Chapter 6
The house went dark all at once, the hum of the refrigerator cutting off mid-cycle, the soft electronic glow from the microwave clock winking out, and for a moment the only light left in the whole downstairs was what little the fireplace still threw, low and orange and suddenly doing a great deal more work than it had been.
“Well,” Dani’s voice came from the top of the stairs, quick footsteps following it down. “That’s not great.”
“Generator should kick in.” Alex was already moving toward the utility closet, flashlight app useless on her dead-zone phone, feeling along the wall from memory instead. “Cass said it’s automatic.”
They waited. The house stayed dark.
“Maybe it needs a minute,” Dani offered, though she didn’t sound convinced, hovering close enough behind Alex that she could feel her there in the dark, a presence rather than a shape.
A minute passed. Then five. The generator, automatic or not, apparently had other plans, or the storm had taken it out along with everything else, and the two of them stood in the dim orange wash of dying firelight with a house rapidly losing whatever warmth it had left.
“Okay.” Dani exhaled, and Alex heard her shift into practical mode, the same unbothered competence she’d had folding into a yoga pose their first morning, like crisis suited her better than the awkwardness of the last two days had.
“So the generator’s not kicking on like it’s supposed to, which means no power, which means no heat and no Wi-Fi until it does. What do we actually have?”
“Firewood. There’s a full stack on the back porch, Cass keeps it stocked all winter.
” Alex found the flashlight in the utility drawer by feel, clicked it on, and the sudden beam cut a stark line through the dark, throwing both their faces into sharp relief.
“Candles somewhere in here too, I think. Emergency kit.”
“Blankets?”
“Linen closet upstairs. There’s a lot.”
“Good.” Dani took the flashlight when Alex offered it, their fingers brushing in the handoff, both of them pretending not to notice. “Which rooms actually hold heat once that fire’s the only thing we’ve got? Because I’m guessing not all four bedrooms.”
Alex thought about it, really thought, running through the house the way she knew it, walls and windows and where the cold always crept in first during the handful of winters she’d visited.
“Living room, obviously, it’s got the fireplace.
Kitchen stays reasonably warm if the oven’s been on.
Upstairs is going to be brutal without the furnace running. ”
“So we’re basically down here for the duration.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’ve got the fire.” Alex was already crouching in front of the hearth, rolling her sleeves up with the brisk, no-nonsense energy of someone who’d built a hundred fires in this exact spot over a decade of visits and had zero intention of watching someone else fumble through it.
“Cass keeps decent kindling in the basket, and there’s still enough of a bed of coals in there to work with if I move fast.”
“Look at you.” Dani hovered nearby, armful of blankets forgotten for a second, genuinely impressed despite herself. “Didn’t peg you for someone with actual outdoor skills.”
“I contain multitudes.” Alex fed kindling into the coals with quick, sure movements, blowing gently until the first real flame caught, then adding a split log at just the right angle, no wasted motion.
“Also my dad was a Boy Scout leader for a decade and made all three of us learn this before we were allowed to complain about camping.”
“Remind me never to underestimate you again.” Dani laughed softly.
“Please don’t. I worked hard for this particular skill set.”
They worked fast and mostly in silence after that, hauling wood in from the porch while snow blew sideways through the open door, dragging blankets and pillows down from the linen closet in armfuls, setting candles along the mantel and the coffee table until the living room glowed steady and warm despite the cold pressing in everywhere else.
Alex kept feeding the fire, patient and methodical, and Dani, watching her crouched in front of the hearth, found herself thinking that this, at least, felt easier than the stilted small talk of the day before.
A problem with an actual solution. Something they could do instead of something they had to feel.
It was well past nine by the time the house had settled into whatever version of comfortable was possible, both of them camped on cushions pulled onto the floor in front of the fire, blankets piled high, the candlelight throwing soft moving shadows up the walls.
“You’re quiet,” Dani said, settling back against the couch cushions with her knees pulled up, firelight catching the loose strands of hair that had come free of her bun over the course of hauling wood.
“Just thinking.” Alex pulled her own blanket tighter, watched the fire instead of Dani, which felt safer somehow. “This is nicer than I expected. The power going out, I mean.”
“Bold opinion from someone with no Wi-Fi and a dead phone.”
“I didn’t say I was thrilled about it. Just that it’s nicer than I expected.
” Alex glanced over, found Dani already watching her, something unguarded in her expression that hadn’t been there all through the careful, overcorrected politeness of the day.
“There’s something about not being able to check anything.
Not being able to leave, even in your head. ”
“Yeah.” Dani’s voice had gone quieter too, matching the low crackle of the fire. “There is something about that.”
Outside, the storm kept howling, indifferent and relentless, and inside, in the firelight, with no phone to check and no Wi-Fi to retreat into and nothing left to do but exist in the same small warm circle of light, Alex thought that whatever she’d been avoiding all day had just gotten a great deal harder to keep avoiding.