After they were dressed, they walked outside into the snowstorm. Stone held one of Cameron’s hands within his own and gently squeezed it through their gloves. He pulled Cameron with him, into the front yard, which looked like a white-gray canvas in the bright moonlight, accented with spiraling snow.
Near the mailbox and Messgrove Avenue, Stone told Cameron, “Sit down in the snow with me?”
Cameron shook his head, stumped because of Stone’s instruction. “What the hell are you making me do?” Then he let out a solid laugh, obviously having the time of his life.
They plopped down in the seven inches of snow, sitting side by side.
Satisfied, Stone said, “I once read this in a Robert Riley book.”
“Which one?”
“Falling Powder. It was about skiing and an accident. Some critics called it a bad
