It was morning, technically.Somewhere up beyond the flurrying gray, the sun was shining.Down in the storm, though, it was dark enough that Jem was grateful for the emergency lights spaced out along the path.
He was shivering before he reached the first sign.
“Left,” Tean said next to him.
The doc had his arms folded, his shoulders hunched.Snow hung in his thick hair and glittered under the emergency lights.
“I thought you were going to get the coats.”
Tean shook his head and went left.
It was good luck that number twenty-seven was the first chalet they came to; Jem’s ears and the tip of his nose were already numb, and his cheeks felt hot in a way that he knew meant trouble.The chalet itself was a shifting shadow in the snow, bone-gray stone and dark wood, the silhouette ruined only briefly when the flurries thinned enough for him to make out the satellite dish mounted on the side.The windows were dark, with snow drifting along the sills and climbing the panes.More snow nosed upward in the corner of the door.Jem hammered and then tried the handle; when it turned, he pressed Tean into the chalet ahead of him.
As soon as he closed the door, warmth swept over him.Warmth, and the smell of coffee, and a hissing sound.They stood in a small entry hall.The walls had been finished with a log veneer.The floorboards were more of the same honey-colored wood they’d used everywhere throughout the lodge.The lights were off, but from farther back in the chalet, some of the daylight—what little there was—made it inside.Enough to make the melting snow in Tean’s hair streak like rainbows when he turned his head.Enough for Jem to make out a single, watery footprint leading down the hall.
“Hello?”Jem called.“Mom?”
And there it was again.That word.
More loudly, he called, “Brigitte?”
“Jeremiah?”It was her voice.Not quite as hoarse as on the phone, but still rough.She appeared in the hallway a moment later, dressed in what must have been her pajamas: a matching pink set that shimmered like it might have been silk.Over the pajamas, she’d thrown one of the lodge’s terrycloth robes.She didn’t have any makeup on, but her hair was done.What the hell, though, Jem thought.Maybe she slept in a helmet.When she saw him, she let out a sound that was gaspy and tearful.“Oh Jeremiah!”
She hurried down the hall and threw her arms around him.He stood there, unsure of what to do.After another moment, he touched his mom’s back.Brigitte’s back.Light.Not quite a hug.
“What happened?”Jem asked.
“I don’t know.”She stepped back, wiping her eyes.“We don’t know what happened.He says they found him like that.”
“Who?”
Someone moved farther back in the chalet, and a man stepped into view.He was White, probably in his fifties although his high-and-tight was still dark.He was bulky in a way that had probably started as muscle but was now age and comfort.His dark suit needed to be cleaned and pressed.
“Mr.Larsen,” Brigitte said.She gestured at the hallway.
Jem made her go first.He checked Tean’s face, but his expression was unreadable.
The hallway took them to a high-ceilinged room with exposed beams.The furniture and features were similar to what Jem and Tean had in their room—the fieldstone fireplace, the leather furniture with the nailhead trim—but there was so much more of it.A breakfast bar divided the living room from a spacious kitchen.Another hallway led back to what Jem suspected were the bedrooms.And on the far side of the room, a ladder led up to a loft, where through an open doorway he glimpsed bunk beds tucked against the sloping line of the roof.A scuffing sound reached him, and then the creak of a joist, and a hint of blond hair appeared at the edge of the loft, followed by a pair of blue eyes.A second pair joined them a moment later.
When Jem offered a small wave and a smile, Brigitte whirled around to face the loft and snapped, “I told you to stay in your room.”
“Why?”asked Milo.
“Because she hates us,” Maeve said.
“Go to your room,” Brigitte said.
“We want to see a movie!”
“Go to your room and stay there!”
With a tween’s attempt at cool, Maeve got to her feet and said, “Come on, Milo.”She didn’t wait for the boy, though, and headed into the room with the bunk beds.
Brigitte waited until the door had closed behind them.Then some of the strain seemed to leave her body.She touched her forehead and, trying for what Jem guessed was her good hostess voice, said, “Would you like something to drink?I made coffee.”She let out a short laugh.“He told me Gerald’s dead, and I made coffee.We don’t evendrinkcoffee.”
“What happened?”Jem asked.
Brigitte cut her eyes to Mr.Larsen.He held out a hand to Jem and then Tean, saying, “Vaughan Larsen, lodge security, I’m sorry for your loss.”Without waiting for them to respond, he continued, “One of our staff found Mr.Fitzpatrick on one of the covered walkways this morning.We attempted to provide medical care, but Mr.Fitzpatrick had been dead for several hours.”
