The Body in the Snowdrift (15 page)

The words hung in the air. Scott let out a roar and seemed about to head for his mother, then turned and raced out the door.

Robert followed him.

 

Faith was still shaking when she went back into the restaurant's kitchen. The inviting smells and organized chaos immediately calmed her down. She could imagine a scheme whereby Scott's laptop disappeared for
the week, only to be found mixed in with the dirty laundry or some such place. She was avoiding the room the cousins were sharing, except to tuck her kids in at night and wake them in the morning. Their clothes were up with Tom's and Faith's. These brief forays had been enough to remind her that smells, especially boy smells—no, make that boy funk—change mightily with age. It would be plausible to find the laptop buried under a pile of socks and underwear. But the ring was something else again. She couldn't see Ophelia taking it, even with Scott and Andy aiding and abetting. What would they do with it? They couldn't sell it, unless Ophelia had contacts with a fence in Burlington. And it wasn't exactly Ophelia's style—an oversized diamond cocktail ring. It was Glenda's style. And Glenda had been acting oddly, but then, she was hiding a Lord of the Ring. She'd admired the gift several times, but Faith had viewed her comments more as broad hints to Craig than anything else. Yet, what if Glenda had gone back to touch up her makeup, found the condo empty, and, acting on impulse—her usual mode of behavior—took the bijou? She'd never be able to wear it in front of the family, or even her husband, but perhaps it would be enough to take an occasional private peek, like those billionaires with their hot Vermeers and van Goghs.

And Betsey. Faith knew she would have to tell Tom about the other day. His sister needed help. Faith wasn't sure what Tom could do, but this was a woman on the edge. As Faith was leaving, Betsey had raced up to her, grabbed her arm so hard that Faith was sure she'd be sporting a bracelet of bruises from Betsey's
fingers for the rest of the week, and hissed, “Not a word about any of this to my parents!”

“Señora Confianza, is something wrong?” Eduardo asked anxiously.

“My sister-in-law lost something and thought I might know what happened to it, but everything is fine.” And it was. The smorgasbord beckoned; Faith had people to feed.

“Ah,” Eduardo said. “My mother lost a necklace that my grandmother gave her when she was married. For two days, the house was loco. First this person was the thief, afterwards that person. Even my father was accused! Then she put on a dress to go to church, and there was the necklace caught in the collar. I am sure it will be the same with your
familia.
”

Faith wasn't so sure.

Simon Tanner was sitting at the kitchen counter, attacking a large portion of meatballs and roasted potatoes. He'd passed over the cucumbers and the rest of the other veggie dishes Faith had prepared for the smorgasbord. Like her father-in-law, the Aussie was obviously a meat and potatoes man. He'd come by to tell her that the new chef would be arriving in the morning, and she'd insisted he stay for some dinner. The 6:00
P.M.
seating was in full swing, and she didn't have much to do, except keep an eye on the pots.

“This reminds me of all the tucker I had here with John,” Simon said in a wistful tone. “I would never have figured him for a bolter.”

“And no one has heard a word from him or where he might be?” Faith asked.

Simon shook his head. He wasn't bad-looking. Her
initial Crocodile Dundee impression, cliché though it was, remained. Simon was tall and slim, his collar-length sandy hair streaked with gray. He sported cowboy boots, and Faith was sure the rest of the outback regalia, including the hat and vest, were in his closet. It was hard to tell how old he was. He'd spent a great deal of his life outdoors, Faith guessed. His tanned face showed it.

“Who knows? Maybe he went to some restaurant in New York City. That's where he was from. Maybe he was tired of winter.”

This possibility hadn't occurred to Faith. She'd call some of her chef friends in Manhattan and see if there was a new kid on the block. It nagged at her—the not knowing, just as not knowing always did.

And here was Simon. There was a lot she didn't know about him.

“What brought you to this part of the world?” She placed a large piece of chocolate mousse cake in front of him. It wasn't Scandinavian, but she'd included it, along with a few other non-Nordic offerings that she knew people would expect at a buffet. She'd told herself that it was fusion cuisine. If you could have Franco-American, you could certainly have Franco-Norwegian.

Simon was obviously a chocolate lover, and half the cake disappeared rapidly before he answered her question.

“I was one of those guys who followed the snow. My mum and dad died when I was a teenager. My sister was married with a bunch of kids. I was the last thing she needed, so I started working my way around the
world from one mountain to the next. It was great while it lasted. No worries.” He took another bite of cake.

“But why Vermont? Why Pine Slopes?” It must seem pretty tame for someone who has skied the Alps
and
the Andes, she thought.

“One day, I looked around me and all my mates had moved on to other things. I was the old man in the crowd. It was time for me to move on, too. The only thing I know anything about is skiing and ski resorts. I picked up a few courses in management, so I'd look good on paper, then began sending ‘all about me' letters around. Most places wanted me to head the ski school, or teach skiing. Been there, done that. Pine Slopes wanted a manager. End of story.”

Faith was sure there were lots of chapters that had been edited out, but she was equally sure Simon wasn't going to reveal any more than he had.

“Thanks for dinner. It was brilliant. And thanks for working this week. Giving up your vacation time was a lot for us to ask, but I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't been here.” Simon reached across the counter for Faith's hand. She wasn't sure whether he was going to kiss it—she flashed back to John's gesture—or shake it. Simon shook it.

“Time to get back to the salt mines, better known as the Sports Center. It's almost time for the Hagar the Horrible weight-lifting competition.”

“You certainly don't want to miss that,” Faith said, laughing.

“No—especially because I'm judging it.”

“Josh must be entered, then, since he isn't judging,” Faith said.

Simon frowned. “Josh hasn't been too keen on Nordic Night. He's tending the bar and serving out snacks.”

Eduardo entered with one of the large chafing dishes, followed by two of the other waiters, who were carrying more empty ones.

“They are like animals out there!” Eduardo cried, then fell silent and put the dish on the counter. The other two did the same and stood waiting.

“Aren't you boys supposed to be doing something?” Simon asked, zipping up his parka. “And
mucho gracias
, don't be calling our guests, ‘animals.' See you, Faith.”

He left before Faith could explain that she had told them she'd be doing all the replenishing. They had to save enough for the next seating. And animals—the insect variety, as in locusts—were exactly what people were like at an “all you can eat” affair.

“What can I do?” Eduardo asked, frown lines puckering his smooth brow.

“Nada until I refill these. Don't worry. Simon didn't know what my instructions were. He came by to tell me that the new chef will be here tomorrow morning.”

“But we want you to stay, Señora Confianza!” Juana said solemnly. Her words reflected the expressions on all the other faces in the kitchen.

“And I wish I could. I've loved working with all of you, but I have to go home, back to my job, at the end of the week. So I need to be with my family here.” As she spoke, Faith realized how much fun she
had
been having. She wouldn't have minded if the new chef hadn't shown up until Friday. Tom and the
kids were one thing, but she wasn't looking forward to quality time with the rest of the family, especially after the ugly scene a few hours ago. Tom had said he would call from the Sports Center to tell her what was going on, but so far, he hadn't. She toyed with the idea of slipping down there, but she needed—and wanted—to stay right where she was, far from the scene of battle.

“I'll be here to meet him with you and tell him how lucky he is to have such a well-trained crew.” Faith assumed this was the chef from Middlebury. She'd forgotten to ask Simon where he was coming from or what kind of cuisine he specialized in. The chef was a man, because Simon had said, “He'll be here around ten o'clock tomorrow morning.”

She glanced at the clock. The next seating could linger, but these folks would have to be moved along. She hated to do it, but there wasn't any choice.

“You'll have to start busing the empty places and stop offering coffee refills. Of course, if someone asks for more, that's different. We won't refill any of the main dishes completely. They should be on dessert by now, but there are always some endless pits that have to keep going back for more, so take these out.” She refilled the platters with a judicious amount.

“When you have time, you have to tell me what an ‘endless pit' means,” Eduardo said. “I know
endless
, and a pit is what is in the middle of some kinds of fruit. I learned that from John. But an ‘endless pit'?” He shrugged expressively.

“I'll explain later. There are two kinds of pits, and they mean very different things.”

“Like
dice
and
dice,
” a tall boy named Vincente piped up. “John taught us that, too.”

Faith began to wonder what else John had taught them.

Tom called at 8:30. Amy had crashed, and he was back at the condo.

“She was asleep as soon as she got her nightie on, so I skipped teeth tonight. She can brush them twice in the morning. Is this a bad time?”

“No, it's fine. The second wave has arrived, and my new amigos are dealing with everything nicely. But Tom, they've found a chef. He starts tomorrow. This is my last night.”

“You sound disappointed.”

Faith hastened to cover herself. Tom had sounded disappointed, too.

“Not exactly. It's just that I've been having fun with them, not to mention being a real restaurant chef—you know, sort of like that old TV show
Queen for a Day
. But I'm looking forward to hitting the slopes with all of you and being with everyone at the condo.”

“Liar.” Tom laughed. “You may want to hit the slopes, but the togetherness part is a fib, and I don't blame you. I was glad to have Amy as an excuse to leave. There's something rotten in the state of Fairchild. Even Dad is picking up on it.”

“Betsey?”

“To start. I know my big sister is bossy, but something else is going on. She insisted we all go on the sleigh ride she organized, even though it was cold, and the horse blanket was very horsey, and not too warm, unless you want to count the heat generated by the smell of manure. Fortunately, it wasn't long.”

“What's happened with Scott? Was he there?”

“My brother Robert, who, I'm beginning to think, is the sanest of us all—and certainly the most sensitive—apparently didn't let his nephew out of his sight after Scott charged out the back door. Robert's taken both boys to dinner and the movies in Stowe. More ‘woof-woof' burgers, as Amy calls them, at Gracie's, and then on to that funky theater.”

The small Stowe cinema had a tiny loge with comfy seating, where patrons could order a beer or wine and hearty movie snacks.

“Scott will have to come home at some point.”

“Not in this life, if he can help it. Apparently, Dennis and Betsey had words about the way she handled things this afternoon. Now Dennis has vanished.”

“Maybe he's with Robert and the boys.”

“Possibly. I didn't think of that, but it makes sense. Scott will slide into his room tonight, and then we'll have the fun of watching him avoid his mother for the rest of the vacation.”

Faith giggled. “Guess he'll be turning off his walkie-talkie.” She was at the point where she had to laugh or cry about the whole debacle, and it was infinitely better to laugh.

“He doesn't need to; they've never worked well. Betsey is furious about that, too. Anyway, being with Mom and Dad seems to be what she wants. The three of them are in the Scrabble tournament. I'm not sure that's a Nordic game, but it's on the program. And speaking of Nordic, I wish you could have seen some of the getups people were wearing, in the fond belief that they were imitating real
Vikings. One guy was decked out in some kind of caveman outfit made of fake fur, and he had an ice bucket decorated with cardboard horns on his head. If his arms and legs were anything to go by, he didn't need the fake fur, by the way. Then we also had a six-foot-tall Brunhilde—quite a bit of confusion between Wagner and Grieg tonight—complete with an aluminum-foil breastplate.”

“Maybe I can duck down for a few minutes. What's Ben up to?”

“He's as happy as a Swede with a boatload of herring. I just made that up. Pretty cute, huh?”

“Very cute, but who's keeping on eye on him? Craig and Glenda?”

“More like Craig. Glenda bowed out after the sleigh ride to shower and change. They're signed up for the Land of the Midnight Sun tennis doubles tourney. Maybe she's back down there by now.”

And maybe she's not, Faith thought. She'd look in the pub after she finished talking to Tom.

“Craig entered this strongman thing and is in the finals. Ben wanted me to try, and now he knows what a hernia is. He and Craig were sledding when I left. Mom said she'd bring him up here before ten, or earlier if she gets eliminated.”

“Sounds like a rollicking time.”

“
Uffda,
as they say in Oslo. Wish you were here, honey. I haven't seen much of you lately.”

“I know,” Faith said. Tom and she needed a vacation to recover from this vacation.

Tiny came running into the kitchen.

“A very big man has just taken all the meatballs!
The people behind him in line are very angry.
¡Dios mio!
What do I do?”

“Got to go, sweetheart. Meatball emergency.”

Faith had planned to freeze a large quantity of the leftover main courses, but she'd obviously underestimated these peoples' appetites. She filled a chafing dish with the intended leftovers and sent Eduardo out with it, instructing Tiny to remove the one that was almost empty.

There were a great many things she had trouble imagining people doing in this world—some of which she could hardly bear to think about—but on a very basic level, taking more than one's fair share ranked high.

By the time she remembered to check the Pine Needle Pub, there were only a few stragglers in the dining room, and even fewer at the tables in the pub. But each stool at the pub's bar was filled—and Glenda and her ski instructor occupied two of them.

Before she could duck out, Glenda spotted her sister-in-law. Cool as one of the cucumbers Faith had sliced wafer-thin and mixed with her dill sauce, Glenda called out, “Faith, hello. Come meet Roy, my wonderful teacher.”

Glenda was wearing a tight silver Lycra top. The low light in the room seemed to make it shine more, not less. She'd obviously showered and washed her gleaming hair. She smelled like expensive perfume, nothing equine, and something else, something basic. They made an arresting couple. Roy was, if anything, more striking than Glenda. His hair was white blond, too, and his eyes were as clear and blue as the North
Sea. And like the North Sea's treasure, the oil that had made Norway so rich, Roy projected power—an ample store of health, athletic prowess, and sex. This was someone who should be on a Calvin Klein billboard in Times Square, not squiring snow bunnies around a small family-oriented ski resort in the wilds of Vermont. What was his story? Or, Faith corrected herself, saga.

“Faith, meet Roy Hansen. Roy, this is my sister-in-law Faith. She's the one I've been telling you about who took the chef's place. She knows how to cook.”

Glenda clearly thought Faith's accomplishments fell somewhere below giving a good manicure and above changing spark plugs. Roy got up and extended his hand. He had perfect posture.

“I'm very pleased to meet you, and I have heard about what you have done for Pine Slopes. The smorgasbord you prepared tonight was wonderful. If I closed my eyes, it was like Christmas Eve at home.”