Hollis Father and I march in lockstep up to the small door beside the front gates. Early morning sunlight promises spring might actually arrive in the mountains someday soon, as soft and sweet as waking up to Candace slipping back into the room with a sheepish smile on her face. Low conversation and clattering from the far side of the wall make it impossible to forget what we’re walking into, though. Why we’re using a side door instead of the main one. Why Father’s heavy, furred ...