Thanks” when she wished him a nice run. He hadn't kissed her goodbye, she hadn't tried to kiss him. It hadn't even dawned on her that something could go wrong and she'd never see him alive again. All he said was “Thanks,” and now he was dead. She felt like a robot as she walked into the ski patrol station with the others. They had taken Bill inside on a stretcher by then, and put him in a small private room. One of the men from the ski patrol led her in, and she stood next to Bill, looking at him, unable to believe what had just happened. The man she had once loved and been married to for twenty-six years was dead. They hadn't been really happy in seven years, but they had stayed together. They loved each other in a quiet unspoken way. They expected to be together forever. He was the father of her children…and now he was dead. Stephanie just stood there looking at him, and gently touched his face as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Alyson went to their hotel to pack for them, and check them out of the hotel, while Stephanie stayed with Bill, and Jean, Brad, and Fred were with her at the ski patrol station. Fred and Brad filled out the necessary papers, and signed the accident report. And Brad spoke to the head of the ski patrol quietly about making arrangements to have Bill taken to the city by ambulance to the funeral home there. Stephanie heard it all from a great distance, and everything around her was a blur. She stared at Jean as though she didn't understand.

“How could that happen?” she said for the tenth time in an hour. She looked as though she were in shock, and when the ambulance came, Stephanie couldn't stop crying. Their marriage hadn't been perfect, and they hadn't really been happy in a long time, but she had loved him, and she never expected him to die. They had wasted so much time being disconnected from each other after the affair. It was as though he had burned the bridge that linked them, and she had never been able to connect with him again. And now he was gone.

The two couples stood making their driving arrangements to get back to the city. Jean said she would drive Stephanie down in their SUV, while Fred went alone in his new Ferrari, and Brad and Alyson went home in Brad's Porsche. They had left the Mercedes station wagon for the kids and the au pair. For the Freemans and particularly the Dawsons, their cars defined who they were. Stephanie didn't care and drove a four-year-old SUV.

“Are you okay?” Jean asked gently as she helped Stephanie into the car. Stephanie was deathly pale. She got in seeming confused, like someone who had been ill for a long time. She kept thinking about Bill that morning, and a thousand mornings before this, and all the things they hadn't said to each other. And how was she going to tell her kids? She'd have to tell them on the phone, since all of them were in other cities, and now they had to come home. “Do you want me to call the kids?” Jean offered as Stephanie shook her head, staring out the window and seeing nothing, and then she turned to look at Jean.

“We never really got back together, after…after what he did. We just pretended, but it was never the same.” Jean had known that without Stephanie admitting it to her. It had been obvious to anyone who knew them.

“It doesn't matter,” Jean said quietly as they drove away toward the city. “You loved each other. Those things are hard to recover from.”

“I went back to him for the kids…but I loved him too. I just didn't trust him anymore. And Bill was never good at talking about things, so we never did after a while. He didn't want to, and I didn't either. We just kept putting one foot in front of the other and doing all the things we had to do.” But the joy had gone out of their marriage seven years before, or maybe long before that. She couldn't remember now. Whatever it had been, or had once been, or never was, it was over now.

Jean couldn't help wondering what she would feel if Fred died now. Sad, probably. Their marriage had been a sham for so many years, but she was used to him. She liked to say to her friends, somewhat tongue in cheek, that their marriage was a genuine fraud. But in some ways they cared about each other, no matter how disappointing it had been.

“I'm sure he always loved you,” Jean tried to reassure her, whatever she believed, which was colored by her own view of men. “Men just do stupid things. Fred has been an idiot for most of our marriage. He started cheating on me even before our kids were born, and I was young then. He figured I wouldn't know.”

“Why did you stay with him?” Stephanie asked, turning to her with a dazed look. She was still in shock, but talking to Jean was helping her try to stay focused on some kind of reality. Jean was the life preserver she was clinging to.

“I still loved him in those days. It took me a few years to get over it, but I did,” she said with a wintry smile, and Stephanie laughed. Jean was so awful about Fred, but most of the time the way she said it sounded funny. But it couldn't have been easy to live with, any more than Stephanie's situation with Bill was, after the affair. At least he had never cheated again, that she knew of. All those thoughts kept racing through her head as they drove down from Tahoe. She was grateful that Jean was driving. She couldn't have made the trip on her own, she was too distracted, and stunned. It all felt unreal.

They got to the city in just under four hours, Jean parked the car in front of Stephanie's garage on Clay Street, and followed her inside. They left the suitcases, skis, and poles in the car. And Bill's boots were back there too. The ski patrol had taken them off before they sent him to the city in the ambulance, and had gotten his hiking boots from the locker. Stephanie had put them on him herself with shaking hands before they took him away.

She stood in the front hall, after they walked in, and looked at Jean as though she were lost, and didn't know what to do. But she knew. She had to call her kids. She went out to the kitchen, and sat down on a high stool next to the phone. She normally knew their numbers by heart, but suddenly couldn't remember them.

She called Charlotte in Rome first. It was two in the morning for her, and she didn't want to call her any later, but Charlotte needed to know so she could come home the next day. There was shocked silence at the other end of the phone when Stephanie told her, a long pause, and then a long sharp scream. Jean could hear it from across the room. Stephanie sobbed as she talked to her and tried to comfort her, hating the fact that she had to tell her such terrible news over the phone without having her arms around her. She told her daughter to get the first plane home, and use her credit card for the ticket. Stephanie had given her a high enough limit on the card that she could always buy a ticket home if she needed to. She had just never expected it to be for something like this.

“Let me know what flight you're on,” she told Charlotte, who was her youngest, at twenty. She was much too young to lose her father. Stephanie had been in her forties when she lost her parents, which had seemed too young too. But at twenty, it was brutal. And Bill was only fifty-two. Who could have expected this to happen? And he had been in such good health, or so it seemed. As she had told Brad, his annual physical the week before had turned up nothing.

Charlotte was still crying piteously when they hung up, and Stephanie tried to catch her breath as she continued crying too. Jean handed her a glass of water.

“How is she?” Jean asked, looking worried.

“Awful,” Stephanie answered simply, and pressed Michael's number. He answered on the first ring. It was Saturday night, and he was home, cooking dinner for some friends, with his girlfriend. It was already eight-thirty at night in Atlanta, he said they were barbecuing, and his mother could hear music in the background. She told him the news as gently and directly as she could, and his voice was shaking when he asked her, “How are you, Mom? Are you okay?”

She couldn't speak for a minute, then said, “How soon can you come home?” She could hear that he was crying when she asked him, and then he said something muffled to someone standing next to him.

“I'll catch the red-eye tonight,” he said, trying to sound strong and manly for her. “Have you told the girls yet?”

“I just called Charlotte. I wanted to tell her before it got any later, so she can catch a flight in the morning.”

“Poor kid,” but poor him too. Poor all of them, Stephanie was thinking. Bill hadn't been an ideal father, but he was the only one they had. And they were too young to lose him. And whatever his failings, he was someone they could rely on. Now all they had was her. The thought of it made her shudder. Everything rested on her now. It was awesome and terrifying being the only parent, no matter how competent she was. This was much worse than during their separation.

“I'll call Louise in a minute,” she said wanly. “You don't have to come home tonight, Mike. You can come home tomorrow, I'll be okay.”

“No, I want to,” he said, still sounding tearful. He was twenty-five years old, and suddenly the only man in the family. “I'll see you in the morning, Mom,” he said. He had to get off the phone if he was going to make the flight.

And then she called her middle child, and older daughter, Louise, in New York. She sounded confused when her mother told her.

“What?” She was sure that she had heard wrong. What her mother had just said sounded insane to her. Stephanie told her again, and this time she began crying and couldn't stop. It was a long time before she could say anything to her mother. “How? That's not possible. He's so young, Mom.”

“I know. I don't understand it either.” But the doctor at the ski patrol confirmed that it had been a heart attack.

They talked for a few minutes, and Louise said she would take the first flight out of New York in the morning. And then Stephanie turned to look at Jean. The first of the horrible tasks was done. Now all her children knew. Stephanie felt as if she'd been hit by a bus, as Jean handed her a cup of tea.

“Why don't you lie down for a little while? There's nothing you need to do right now. The kids have been told. You can deal with the rest tomorrow. I'll come over first thing and help you.” And then she asked, “Do you want me to stay here tonight?” Stephanie thought about it and then shook her head.

“I'll be okay,” she said sadly. She didn't really want anyone staying there. She wanted time to think. So much had happened. She hadn't been able to absorb it yet. Nothing made any sense. She was sure that Bill would walk in any minute, and tell her it was all a joke. But the look on her friend's face told her it was all too true.

They went up to her bedroom and talked for a while. And then Fred rang the bell. Jean let him in, and he brought Bill and Stephanie's suitcases and skis inside and left them in the hall. He didn't know what else to do.

And finally, around eight o'clock, Fred and Jean left and went back to Hillsborough. Jean promised to come back in the morning. And Alyson called several times that night, and offered to come over. But Stephanie knew the au pair had gone home, and she had no one for her kids. She promised to come in the morning too.

It was the longest night of Stephanie's life. She couldn't sleep. All she could think about was Bill, and what had gone wrong between them for all those years. Suddenly she felt guilty for not working harder to forgive him and repair the damage, but he hadn't either. They had been two lost people, treading water for seven years, after the ship went down.

Jean was back at eight-thirty the next morning, and Alyson showed up shortly after. Stephanie was working on the obituary, and she called the funeral home. She had to go in to pick the casket and make arrangements, plan the funeral, pick programs and meet with the minister at the church, and call the florist. There were so many things to do. Between the three of them, they got most of it organized by ten that morning. And as soon as they did, Michael arrived, he hadn't been able to get on a red-eye the night before, and both women went downstairs, while Stephanie and her son cried in each other's arms.

Louise arrived an hour later, from New York. And Charlotte was due to land at one. Jean stayed to do whatever she could to help, and Alyson went home to her kids, but promised to come back later.

And when Louise walked in, she sobbed in her mother's arms about what an amazing father Bill had been. Jean said nothing but couldn't help noticing that in death Bill had become a saint, to his children at least. She couldn't imagine that Stephanie was thinking the same thing.

Michael went to the airport to pick up his younger sister when she arrived from Rome, and by three o'clock all of Stephanie's children were home, all looking shell-shocked and mourning their father. Jean went to the funeral home with her to pick the casket, and then they went to the church to meet with the minister. It was Sunday, and they set the funeral for Tuesday, at three p.m. The obituary Stephanie had written was to run the next day.

“There's so much to do,” Stephanie said to Jean as they drove back to the house, “my head is spinning.”

“Let me call the florist for you,” Jean offered, and Stephanie nodded, looking dazed.

“Do we need to call people and tell them?” Stephanie asked her, not sure what to do.

“Just call his office tomorrow. Everyone will read it in the paper.” Stephanie nodded. Her children were waiting when they got home, and Jean went back to Hillsborough, promising to return the next day.

The four of them had dinner in the kitchen that night, and sat for hours afterward talking about their father, as Stephanie listened to them tell stories of what a hero he had been, and what a great father to them. There was a disconnect somewhere, she knew, but she couldn't locate it just yet and didn't want to. They sat there late into the night, alternately crying and singing his praises, and then finally everyone went to bed. Stephanie had never been so exhausted in her life. Half the time she was in searing emotional pain and the other half she was numb.

The next day was more of the same, with more details to take care of. Everyone at Bill's office was shocked, and all of his partners called Stephanie. Jean went shopping and arrived with dresses for them to wear to the funeral, and miraculously everything fit. None of them had had properly serious black dresses to wear for a funeral, as the bereaved family of the deceased.

The day of the funeral dawned gray and rainy. Jean had called a caterer to be there when people came to the house after the service. And three hundred people trouped through their house, as Stephanie stood pale and brave and her children cried all day.

She was finally alone with Jean for a few minutes after everyone left, and she stared at her friend in shocked disbelief.

“Everybody loved him so much. They all have stories about what a great guy he was. I never knew he had that many friends.” Stephanie looked confused as she lay on her bed, and Jean sat down in a chair across the room.