Carol of the Bellskis (6 page)

“That's why he's now a vegan,” Chana said.

“Vegan.” Seth gulped.

Carol of the Bellskis

31

“And also because of his soy intolerance, we can't use tofu.”

“No soy. Gotcha.” Seth nodded. “Okay. No dairy, no meat, no eggs, no honey, no soy.”

“And I'm gluten free,” Chana added.

Seth smiled a grimace. “Of course you are.”

“Well.” Chana wiped her hands on her skirt, as if even being in a gluten-populated kitchen

polluted her. “I just thought you should know.”

Lars moved forward. “Of course, Mrs.…?”

“Siegel,” she said, giving Lars a smile. “Chana Siegel.”

Lars reached out and held her hand. “Mrs. Siegel, don't worry about a thing. I'll make

adjustments to the breakfast and dinner menus to take into consideration all of your dietary

needs.” He flashed her one of his charming grins, and Chana seemed to melt a little.

“That's very nice of you.”

“Please! It's my responsibility as assistant chef of the Bellski B and B,” Lars said, glancing

smartly toward Seth. “Thank you for bringing the situation to my attention.”

“Thank you…”

“Just call me Lars,” Lars said, giving her another charming smile.

“Oh! All right, Mr. Lars. Thank you!” Chana waved at the two men and then shut the

kitchen door.

Seth and Lars stared at each other for a long moment.

“What?” Lars asked finally.

“You idiot!” Seth cried. “Where the hell are we going to get gluten-free, soy-free, kosher

fucking vegan food here in Whistler?”

“I don't think the altitude is high enough to affect baked goods. For the rest of it, we'll just

go to the organic grocer.”

“It's tiny! We're going to have to go all the way to Vancouver!”

Lars shrugged. “All right. You drive.” He dried his hands and picked up his scarf, slung

over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

Seth shook his head. “No! This is…no. This is all a terrible idea.”

32

Astrid Amara

“Relax, it'll be fine,” Lars said. “The rabbi's got to eat beans, at least. Who doesn't like

beans?”

“I don't like beans!” Seth pouted.

Lars cocked his head. “Really? You eat a lot of hummus for a guy who doesn't like beans.”

He smirked.

“They're the only beans I eat! Not that you ever noticed.”

“Don't say that.” Lars moved closer. “I do notice. I know you don't eat pork and that you

avoid spicy food. And you like your peanut butter on one slice of bread and jelly on the other.”

Seth rolled his eyes. “So does everyone else in the world.”

“And you hate warm fruits and okra but love feta and anything with balsamic vinegar.” He

stood very close to Seth. “I know that you eat M-and-Ms when you're stressed and like sushi

with
tobiko
on it.” He put his arms around Seth. “I know you like Frosted Flakes and two percent

milk and can't stand the texture of eggplant, but go crazy for a pepper-charred steak, and—”

“Okay, okay!” Seth took a step back. He looked up at Lars. “You notice what I eat. What

the hell is the point?”

“We've been together a year,” Lars said. “I know all about you.”

“Then why can't you figure out why I'm so pissed right now?” Seth snapped.

Lars's blue eyes never wavered. “I know why.”

Seth looked away from Lars. He felt everything—his emotions, his holiday plans, his

sanity—cycloning around him, wild and out of control.

“I don't know.” Seth wouldn't look at Lars. “I appreciate your help here, but—”

“Come on, for the sake of the Siegels,” Lars said, trying to smile. He looked a little scared,

at least. “Just this afternoon. We'll drive down to Vancouver and get the supplies they need. Your

car is better in snow than mine. You drive. I'll help shop. We'll get groceries, have some lunch,

and be back in time to start dinner. Then I'll leave, if you still want me out of the way.”

Seth wanted to say no, but really, what choice did he have? He had made a promise to his

cousin, after all, that he'd try, for Judi and Carl's sake.

And like it or not, Lars's plan was better than his, which involved getting another six-pack,

sitting on the frozen swing outside, and drinking himself slowly into a nice, quiet hypothermia.

Carol of the Bellskis

33

* * * * *

mountain, which slowed their journey, but once they passed the one-thousand-foot elevation

mark, the snow stopped and the rain started.

The dreary weather didn't help Seth's mood. Nor did the company.

Lars sat beside him and chatted as though everything were still normal between them. He

gossiped about Adam Finch's secretary and talked about his Christmas plans with his ailing

mother.

“I'd offer to visit her with you on Christmas,” Seth snapped, “but of course that would

never happen in a million years.”

Lars cocked his head and studied Seth. “You want to meet my mom?”

Seth rolled his eyes. “Of course I do! She's your mom! I've heard all about her.”

Lars looked out the window but said nothing.

“But how would you ever explain it?” Seth said bitterly. “Mom, here's my paralegal. I just

thought I'd randomly bring one of my employees, who means nothing to me, over to meet you.”

“I could tell her you're my friend.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Seth. People know we're friends.”

“Do they?” Seth glared at him.

Lars looked away again. “My family has heard of you. My friends outside the firm.”

“But no one
in
the firm. For fuck's sake, you can't even admit being my
friend
, Lars. How

the hell do you think we're going to get through this?”

“Give me time, Seth,” Lars said finally. “That's all I'm asking.”

“Time for what? Time to straighten up?”

“No!”

“That's what you want, isn't it? You hate being gay. You hate me because I remind you

that you're gay.”

“Don't put words in my mouth,” Lars said.

34

Astrid Amara

“Then why can't you admit it?”

“It's complicated.”

“Pfft.” Seth realized he was gripping the steering wheel with excessive force and urged his

fingers to relax. “It isn't easy for anyone, but people come out of the closet all the time. I did. My

parents didn't like it, but they eventually accepted it. And even if they didn't, I'm not going to

spend the rest of my life pretending to have a girlfriend. That isn't fair to anyone.”

At the girlfriend comment, Lars shut up and stayed quiet for a long time. When he tried to

reengage the conversation, asking about the B-and-B guests, Seth didn't respond. He hasn't asked

for Lars's company, and so he owed him nothing.

Capers Community Market was in the center of Vancouver and was the only place Seth

was familiar with that was big enough to have a broad range of gluten-free flours.

Although he had been silent and moody the last half hour of the drive, Lars perked up once

they parked and entered the grocery store.

“I can handle this,” Lars said, whistling as he grabbed a cart.

“Don't go crazy,” Seth said, already noting the prices on display. “Judi already has enough

food to feed all of Whistler.”

“I'm buying, my treat,” Lars said, and before Seth could protest, he rolled off with his cart

and dashed through the aisles.

Seth kept his distance, fiddling with displays and picking up random, unidentifiable Asian

produce until a staff member glared at him and he put his hands in his pockets. He found a

display on the INCREDIBLE HEALTH AND TASTE SENSATION: SEITAN! and brought

several packages over to Lars, who dismissed them with a flick of his wrist.

“It's gluten, babe. All gluten.” Lars was fondling fingerling potatoes.

“We don't need six-dollar-a-kilo potatoes,” Seth reminded him.

“Yeah, but that's six
Canadian
dollars,” Lars reminded him.

“Our dollar's on par.”

Lars laughed. “Good point. No fingerling potatoes, then.”

Carol of the Bellskis

35

Armed with white truffle oil, polenta, quinoa, xanthan gum, kosher vegan egg replacer,

some type of rice cheese that looked like plastic, and a selection of strange, expensive things

called Seattle Brown Rice Loaf and Tapioca White Sandwich, Lars and Seth checked out.

The price was equivalent to two nights' stay at the B and B.

“That's absurd!” Seth cried, shaking his head as Lars whipped out his credit card.

“No worries. I got it covered.”

“But—”

“I'm not paying for my room, am I?”

Seth crossed his arms. “You don't
have
a room. You have a
couch
. A couch that's in the

TV room, and therefore available for everyone to use until ten.”

Lars shrugged. “I can afford it.”

Seth considered another protest but stifled it. He felt touched by the effort—and resented

it. He didn't want to feel love for Lars at the moment. He needed to harbor his anger, because

when Lars looked so good, when he was being sweet, the temptation to go back to the way things

were was almost too great to resist.

They stopped at an Indian restaurant on the way back and enjoyed a thoroughly nonkosher

meal of cheese and meats and spices. They got into an argument about the movie they had seen

the weekend before they broke up, but it was a playful argument with no heat in it, and by the

time Lars gave in and agreed that Seth was right, no actor should ever have to be in the same

scene with a dog, a child,
and
Jim Belushi, Seth was in a good-enough mood to ignore the rain

and drive home with a better outlook on life.

Lars fielded calls from the office on the drive back. Despite having told his secretary,

Nancy, that he was on vacation, he still had responsibilities, and Seth forced himself to tune it all

out. He didn't want to think about work right now. Work was what got him into this mess in the

first place.

The rain turned into sleet and then snow, and the reality of Judi's and Carl's disappearance

returned, and Seth's good mood vanished.

Lars noticed right away. He quickly terminated a call with the office and snapped shut his

phone. “What's wrong? What did I say now?”

36

Astrid Amara

“Nothing. I'm just thinking about Carl and Judi.”

Lars frowned. “How long have they lived in Whistler?”

“Twenty years? Longer, even,” Seth said. “They've been here as long as I can remember.”

“Then don't worry. They can take care of themselves.”

“But it isn't like them,” Seth said. “In all the years they've run this B and B, they've never

once closed their doors. They're always open, especially for holidays. What could have possibly

happened to make them not show up for a houseful of paying guests?”

“We'll call the RCMP again when we get back,” Lars said.

It turned out they didn't need to.

The driveway was slushy and turning to ice, and Seth's Subaru nearly skidded into a patrol

vehicle as he struggled to park. He rushed inside, terrified. Police didn't show up uninvited on

anyone's porch for any good reason.

“Mr. Bellski?” one of the constables said, approaching him. She was bundled up in enough

layers to survive the Antarctic.

Seth nodded, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Yes? What's going on?”

“I'm Constable Singh. This is Constable Ryan,” she said, motioning to a silent man

standing and frowning beside her. “We just wanted to let you know that we have not found any

sign of the vehicle you described anywhere in Whistler, Blackcomb, or along Highway 99.”

As they stood there, Ben Berkowitz and the Rosenbaums gathered around. Lars finished

bringing in the last bag of groceries and stood beside Seth.

“So you haven't found my aunt and uncle yet?” Seth clarified.

“We'll be expanding the search south, toward Squamish,” Singh said. “To help us, I was

hoping we could get some information from you.”

Seth led the officers into Carl's office and provided them with bank statements to help

track their credit cards and photographs. If Judi was alive, she was going to rip Seth a new one

for letting them use the picture he found of her, with her hair flat, before her morning curlers.

“Thank you for your help,” Seth said, feeling choked up. The actual physical presence of

the officers made him realize how serious this all was.

“Notify us if you hear from them,” Constable Singh said.

Carol of the Bellskis

37

Seth nodded.

As soon as the RCMP left, the guests gathered closer.

“What is it? What's happened?” Rita asked.

“My aunt and uncle should have been here by now,” Seth said. He began to feel nauseated.

“They've been gone for over twenty-four hours.”

“Oh my God, how terrible!” Rita cried.

“Do they have a mobile?” Ben asked.

“No.” Seth swallowed.

“Maybe they went on vacation?” Rita suggested.

“Why would they have guests at their B and B if they went on holiday?” Mendel asked his

wife.

She threw up her hands. “Well, how on earth should I know? I just am saying, maybe it

isn't as terrible as it seems?”

Seth closed his eyes. He felt someone put their arm around his shoulder. He opened them

again and saw, to his shock, it was Lars.