The snow was falling as constantly as it had all day but the drive at the other end was still okay, even the road that led to the Copley cleared, the inn and half-hidden village below looking even more picturesque but fresher too somehow, more elemental, reminding him of home a little, the same seasonal transition.
It was the third time he’d been here. When he’d left the first time he hadn’t been certain about going back, and he’d been even less so in the weeks following. But he’d gone back, had taken that leap, and had found himself counting off the days then in the back of his mind till he could make another trip.
It was partly the place—he was developing an attachment to its rhythms—partly the people—Susan Bostridge’s easy hospitality, the constant flow of guests, their kindest sides to the fore, people who were essentially decent, the way most people were in the world, a fact it was easy to forget sometimes in what he did.
It was mainly for Jem, though, that he went back there, a tightly woven friendship developing between them, JJ constantly reminded of her when he wasn’t there, in the details of faces, in the things he saw. Maybe it wasn’t healthy but he didn’t think about it, conscious only that he wanted to be there when he wasn’t, and that he felt more at ease in her company than he had with anyone else for a long time. What was there to think about in it?
Kathryn met him in the lobby when he arrived, fussing over him, asking him questions like she’d known him for years. A moment later Susan came out and pecked him on the cheek, saying casually, “Lovely to see you again, JJ How was Christmas?”
“Fine thanks. With my family, you know, quiet.”
She smiled and said longingly, turning to Kathryn, “Wouldn’t you just love the holidays in Switzerland?”
“Oh yes, how romantic,” said the older woman, and JJ was puzzled about what they thought Switzerland could offer them over and above what they had.
“And speaking of Christmas, we saw Tom over the holidays. He wants to know why you haven’t been in touch.”
JJ smiled, appreciating the way Tom had played along with the idea of them being great friends, and said then, “No excuse really, but I have been busy, a lot of work over here as you know. Then a friend of mind had a baby, so ... And I’ve moved since I last saw you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, into the mountains.”
Susan smiled at Kathryn again and said with a knowing smile, “Christmas in Switzerland!” Changing tone then she said, “Now, I’ll get your key. Oh, and you’ll have dinner with us tonight?”
“I’d love to.”
“Good. And Jem’s waiting in the lounge to see you.”
“Your lounge?”
“No, the communal one; she didn’t want to miss you when you arrived.” He smiled indulgently, showing the right face.
“In which case,” he said, “I ought to pop in and see her now.” He moved his bags over near the stairs. Susan drifted off and came back with his key, saying as she gave it to him, “By the way, don’t mention Freddie.”
“He broke her heart?” JJ asked, grimacing slightly.
“She broke his, which shows how wrong a mother can be. She feels guilty about it.”
He smiled and walked away to the lounge.
The room was overrun with the white light of the snow outside, a dreamlike haziness on everything it touched, on the furniture, on Jem where she sat reading. For a moment she appeared oblivious, a ghost; then she looked up and saw him, gave him an immediate reactive smile.
“Hey,” she said and jumped up like she was about to throw her arms around him but stopped herself short, suddenly conscious of his physical presence, her own body language falling back awkward and shy.
“It’s good to see you,” he said, smiling as if to acknowledge the difficulty of how to greet each other, finally kissing her on the cheek, the girl blushing slightly as they sat down.
“So, are you here on like, business or pleasure?”
“Business in New York, pleasure here.” He noticed a newspaper on a table nearby, folded open on a page bearing the Korchilov story, reminded of Lenny and Dee Kaplan by the sight of it. “Actually the business in New York wasn’t essential, more of an excuse. I wanted to see what this place looked like in the winter, check out some of the cross-country trails you were talking about.”
“We could go in the morning,” she replied quickly, adding, “I mean, whenever, but like, if you don’t have anything else to do.”
“Like I said, it’s what I came for. What about skis?”
She looked bashful again, saying, “I’ve kind of taken care of that.”
“Thanks,” he said, nodding. “Tomorrow morning it is then.”
He looked at her for a second or two, half smiling, until finally she said, “What!”
“Nothing,” he said innocently. “Only, I heard you broke up with Freddie.”
She whooped with mortified laughter, covering her face, repeating again and again, “I don’t believe it. No, I don’t believe it,” surging into the details then, all the teenage drama in its gory detail, the easiness drifting back between them.