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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