By noon the following day, the heavy snowfall had been replaced by bitterly cold sweeps of fine, sparkly snow that had the density of powdered sugar. By evening that too had stopped, although to Randy it seemed like no person and no thing were quite ready to believe the storm had passed. The world rested in complete silence; even the birds remained hidden. As the power had been restored with the daylight, there’d been no visit from Vaughn for the promised check of fuel levels, and that had been more disappointing than the idea of living a few more hours without coffee or television. None of the three younger O’Connells had ventured out to clear away snow or walk across the street to fetch Randy’s mail. That had more to do with the fact that the mail truck hadn’t made its way up their stree
