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losing the perfect family image he cultivated so desperately, Charles might come to realize how important it was to look deeper than just the surface.
    But somehow Judith doubted it.
    â€œWE’LL ALL HAVE ASSIGNED CHORES,” Charles said, pushing his half-eaten plate of food away. He bent over the list that lay next to his plate. Anything to avoid the flat expression in his wife’s eyes.
    â€œI’ll keep the fires going. Alex will keep a path open to the car.” He looked up at his silent son. “I’ll help you clear the driveway.” Then his gaze shifted to Jennifer. “You will be responsible for breakfasts and lunches. That includes washing dishes, too.”
    â€œBut Dad! That’s not fair!” Jennifer cried. “Alex gets to play in the snow but I get all the cruddy work.”
    â€œEveryone keeps their own rooms neat and their beds made,” he went on, ignoring her outburst. “You’ll do dinners, Jude. Now, have I forgotten anything? Oh, yes, we’ll all decorate the Christmas tree. Together. And we’ll all go out tomorrow to pick one out and chop it down.” He looked around at his family, willing someone to break the awful silence.
    â€œCan I be excused?” Alex didn’t wait for an answer but scraped the chair back, nearly toppling it as he stood up. Jennifer was quick to follow. The one grabbed his earbuds and phone, and retreated to the window seat he’d claimed earlier as his own. The other made a beeline for the television, rapidly flipping channels until she found something to watch.
    â€œLower it, stupid!” Alex shouted.
    â€œTurn up your so-called music, stupid, ” Jennifer retorted.
    Charles suppressed an urge to send them both to their rooms. Instead he stood up and began stacking the dishes. “Let’s wash them together, okay?” He glanced briefly at Judith, then back at the dishes. He was so scared that his hands were shaking, but his very fear drove him on. He would not let their marriage end, no matter what she said. Somehow he would relight that spark. Somehow he would make her remember all the reasons she had once loved him. Long ago, before the children had been born, they’d washed dishes together every night. Although he didn’t expect his gesture now to win her over completely, he at least hoped it would be a start.
    If he could simply hold his emotions at bay he knew he could succeed. It was just like closing a deal with a reluctant seller. Bit by bit, point by point, as long as he was careful and thorough, and never gave up, he could make this sale. He’d retrieved enough deals from the brink of disaster to know it could be done. But only if he remained calm and in control of himself.
    That would be the hardest part.
    â€œWell,” he prompted her with a determined smile. “Are you going to relegate me to dishpan hands all alone?”
    When she met his gaze with a forced smile of her own, he didn’t know whether to be relieved or let down. “Do you want to wash or dry?” she asked.
    â€œWhatever you say.” He bobbled a glass but quickly caught it. “Maybe we can find a radio station playing Christmas carols.”
    The kitchen was sleek and efficient, with just enough natural wood to prevent it from appearing completely austere. The sink was a gleaming white three-bowl affair with the very latest in oil-rubbed bronze fixtures. It wasn’t designed for washing dishes by hand, for there was no provision for a dish drainer. Dishes were meant to go directly into the dishwasher. But Charles found an old-fashioned square drain rack in one of the lower cabinets and positioned it in one of the sinks. Two dish towels lay in the back of a drawer.
    â€œI’ll wash,” Judith said as she filled the sink.
    â€œDo you want gloves?”
    â€œNo.”
    He watched as she placed dishes in the hot soapy water. Her hands were so graceful; they always had