Oh, right. You and your long-term plans, he jokes.
You mock me. But it’s how I like to live. I’m into goal setting and doing things with a purpose. Maybe it was weird when I first started at fourteen, but by now everyone should be thinking about their future.
What about your personal life? Isn’t that part of your plan too?
I consider his question. Maybe I’m too much of a romantic, but love is the one thing I’d like to fall into. I don’t want to have to scheme and plan. That’s why I don’t use dating apps, either. I’d rather meet in person and see if we have a spark. And it’s not just sexual attraction; that spark is something bigger—a magnetism between two people.
I shrug. Besides, I’m not interested in dating right now.
We’ll see, says Sinc skeptically as he rises to go. He reopens the cookie tin. Here, put away a couple for later. Andy’s chocolate chip cookies are life-changing.
I drive over to Cleo’s to pick her up for dinner. She comes out immediately, hops in, and starts talking before her seatbelt is even fastened. I welcome this new Cleo over the sullen version of our first drive. I suspect this is closer to her authentic self.
Hey, Mats. I have good news for you.
Please share. I pull out into the darkening evening as a light snow begins to fall.
We’re having roast beef for dinner!
I smile at her enthusiasm. How do you know this?
I called Geraldine. There’s this special kind of wool she needs, so I told her I’d order it online. Anyway, while we were chatting, she dropped the dinner menu on me: roast beef and roast potatoes. All things you consider to be food, right?
I won’t mark myself as safe until I see all the side dishes. But I am relieved. Last week’s hot dish took two days to work its way through my system. It felt like I was sweating out saturated fats.
Tonight’s dinner turns out to be almost all recognizable foods: roast beef, potatoes, peas, and carrots. Geraldine’s pièce de résistance is a tri-coloured jelly salad with bits of canned fruit suspended in it. That’s practically health food around here.
That was excellent, I say as we rise from the table, and Geraldine beams. It’s the witching hour of 7:15 when we need to leave.
But when we open the door, the landscape has been completely transformed. My SUV is cocooned in a fat layer of snow. Worse, the driveway is indistinguishable from the snow-covered lawn.
Fuck me, Cleo mutters.
Marjorie peers out. Well, there’s no way you can go home in this weather. The snow is continuing to come down, and the sky is dark and clouded.
I really don’t want to stay here overnight, so I wade out to the car and take a few ineffectual swipes at my windshield, with zero impact.
But we have classes in the morning, I protest. Monarch is such a small campus that most people walk to school, and we rarely get snow days.
I’ll call Pete and make sure he plows the driveway early, Geraldine says. There’s a middle-aged couple who look after the big jobs here.
I turn towards Cleo. She doesn’t seem too excited about spending more time here either, but her Midwestern chill is in full effect. She doesn’t panic easily. Doesn’t look too good.
So, we spend the evening with Marjorie and Geraldine. Turns out that they watch Jeopardy! together every night. Marjorie knows all the answers before the contestants. She’s so sharp that I suspect any bequests she leaves Monarch in her will won’t be realized for another twenty-five years.
Geraldine prepares a bedtime snack for all of us. I politely refuse the warm milk and cookies since I’m still full from dinner, but Cleo has both.
At 8:30, Marjorie declares it’s bedtime. You young people can stay up as long as you like, but keep the noise down.
You hear that, Mr. Noisy-Pants? murmurs the noisier one of us.
We’ll show you where you’re sleeping, Marjorie offers.
The two of them lead us upstairs. It’s the first time I’ve been to the second floor, and the craftsmanship of the house is carried on. I see the same gleaming wood floors and wainscoting, polished brass fixtures, and sparkling leaded glass. It’s not my personal taste, but the quality is visible everywhere.
Marjorie opens the door to a bedroom that features an actual canopy bed, all done up in gold and burgundy brocade. There’s a small armchair, two nightstands, and a dresser with a mirror. A threadbare Persian rug in red and gold tones covers the wood floor.
Wasn’t this bedroom in The Crown? jokes Cleo.
