Stitch in Snow

His hands dropped to where I was also sensitive.

'It's two o'clock in the morning and all's well. Shall we?' The last two words came out in a husky, compelling invitation, reinforced by an especially clever kiss. I nodded.

While the storm continued, so would the spell, so why not?

Chapter 05

When I woke the next morning, I was on my left side. The room service table was gone, but curtains pulled back. It was still blowing a fearful gale. Someone was whistling in the next room.

In the next room! I sat upright, pulling the sheet up to my bare breasts. The communicating doors were ajar.

'Why, you lousy finkface!'

'The dead arose?' He leaned around the door, a broad grin breaking through the lather on his face.

'How long have those doors been unlocked?'

The grin broadened, showing his white teeth. 'Since we got here.'

I remembered the bellboy's door busyness….

'Ohhhhh!'

'Well, plan ahead,' he said with a cheerful shrug. 'You don't really want to report it to the management, do you? I've only tried to preserve your reputation. All the room service came to my door.'

I made a rude noise.

'Oh, sorry. Thought you'd approve my chivalry.' He made me a bow and, considering the fact that his towel parted across his thighs, that he had a lathered razor in one hand and the aerosol can in the other, it was a noble attempt. I had to laugh.

'Look, let's swim before that family invades our pool again.' He rotated his shoulders. 'I need to loosen up.'

If he'd asked me, I'd've been glad to vouch for his suppleness after his antics last night.

'Naughty, naughty,' he said, waggling the razor at me as if my thought had been that obvious. 'I'd better finish this nonsense but I won't be long. Hey, and you'd better put on the latch in case the chamber maid checks the doors and ruins our cover.'

I got up, washed, made-up which was foolish since it would all come off swimming, pulled on the bathing suit and my robe, and threw the big bath towel over my shoulder.

He was just emerging from his room as I came out. He slipped his hand under my elbow and we marched in step to the elevator, irreverently chanting 'we're off to see the wizard' under our breaths.

The pool was all ours again: the lifeguard waved to us as if pleased to have some company, then he went back to his cross-word puzzle. We did an easy fifteen laps and then floated about until we heard the unmistakable noise of childish invasion.

'You know what,' he said as with mutual understanding, we got out of the water, 'I feel very hungry and we're in time for lunch today.'

'Hey, what about my breakfast steak?' I asked petulantly.

'No complaints. You' re getting steak for lunch.'

'In that case…'

'Tell you what - let's give 'em all a break. We'll dine downstairs.'

'Are they up to us?'

'Let's give 'em a try.' He glanced at his watch, which he'd just strapped back on. 'Look, I've got to make a few phone calls. I'll meet you at the western room in about an hour? Okay?'

'Fine!'

'That'll give you time for a few rows of knitting. I've been keeping you from it.' His eyes twinkled.

'That's only pick-up work.'

'And me?'

'You ungentleman, you. You picked me up, and you know it! You…you… plan-ahead artiste!'

'An hour, then? Okay, Jenny?'

We unlocked our respective corridor doors and discreetly parted company. The maid had been in and the room was all neat and far too impersonal, wiping out the pleasant memories of the previous night… and early morning. My unfinished letter to Tim was neatly centred on the desk. Evidently the hotel staff really did dust in this place. In other rooms I'd occupied briefly over the past three weeks, my things were always scrupulously left where I had put them, dust, glass-rings notwithstanding.

The red blinker on my phone was patiently flashing which meant a message. Who knew where I was? The air-lines did. The message was merely to confirm what any halfwit would have guessed: all flights were grounded. I asked the operator if she'd heard a recent weather report. Her careful reply was that there was no change anticipated in the next 24 hours. She was so sorry.

'I'm not,' I told her. 'This is the best rest I've had in weeks.'

Her tone thawed, as if she were rather relieved not to be dumped on with more complaints.

I towelled dry my hair: I'd need a set before Portland but I'd have time for that, maybe after tomorrow's swim… if there was one tomorrow. I completed the note to Tim, telling him about being snow-bound and blaming myself for the overdose of the fluffy white stuff. I gave him the place of the Los Angeles engagement which had only been confirmed to me in St. Louis, and reconfirmed that the Dallas and Tulsa lecture dates were unchanged. I sealed the letter and saw that I had time before meeting Dan. I laughed as I stuck the airmail stamp on Tim's letter because it was likely to reach him faster by dog-sled. Ho-hum for the disadvantages of modern conveniences.

I posted the letter in the lobby box, wondering briefly if the blizzard had deflected the noble mailmen from their rounds, and then wandered towards the western room. My path took me past the boutique which announced a sale. On ski togs. Well, it was March and I had a few moments, so I went and browsed. Some of the jackets would be great protection against the chill damp of an Irish winter. The green one was not only in my size but in my budget at a third off. 'There's 40% off on some of these, miss,' said the sales-girl helpfully. 'Just slip it on.'

I did and the jacket not only fit but the green did nice things to my hair and figure. Some greens look all wrong against my mildewed locks.

'How about matching pants?'

'I'm not a skier.'

'Were you grounded, too?'

'Yes, indeed. But I'm rather enjoying it.'

'You're one of the few,' she said with a grimace of stretched patience.

'Sometimes people have to be forced to rest and relax: they lose the habit of taking things easy.'

'You're so right.' Her agreement was heartfelt.

I spotted a gorgeous sweater in almost the same tone green, but lighter, with white designs. My size and 40% off. I couldn't resist it. I was getting so bored with my travel wardrobe. And the selection in the States is much better than it is in Ireland. I told her so and she evinced a more than cursory interest that I lived in Ireland: her great grand- father had been born in Ireland but she couldn't remember where. Her idle conversation led me to buy not only the sweater and jacket but dual layer ski underwear, a heavy pair of socks and some calf-height furry mukluk type boots: guaranteed waterproof, 'considering that it rains more in Ireland than it snows.'

She was rummaging in the small service part of the shop for a plastic shopping sack when Dan came in.

'Bought the place out yet?'

'Some good bargains.'

He had to pass the rack of ski jackets to reach me at the counter and, absently examined a sales ticket, stopping altogether to pull the jacket out of the group. It was a match to the one I'd bought.

'Mine to yours, and it's a White Stag. You're right about the bargain,' he said, brandishing it. He reached to his hip. 'Damn! Left my credit cards in my briefcase. Look, Jen, you go on in to the restaurant and grab us a table. The place is filling up fast. I'll be right back.'

He was gone just as the girl returned with my package. It was a bit more unwieldy than I'd thought.

'I can have the bellboy take it up to your room, if you'd like.'

'Would you? It's a bit much to stick under a lunch table. My name is Jane Lovell and my room is 903.'

'Sure thing, Miz Lovell. It'll be there when you've finished lunch. Have a good day… if you can!'

'I can and will!'