Ice Cold (4 page)

She picked up the hotel phone and dialed the operator. “Can you connect me to the room of Douglas Comley, please?” she said.

It took four rings for him to answer. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” she said. “Does the invitation still stand?”

T
HE ADVENTURE STARTED OFF WELL ENOUGH
.

Friday night, the fellow travelers met for drinks. When Maura walked into the hotel cocktail lounge, she found Doug and his party already seated at a table, waiting for her. Arlo Zielinski looked like someone who had eaten his way through the Michelin guidebook—chubby and balding, a man with a hearty appetite and just as hearty a laugh.

“The more the merrier, I always say! And now we have an excuse to order
two
bottles of wine at dinner,” he said. “Stick with us, Maura, and I guarantee a good time, especially when Doug’s in charge.” He leaned in and whispered: “I can vouch for his moral character. I’ve done his taxes for years, and if anyone knows your most intimate secrets, it’s your accountant.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” asked Doug.

Arlo looked up innocently. “Just saying that the jury was
totally
rigged against you. They should never have convicted.”

Maura burst out laughing. Yes, she liked this friend of Doug’s.

But she wasn’t as sure about Elaine Salinger. Though the woman had sat smiling during the conversation, it was a tight smile. Everything about Elaine somehow seemed tight, from her skin-hugging black ski pants to her eerily unlined face. She was about Maura’s age and height, and model-thin, with a waistline to envy and the self-control to maintain it. While Doug, Maura, and Arlo split a bottle of wine, Elaine sipped only mineral water garnished with a slice of lime, and she virtuously shunned the bowl of nuts that Arlo was so enthusiastically digging in to. Maura could not see what these two had in common; she certainly could not imagine them dating.

Doug’s daughter, Grace, was yet another puzzle. He had described his ex-wife as a beauty, and her fortunate genes had clearly been passed on to the daughter. At thirteen, Grace was already stunning, a leggy blonde with arching brows and crystalline blue eyes. But it was a remote beauty, cool and uninviting. The girl had contributed scarcely a word to the conversation. Instead she’d sat with her iPod earpieces stubbornly in place. Now she gave a dramatic sigh and uncurled her lanky body from the chair.

“Dad, can I go back to my room now?”

“Come on, sweetie, hang around,” urged Doug. “We can’t be all that boring.”

“I’m tired.”

“You’re only thirteen,” Arlo teased. “At your age, you should be raring to rock-and-roll with us.”

“It’s not like you all need me here.”

Doug frowned at her iPod, noticing it for the first time. “Turn that off, okay? Try joining the conversation.”

The girl shot him a look of pure teenage disdain and slouched back in her chair.

“… so I scoped out all the possible restaurants in the area, and there’s nothing worth stopping for,” Arlo said. He popped another handful of nuts into his mouth and wiped the salt from his pudgy hands. He took off his glasses and wiped them as well. “I think we should just go straight to the lodge and eat lunch there. At least they have steak on the menu. How hard is it to cook a decent steak?”

“We just had dinner, Arlo,” said Elaine. “I can’t believe you’re already thinking about tomorrow’s lunch.”

“You know me, I’m a planner. Like to get my ducks all in a row.”

“Especially if they’re glazed with orange sauce.”

“Dad,” whined Grace. “I’m
really
tired. I’m going to bed, okay?”

“Oh, all right,” Doug said. “But I want you up by seven. I’d like to be loaded up and ready to leave by eight.”

“I think we should be off to bed, too,” said Arlo. He stood, brushing crumbs off his shirt. “Come on, Elaine.”

“It’s only nine thirty.”

“Elaine,” Arlo repeated, and tipped his head meaningfully at Maura and Doug.

“Oh.” Elaine cast a speculative glance at Maura, then rose to her feet, lithe as a cheetah. “It’s been nice getting to know you, Maura,” she said. “See you in the morning.”

Doug waited for the trio to leave, then said to Maura: “I’m sorry that Grace was such a pill.”

“She’s a beautiful girl, Doug.”

“She’s also got a good head on her shoulders. An IQ of a hundred thirty. Not that you could see it tonight. She’s not usually this quiet.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m coming along. She may not be happy about it.”

“Don’t even think that, Maura. If she has a problem, she’ll just have to deal with it.”

“If my coming along feels awkward in any way—”

“Does it? To you?” His gaze was so probing, she felt compelled to tell the truth.

“A little,” she admitted.

“She’s thirteen. Everything about thirteen-year-olds is awkward. I refuse to let that dictate my life.” He lifted his glass. “So here’s to our adventure!”

She returned the toast, and they sipped, grinning at each other. In the flattering gloom of the cocktail lounge, he looked like that college student she remembered, the reckless young man who’d scaled rooftops and donned ninja outfits. She felt young again, too. Daring and fearless and ready for that adventure.

“I guarantee,” he said. “We are going to have a great time.”

D
URING THE NIGHT,
it had started to snow, and by the time they loaded their luggage into the back of the Suburban, three inches of white fluff coated the cars in the parking lot, a pristine cloak that made the San Diego contingent ooh and ahh at the beauty of it. Doug and Arlo insisted on taking photos of the three ladies posed in front of the hotel entrance, everyone smiling and rosy-cheeked in their ski clothes. Snow was nothing new for Maura, but she saw it now the way these Californians did, with a sense of wonder at how clean and white it was, how softly it settled on her eyelashes, how silently it swirled from the sky. During Boston’s long winters, snow meant tiresome shoveling and wet boots and slushy streets. It was merely a fact of life that had to be dealt with until spring. But this snow seemed different; it was vacation snow, and she smiled at the sky, feeling as giddy as her companions, enchanted by a world that suddenly looked new and bright.

“Folks, we are going to have an
amazing
time!” Doug declared as he fastened the rented cross-country skis onto the roof of the Suburban. “Fresh powder. Charming company. Dinner by a roaring fire.” He gave the roof straps one last tug. “Okay, team. Let’s go.”

Grace climbed into the front passenger seat.

“Hey sweetheart,” said Doug. “How about letting Maura sit next to me?”

“But this is always my seat.”

“She’s our guest. Give her the chance to ride shotgun.”

“Doug, let her stay there,” said Maura. “I’m perfectly fine sitting in back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Maura climbed into a seat at the back of the Suburban. “I’m good right here.”

“Okay. But maybe you two can switch later.” Doug shot his daughter a disapproving glance, but Grace had already inserted her iPod ear buds and was staring out the window, ignoring him.

In fact, Maura didn’t at all mind sitting alone in the third row, right behind Arlo and Elaine, where she had a view of Arlo’s bald spot and Elaine’s stylishly clipped dark hair. She was the last-minute add-on to the quartet, unfamiliar with their stories and their inside jokes, and she was content to merely be an observer as they headed out of Teton Village and drove south, into the ever-thickening snowfall. The windshield wipers swung back and forth, a metronome sweeping away showers of snowflakes. Maura leaned back and watched the scenery go by. She looked forward to lunch by the lodge fire, and then to an afternoon of skiing. Cross-country, not downhill, so no need to feel the least bit anxious, no fears of broken legs or fractured skulls or spectacularly embarrassing falls. Just a quiet glide through silent woods, the swoosh of her skis sliding across the powder, the pleasant burn of cold air in her lungs. During the pathology conference, she’d seen far too many images of damaged bodies. She was glad to be on a journey that had nothing to do with death.

“Snow’s coming down pretty fast,” said Arlo.

“We’ve got good tires on this baby,” said Doug. “Hertz clerk said they can handle the weather.”

“Speaking of the weather, did you check the forecast?”

“Yeah, snow. What a surprise.”

“Just tell me we’re gonna make it to the lodge in time for lunch.”

“Lola says we’ll arrive at eleven thirty-two. And Lola’s never wrong.”

Maura called out: “Who’s Lola?”

Doug pointed to the portable GPS, which he’d mounted on the dashboard. “That’s Lola.”

“Why are GPSs always referred to as females?” asked Elaine.

Arlo laughed. “Because women are always telling us men where to go. Since Lola says we’ll be there before noon, we can have an early lunch.”

Elaine sighed. “Do you ever stop thinking about eating?”

“The word is
dining
. In one lifetime, you can eat only so many meals, so you might as well—”

“—make each and every one worth it,” Elaine finished for him. “Yes, Arlo, we know your philosophy of life.”

Arlo turned in his seat to look at Maura. “My mom was a great cook. She taught me never to waste my appetite on mediocre food.”

“That must be why you’re so thin,” said Elaine.

“Ouch,” Arlo said. “You’re in a weird mood today. I thought you were looking forward to this trip.”

“I’m just tired. You snored half the night. I may have to insist on my own room.”

“Aw, come on. I’ll buy you some earplugs.” Arlo slung an arm around Elaine and pulled her close against him. “Honeybun. Baby. Don’t make me sleep alone.”

Elaine extricated herself. “You’re giving me a crick in the neck.”

“Hey, people, will you look at this gorgeous snow!” said Doug. “It’s a winter wonderland!”

An hour out of Jackson, they saw a sign:
LAST CHANCE FOR FUEL.
Doug pulled in to Grubb’s Gas Station and General Store, and they all piled out of the vehicle to use the restrooms and cruise the narrow aisles, scanning the snacks and dusty magazines and windshield ice scrapers.

Arlo stood in front of a display of plastic-wrapped beef sticks and laughed. “Who eats these things, anyway? They’re like ninety percent sodium nitrite, and the rest is red dye number two.”

“They have Cadbury chocolates,” said Elaine. “Shall we get some?”

“Probably ten years old. Oh, yuck, they’ve got licorice whips. I got sick on those when I was a kid. It’s like we’re back in the 1950s.”

As Arlo and Elaine stood sniggering over the snack selection, Maura picked up a newspaper and headed to the cash register to pay for it.

“You know that’s a week old, don’t you?” said Grace.

Maura turned, surprised that the girl had spoken to her. For once, Grace wasn’t wearing her ear buds, but her iPod was still playing, the music issuing out a tinny whine.

“It’s last week’s paper,” Grace pointed out. “Everything in this store is expired. The potato chips are, like, a year old. I bet even the petrol is bad.”

“Thanks for pointing it out. But I need something to read, and this will have to do.” Maura pulled out her wallet, wondering how the word
petrol
ended up in an American teenager’s vocabulary. But that was just one more detail about Grace that puzzled her. The girl walked out the door, skinny hips swaying slightly in skintight jeans, oblivious to her effect on others. The old man standing behind the cash register gaped after her, as though he’d never seen such an exotic creature saunter through his store.

By the time Maura stepped outside again, Grace was already in the Suburban, but this time she was in the backseat. “The princess finally relinquished her throne,” Doug whispered to Maura as he opened the door for her. “You get to sit up front with me.”

“I didn’t mind sitting in back.”

“Well, I minded. I had a chat with her, and she’s cool with it now.”

Elaine and Arlo came out of the store, laughing, and climbed into their seats.

“That,” said Arlo, “was like a time capsule. Did you see those Pez dispensers? They had to be twenty years old. And that old guy behind the counter was like some character out of
The Twilight Zone
.”

“Yeah, he was strange,” said Doug, starting the engine.

“Creepy
is the word I’d use. He said he hoped we weren’t headed to Kingdom Come.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You people are
sinners!”
Arlo boomed out in his best televangelist voice. “And you are on the road to
Hay-ell!”

“Maybe he was just telling us to be careful,” said Elaine. “With this snow and all.”

“It seems to be slowing down.” Doug leaned forward to peer up at the sky. “In fact, I think I can see a patch of blue up there.”

“Always the optimist,” said Arlo. “That’s our Dougie.”

“Positive thinking. It works every time.”

“Just get us there in time for lunch.”

Doug looked at the GPS. “Lola says ETA eleven forty-nine. You’re not going to starve.”

“I already am starving, and it’s only ten thirty.”

The GPS’s female voice commanded: “Bear left at next fork.”

Arlo burst out in song:
“Whatever Lola wants …”

“Lola gets,”
Doug joined in, and he veered left at the fork.