This is cataclysmically bad.
This has never happened before.
“F*ck,” I say out loud. “F*ck!” I say to the darkening sky.
Then I continue crawling over the icy rocks to my car. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me now. It’s time to do the thing I hoped I’d never have to do but I have a plan for nonetheless. It’s time to pull the trigger on Operation Rabbit Hole.
Chapter 29
The Scriptorium
William’s house was not what Sam had thought it would be. For one thing, it was on an actual island surrounded by a massive lake. At least there was a causeway to it, so she didn’t have to go by boat. At the end of the drive there was an iron gate with spikes, upon one of which was impaled a stuffed Peter Rabbit whose fur ruffled in the steady wind. Had William put it there? A warning to the Rabbit? To children? Whatwasthis place? Sam texted,Here!William didn’t answer, but the iron gates parted in the middle to allow her inside, the rabbit swinging on its spike, its flat black eyes tracking the sky as Sam passed.
And there, in the doorway of a house that looked like a ski chalet had a baby with a cathedral, was William. He was in socks and sweats, and—how had he grown a beard so quickly? Unlike his goatee, it was almost completely gray. Maybe he really had been suffering the loss of Sam. Or the shock of Cyndi. He came to greet Sam without even putting on shoes, his face red either from wind or crying, since his eyes above the bristling beard were full of tears.
“It’s you,” he said.
“It’s you,” Sam said.
He crushed her against him so hard she could barely breathe.
“Thank God you’ve come,” he said.
He took her hand and led her inside. The house was magnificent and scary. Its walls were all glass, offering a panoramic view of the lake. There was a double-sided stone fireplace that soared to the ceiling. Two worn leather couches faced each other as if in conversation, Pendleton blankets slung over their backs. Where there were slivers of wall, they were hidden behind bookshelves. Next to the mantel, an enormous black bear reared up on hind legs, snarling out at the room.
“Wow,” said Sam. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Ernest.”
“After Papa, I assume. He looks combative. Did you shoot him yourself?”
“No, I read him drafts until he died of boredom.” William laughed. He knelt in front of Sam to unlace her boots, now dripping on what was probably a priceless Turkish rug. “Welcome home, sugarplum,” he said, sliding off one, then the other, then her pants. “Zoop!”
He led her via spiral staircase to his bedroom, as beautiful and impersonal as a hotel suite, but they were too impatient to make it to the bed and got reacquainted on the carpet. Quick and rough and necessary, giving Sam rug burn and a sense of release. Was this all there was to it? Were they reconciled? Were they actually doing this? Could she relax now? She cried when she came and lay in stunned wonder afterward, blinking at the icy shimmer through the faraway clerestory windows. They had another quickie overlooking the yard, and afterward, cleaning up in the master bath with pine-smelling soap, Sam watched a doe step delicately across the ice outside and wondered if the deer had been responsible for the snapping noises she’d heard while she and William were making love—or was it other animals?
“Hi!” said William when Sam emerged. He’d been waiting for her, holding up his sweatshirt for her to wear. Sam wondered if this was a whole new William who, instead of being elusive, would follow her around puppylike all the time, and how she would feel about that. Right now, she liked it. He toured her down through the ground floor, all space and light and lake. The kitchen had a Viking range, granite countertopswith embedded fossils, a fruit bowl with actual fruit in it. A pineapple, a mango. A mango! thought Sam. The dining room was governed by an oak table that could seat twenty, crowned by candelabra almost as tall as Sam. A den with an Eames lounge chair, another woodstove, more piles of books. Skylights everywhere. It was all gorgeous, tasteful, and impeccable, and it made Sam deeply uneasy. It was all the glass. She felt—watched.
Sam shivered. “Are you cold?” William asked. He was holding the hem of her shirt, his shirt, like a child afraid to get lost in a department store. “I can add wood to the stoves—or turn on the boiler. Let me know if you get chilly.”
“I’m good at the moment, thanks,” said Sam. “And this place is gorgeous. But don’t you get scared, living out here by yourself?”
“Not at all. The isolation is the whole point of it,” said William. “Occasionally a fan figures out where I live and makes it to the gates. Hence poor Peter Rabbit out there—I keep meaning to take him down, but I think he makes quite a nice sentry, don’t you? Not to mention an effective warning to our special friend, if a little on the nose. But don’t worry. Nobody ever gets in.”
He opened a side door with a flourish. “Ta-da,” he said, “the Scriptorium!”
Sam stepped out into the open air—or so she thought at first. This room was a glass box. The walls, the roof: They were all invisible. Except for the flagstone floor and the card table and chair in the center, it was like being outside, in the drifts sloping to the vast white-and-gray lake, the dark density of forest on the periphery.
“Wait until you see it at night,” William said. “When it’s clear, the ceiling is a frenzy of stars. The floor’s heated. And this room’s a sauna when the sun’s out. Perfect for writing naked.”
“This is where you write?” Sam asked. “In the nude?”
“No, this is whereyouwrite in the nude,” William said, grinning. “At least, that’s my diabolical plan. Welcome to your new study!”
Sam gave him a raised-brow look. She tentatively approached thetable and stood resting a hand on it, testing the vibes. It was very sweet of William to have given Sam this space. But she had never written in a room like this. She preferred actual walls, and if she faced a view, she drew the curtains so she wouldn’t be distracted. So she could focus on only what was in her mind’s eye. This was so—exposed.
She turned to find William observing her with a frown. “Do you like it?” he asked. “As soon as you confirmed you were coming, I set it up for you.”
“It’s stunning,” said Sam sincerely.
