“You’ve worked in food service before?” Sam asked as they rose from the table.
Maggie raised an eyebrow, and he nodded to the neat stack of plates with tableware and crumpled napkins on top.
“Oh ... well, yes, I used to wait tables. I don’t know if Hester knew that when she put me on kitchen duty, but the old habits are definitely coming back.”
“I think what you’re doing is brave, you know,” Sam told her quietly as they left the restaurant, which was beginning to fill with sleepy vacationers.
“What is?” she asked, fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater.
“You know what I’m talking about. Wanting to make amends with the hotel. And everyone else.”
“I didn’t intend to be a thief, you know,” Maggie said very quietly. “I grew up in the lifestyle and never meant for it to happen to me.”
“When you say that you grew up in the lifestyle ...”
“My dad was a safecracker. I know, sounds like something from a movie, right? The real life version is a lot more sordid and less fun. He ended up in prison when I was a teenager. My mom basically died of a broken heart. So I was going to do better.” She was picking at her sleeve now, pulling on a loose thread. “I was going to get an MBA and have a nice, respectable, professional life. I put myself through school, and yes, I worked in food service and other jobs. I’m proud of everything I did back then. I’m just not proud of how it worked out.”
“You don’t have to tell me all this,” Sam told her softly. They were in the lobby now, and it was getting busier. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know. But I want to. I want you to understand, I guess.” She darted a look at him sideways with those faintly green-tinged eyes. “It’s not that I don’t consider myself responsible for my actions. I do, even if my magpie did it. But I never wanted to live like that, and I want more than anything to not live like that now.”
Sam’s hand drifted toward hers. “I know you?—”
“Dad!” Charlie called down the stairs from above them. “Hey, Dad. C’mere. Look at this.”
She was looking out the big windows at the front of the lodge. From the sweeping staircase, Sam had noticed before that there was a commanding view of the lawn and parking area. He and Maggie climbed up to join her, and Sam put his arm around his daughter, who was still gazing out the window.
Looking outside, he realized why the hotel seemed emptier than it should.
Now that daylight had come to the lodge, the pristine white snow on the lawn and under the trees was full of people (families, couples, and singles) enjoying the winter weather. But what was absolutely unique was that most of them were shifted.
A family of otters darted in and out of the snow, sliding down snow piles on their bellies and diving under to come up with delighted abandon. Two young monkeys and a bear cub were building a snow animal of some sort. A deliriously happy husky was running around and around in circles, occasionally flopping on its side to roll ecstatically in the snow and then bounding to its feet again. Birds, bats, and gliding creatures—a couple of sugar gliders and one flying squirrel—swooped and soared between the trees.
Some non-shifted parents and spectators watched, sitting on the porch steps or the tops of cars, and guarded heaps of snow clothes, coats, and boots abandoned by their owners.
Sam wondered if they were all simply shedding their clothes on the lawn, then noticed a few changing tents set up at one edge of the parking lot. These bore handmade signs: MEN, LADIES, FAMILIES. (This last with an added note: 1 AT A TIME PLEASE.) Now and then, an animal would go in and a clothed human come out, or vice versa.
Maggie nudged Sam’s arm. “I need to go change for work,” she said softly. “Good morning, Charlie. I hope you two have a good day.”
With that she was gone, darting up the stairs quickly and dodging to the side to avoid a large, chattering family coming down with snowboards.
Charlie turned to frown up the stairs after her.
“Did you have a good night, kid?” Sam asked.
“It wasn’t too bad. The bed is nice. What were you and Maggie talking about?”
“A few things went missing from the charity auction last night,” Sam said, and he felt his daughter go rigid. “Maggie didn’t take them.”
Charlie turned a frown on him. “Are you sure, Dad?”
“You’re the one who spent the entire night in the room with her. Did you hear her go in or out at any point?”
“Well ... no, but I had my earbuds in when I fell asleep.”
“You know that’s not good for your ears.”
Charlie gave him a little playful push, making him stagger, and he steered her firmly down the steps before the horseplay got more established. “Yeah, and I think you should be more careful. Have you heard about gold diggers, Dad?”
