After steak, which Hudson thought quite good despite the disdain of the chef, he got a fire going.
“You and Kurt had words this afternoon.”
“His problem. He likes to pound on my filing cabinet when he’s making a point.” She paused with her hand on the mantle. “Hudson, speaking of the files, I’m a little concerned there may be things in there that could leap out and bite us.”
“Leftovers from Carr?”
“We haven’t really had a chance to talk. The business with Andre has got me a little worried.”
“Our houseguest?” He adjusted his chair to the left of the fireplace.
“I met him when he came into my office breathing fire. Apparently Adams sent Carr a letter a year ago, which he never answered, just dumped in a folder. Ever hear of the Indiana Bat?”
“Is it like the Highland Fling?”
“It’s a bat, Hudson. One of those things that fly around at night. Adams claims one was sighted last spring here at Great Haystack.”
“Sure, I see them all the time in the base lodge.”
“In Isis Cave. Stay with me on this.” Isis Cave was a small flue, ten foot high and fifty foot deep, on a shoulder of Great Haystack, which currently was being developed for grove skiing.
“So?”
“He seemed pretty puffed when he came in, saying things like `the sighting has serious federal implications.’”
“Because bats have crossed state lines? They’re probably now subject to the Interstate Commerce Commission.”
“Or the FBI.”
“Nut or not, I’m sure glad he was where he was the other day. Ice climbing! You really used to do it as a kid?” Hudson leaned back in his chair and gazed at his wife in wonder.
Cilla waved it off. “Back when I was on the ski patrol at Great Haystack.”
“Why?”
She turned on the table lamp between the chairs. “We were kids. We’d do anything.”
“Climbing an icicle… I suppose there’s a way to keep from sliding off?”
“The shoes are the important things. We didn’t have any of the fancy equipment we used the other day, but we had the shoes. There are half inch metal pieces in the toe that stick into the ice. And crampons on the soles.”
“A whole half-inch to keep you nice and secure a hundred feet up. Suppose you lean back?”
“You don’t.”
Hudson nodded and got up to poke at the fire. “We’ll try another subject. How do you feel about having a double out there somewhere?”
“They say everyone has one; you just don’t usually run into them. Makes me feel funny, as though I’d been cloned. I’d like to meet her. She’s apparently about my age.”
“And he’s close to mine?” He turned to Cilla.
She studied him. “Maybe a little younger. Certainly not a middle aged man.”
“Like the geezer who’s married to his young chick boss?”
Cilla put her arms around his neck. “How do you feel about that?”
“Excited. How many guys get to hit on their general managers without waking up on the street?”
“Now you’ve done it, reminded me of work. Britton left a note, there’s a problem with the air we’ve rented.” She let her arms fall to her sides.
“And we’re practically on grass now, with the holiday week coming up. What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either. He’s trying to figure it out tonight.”
“Okay. I’d better go. He may need a hand, and I should know more about the snowmaking system.” Hudson shrugged into a parka.
“Are you all talk?”
“What gave me away?”
“This bragging about hitting on general managers. Just hot air?”
“Can this be the innocent child I married, propositioning an employee?”
“And still scared to death doing it.”
Hudson added a furry hat, thinking of another that may have saved him from a cracked skull. Or worse. He’d said nothing to Cilla about the attack and didn’t intend to. “Think how far you’ve come.”
“In some ways. The other day a man opened the ladies locker room door at the club. By mistake. I was in my underwear and I froze. Couldn’t move a muscle. He apologized and quickly closed the door, but I was shaking.”
“Good thing for him he was quick. It may have saved his masculinity.”
Chapter 7
It was light before the snowmaking system was back in operation. Hudson yawned as he paused at the entrance to Swallow Hill Road to let several cars heading in the opposite direction go by. His left turn signal was blinking, and he had started his turn when a pickup behind him suddenly shot by nearly clipping his left fender. He braked hard. The truck raced through the intersection, swerved around a westward-headed sedan, forcing it off the road, and swung into a convenience store with a gas pump outside. Hudson noticed the off-the-road vehicle was already moving back onto the highway, its driver peering back at the rogue pickup framing familiar words, and decided he needed gas. The driver of the truck went into the store as Hudson pulled up at the pump. He got out and followed him in. He was young, no more than seventeen, but looked as though he should be playing high school tackle.
“A little dangerous, wouldn’t you say?”
“What?” The kid put on a baffled expression.
“You nearly hit me and forced another car off the road.”
“I don’t care.”
What kind of response was that? “Other people might.”
“That’s their problem.”
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t have to tell you that.”
A man appeared from a door with “Toilet” over it, the word, “Mike” on the left breast of his cover-alls. “What’s going on, Kevin?”
“Kevin nearly caused an accident.”
“But he didn’t, huh?” Mike was unimpressed.
“Does he have a license?”
“Look, take off old man,” said the young driver. “You don’t know how much trouble…” He pushed his hand toward Hudson’s chest. Hudson took it in both his.
“Ow!” The boy fell hard on his knees. Mike made as if to grab Hudson’s arm.
“Don’t,” said Hudson. Something in the way the word came out froze Mike. Hudson looked down at Kevin. “Watch your driving from now on. I’ll remember you.”
The rest of his drive home was unsatisfactory. He didn’t feel he’d handled the situation well. What did he prove, that he could physically impose his will on a scrawny clerk and a seventeen-year-old boy? He’d done nothing useful. Kevin wouldn’t have learned from what had happened. Right now Mike was surely not lecturing the kid on driving. He, Hudson, had only widened the gulf a teenager feels between himself and adults. Maybe if he hadn’t been up all night… But even if he hadn’t, what should he have done?
Chapter 8
The luminous dial on her bedside clock said one-fifteen. She lay back on the pillow. What had awakened her? She could feel the bed beside her empty; was Hudson home? That must be it. She turned on her side and pulled the blanket up. Pretty soon she’d hear the third stair squeak, as it always did no matter how quiet he tried to be. As he always did.
It startled her to realize how much her life had changed in just a few months. The last two years in the ashram outside Syracuse were nearly perfect as she lived them: peace, security, the absence of threat. Who could ask for more out of life? She still thought of them with fondness; the devotees were...That clinking sound wasn’t Hudson... She pulled a sweater over her pajamas and stood for a moment, listening. She was tempted to call out Hudson’s name but didn’t want to wake Andre. There had been two squeaks, and as she listened she heard a rustling she couldn’t identify. She turned to go to the door, as it opened and two burly men burst in. One had a knife in his hand, the other a handgun. An automatic Cilla noted, having learned all she wanted to know about guns at an early age.