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it loose. I wedged it closed, but I’ll take a look at it from downstairs. Hi, Max—you being good?”
    “He’s been asleep, mostly—you woke him up. Have you seen or heard any updates on the storm?”
    “The weather forecasters are having a great time outlining disaster scenarios, but they’re paid to make news,” Seth said. “Why don’t we turn on the TV and check on the latest?”
    Meg flipped on the small television she kept in the kitchen. Not surprisingly all channels were running continuous coverage, and she watched in fascination, flipping among channels, as each outlined details of a storm that exceeded anything she—and they—had ever heard of.
    “Wow. They’re saying it could go on for another day, with record snowfalls. So, what now?”
    Seth smiled. “You want me to show you how to build a fire in your fireplace?”
    “Oh, goodie. Yes, please. You’re sure it’s safe?”
    “The biggest risk for chimney fires is when you have a buildup of creosote inside. Since nobody seems to have used this for years, and since I’ve already made sure there are no obstructions, I’d say we’re good. You do have a fire extinguisher, don’t you?”
    “Of course I do.” She noticed he was smiling. “Oh, you’re joking. Okay, big man, make the little woman a fire.”
    “Piece of cake,” he said. Coatless, he went out the back to the adjoining shed and returned with an armload of split logs and smaller pieces of wood for kindling. “Get the door, will you?”
    Meg obliged—and was shocked at how much colder the dining room was than the kitchen. She led the way through to the front parlor and stood and watched as Seth laid a fire.
    “You have any newspapers?”
    “I thought that was cheating.”
    “It’s not my favorite method, but they’ll do in a pinch. Yes or no? Otherwise I’ll have to start using those historic records you’ve been sitting on. I bet they’d catch fast.”
    “Don’t even think it. Yes, I have some newspapers. They’re even stacked up for recycling.” Meg went back through the kitchen and collected a stack of papers, marveling again at the differences in temperature. She returned to the parlor and thrust them at Seth. “Here. Will these do?”
    “Just fine, thank you,” he said, turning his attention back to the fire. In a couple of minutes he had a nice small fire going, and he watched it carefully to make sure the smoke was going up the chimney. Finally he said, “It’s drawing nicely. The old builders knew what they were doing. Of course, if this was your only heat, you kind of had to get it right. Now, close off the doors to the hall and the dining room to keep the heat in. We don’t have a whole lot of wood, and we don’t know how long this storm might last.”
    “Surely not more than a day?” Meg said.
    He shrugged. “I wouldn’t count on anything.”
    “This is kind of scary,” she said, shivering.
    “Why?” he asked. “We have food, heat, electricity, and companionship. What more do you want? Do you happen to have any oil lamps handy?” When she stared blankly at him, he went on. “I’ll take that as a no.”
    “You’re thinking we’ll lose power?” she said.
    “It’s possible. I think there are some old lamps out in the barn. The question is, is there any kerosene for them? Only one way to find out.”
    “What, you’re going out in that again?”
    “It’s going to get dark soon. It’s better to be prepared now than to fumble around later.”
    “By any chance were you a Boy Scout?”
    “How’d you guess? Look, you stay here and I’ll go check in the barn. I’ll take Max along—he probably needs to go, and he can burn off some energy.” Seth went back toward the kitchen, whistling.
    He was actually enjoying this! Meg stood in front of the fire as it began to cast some heat into the room, her arms wrapped around herself. She was pretty sure that the house would survive; at least she knew it was structurally sound. The barn? The roof