Sleeping Beauty (69 page)

“Dinner in an hour, so we'll be done before they get here,” Gail called, and went to the kitchen. It was as neat as if Anne had never been there, except for an apple pie on the counter, with a note beside it. “Apples and cinnamon have been known since ancient times to heal skull fractures, so this is my contribution to Leo's recovery. I'm sorry I won't see you; I really have to catch an early plane. I'll call from LA, and I'll try to get back in a week or two. Welcome home!”

Gail walked through the house. Not a trace, she thought. The sheets from the guest room had been washed and the bed neatly made; the cushions in the living room were plumped. But there had been a fire in the fireplace the night before, she saw; the ashes were still warm. She felt a stab of sadness at the thought of Anne sitting alone before a fire on a snowy night.

She raked the ashes and laid kindling and logs on the andirons. Another fire tonight; maybe it would make everyone feel more pleasant, and not in such a panic. And they'd have Anne's pie, warmed up. Warm fire, warm pie, warm hearts. Maybe.

But when the family sat in the living room that night, they were tense and jumpy, not interested in pie, barely aware of the huge fire Gail had lit, wanting only to get through, and leave.

“I'm sorry, Gail, I'm so sorry,” Nina kept saying. “I'm so
sorry.
But what else can we do?”

“We can wait,” Leo said angrily. He and Gail sat close together on the couch facing the fireplace. “Listen, you know that gondola didn't fall by itself; Gail called all of you and told you what they've found so far: somebody wrecked it!”

“Josh
wrecked it!” Fred shouted. “What difference does that—”

“He didn't!” Gail cried. “Nobody in his right mind could ever believe—”

“Most likely not,” Marian said. “But they must have something, or they wouldn't have charged him—”

“Poor Josh,” Nina said. “I did like him. What could have gotten into him—”

“Nobody knows what happened,” Leo said loudly. “Look, I'd rather not shout; it hurts like hell when I do. Could we have a conversation here instead of a yelling match? There's something we have to be clear on.
Nobody's blaming us.
This guy Halloran came to Albuquerque and told Gail our maintenance was terrific—”

“Who cares about Halloran?” Fred cut in. “He doesn't buy lift tickets; tourists do. And the tourists, the newspapers, TV,
everybody
is blaming us. Look around, for Christ's sake, this town is dead.”

“It's like a, you know, albatross,” Keith said to the room at large. “I mean what can you do with it, it's a, you know, white elephant.”

Marian ignored her son. He had turned into a foolish version of Fred. “I don't see what good it would do to wait,” she said to Leo.

He leaned forward, too quickly, and winced from the pain in his head. “When we're cleared of negligence, we can get people back, Marian, I know we can! It's not as if we're some remote little village; we're one of the top ski areas in the world! People come here from all over, they come year after year—”

“Leo, you don't have to sell it to us,” Marian said sadly.

“It looks like I do. As far as I can tell, you've forgotten everything you ever knew about this place. This isn't an ordinary town; it's got a history and a life of its own, and tourists like that. And we've got a mountain that skiers in every country talk about. And none of that has changed—”

“It's all changed,” William said. “I'll tell you why. Precisely because of what you said, Leo. It isn't an ordinary town: it lives or dies on the goodwill of visitors who come here to have a good time. And they won't have a good time if they don't feel safe. And they won't feel safe if they don't think we can keep our house in order. It's as simple as that.
It won't matter to them whether we didn't do proper maintenance or we were sabotaged; what matters is that the gondola crashed and people were hurt. That's what gets remembered. And that's what's killing us.”

“It won't be remembered if they believe it won't happen again,” Leo said desperately.

“No one can ever be sure of that,” Marian said firmly. “Every time something goes wrong here—and it's odd, but we've had a lot of things wrong lately—it gets harder to sell.”

“We don't have to sell it! Listen, Vail had a gondola accident, years ago, and they went on to be bigger than ever! There's no reason why we can't, too!”

Fred shrugged. “Vail's a lot different. And it didn't have all these other things going wrong.”

“That doesn't—”

“Leo,” said Marian, “we went along with you the last time this came up, but we can't keep doing it forever. Too much has happened. I don't see any other way than to sell as soon as we can, while we can.”

William grunted. “You'll get your money, Charles. That should make you happy.”

“It will help,” Charles said. He was looking at Gail, who was crying. Leo's arm was around her. “Marian's right,” he said to her. “We can't hold on to it.”

“Did you talk to Beloit?” Fred asked.

Charles nodded. “Sixty million, cash, if we make the deal tonight.”

“For Christ's sake!” Fred exploded, and at the same time Marian cried, “It's worth twice that!”

“What do you want me to do?” Charles asked tightly. “Call the Egyptians back? Call Matsushita? Or Sony? What the hell do you want me to do?”

“Sell,” Walter said. He and Rose were on a hassock near the fireplace; he was the only one who had eaten his pie. “Take the sixty million and get out. I've had it with all these debates; I'm tired of worrying about it. Let somebody else do it for a change.”

“I'm so sorry,” Nina said to Gail and Leo.

“Nobody's happy about it,” William rumbled.

“It's very sad,” Marian said. “But I really don't see any other way—”

“Yes,” Fred said emphatically. “I vote yes.”

There was a pause. “Yes,” whispered Nina. One by one, the others echoed it. Gail and Leo were silent. The fire burned brightly.

The faint whisper of the flames was the only sound in the room.

“I'll call Beloit,” said Charles at last. “He'll want a letter of intent.”

“Write it up,” said William. “You and I can sign it as officers of Chatham Development.”

Charles took a folded sheet, and a pen, from the inside pocket of his sports jacket and held them out to William.

“I'll be damned,” Fred said admiringly.

William leaned over the coffee table and read the letter. Charles' signature was already on it. William signed his name and handed it back.

“We have to get back to the hotel,” said Rose, standing up. “We're catching the first plane tomorrow.”

“Yes,” William said. “We'd better go.”

“It's snowing again,” said Nina. “It's going to be hard, driving down the Riverwood road. Oh, dear,” she burst out, “there are so many things to worry about!”

Marian put her arm around her. “We'll drive slowly.”

“I meant there are
other
things—”

“I know,” Marian said. “Come on, we'll get our coats.”

They all bent over Gail and Leo, kissing them good-bye, and then they left. Flakes of snow drifted in each time the door opened. When it closed for the last time, Leo took Gail in his arms and held her to him. They were both crying. They sat there for a long time, while the fire burned down, and then went out.

*   *   *

Josh went to see them early the next morning, wearing snowshoes to walk the mile from his house because the plow
had not yet reached Riverwood. The unplowed roads kept the reporters away and he had the walk to himself. The sun was breaking through the clouds in flashes of light on the unbroken expanse of snow that had been smoothed and rounded into high dunes by the wind; when the clouds closed in again, he moved through a landscape of black pines and white aspens against the pure white snow. The only color came from his blue ski pants and jacket, and his face, reddened in the bitter cold. By the time he reached Gail and Leo's house, he was almost jogging, his face icy, his body sweating.

“Just in time for breakfast,” Gail said as she opened wide the door of the mud room. He burst in, breathing hard. “We'll be waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” he gasped. He pulled off his snowshoes and boots, and by the time he hung his jacket on the crowded coat tree, his breathing had returned to normal. He went into the kitchen in his stockinged feet, thinking of Anne. They had been there only two nights before.

“You look too damn healthy,” Leo growled.

“And you look like you'll give me a run for it in a couple of weeks,” Josh said. Leo stood and they hugged each other. “I'm glad to see you whole.”

“I was lucky. And I had Anne. She kept the kids from falling out of that damn car, kept them busy until the patrol came, and she's been with them at the hospital every day while we were in Albuquerque. I love that lady. Sit down, Josh; have some breakfast. We have to talk about you.”

Gail brought orange juice and pancakes to the table while Leo poured coffee. She moved back and forth between the table and the stove, talking as she made more pancakes. “It's absolutely crazy, thinking you had anything to do with it, even
thinking
that you could do anything criminal—”

Josh heard the tension in her voice, the high note that was like a muted scream. “What's happened here?” he asked. “Something's wrong. Something more about the gondola? About the company? Come on, we're not going to talk about me until I know what's going on with you two.”

“They voted to sell the company,” Leo said. “They were here last night; it took about ten minutes. This guy Beloit came in with an offer that no good businessman would look at twice, and they grabbed it. They were scared and they didn't know what to do, so they took it, and it was done. Just like that.”

Josh shook his head. “I'm sorry. They should have waited. The town will come back; it's just a question of time.”

“I told them that. They didn't want to hear it.”

“So I don't know how much we can help you, Josh,” Gail said in that tight, high voice. “I don't suppose we're going to have much clout around here from now on.”

“You don't have to worry about me,” Josh said. “I've got a terrific lawyer. Which reminds me: that's an incredible Barolo you've got in your cellar, Leo. We held ourselves to one bottle, which, believe me, wasn't easy.”

They looked at him in bewilderment. “Who did?”

“Anne and I. She didn't tell you? I thought she would have, before she left.”

“We didn't see her; she just left a note. You had dinner here? When?”

“Two nights ago. She met my plane.”

“Oh.” For a moment, Gail forgot the family meeting. “You made a fire.”

“We ate dinner in front of the fire. And I stayed in your other guest room, because of the storm.”

“I'm so glad. I was feeling sad about Anne being alone in front of the fire, with a storm outside. I'm glad she wasn't. I'm glad she was with you.”

“Who's your lawyer?” Leo asked.

“Anne.”

“Oh. Well, good, except, how can she—”

“She's working with Kevin Yarborough, here in town. I saw him yesterday morning, and he agreed to work with her any way she wants. He thinks she's terrific, too.”

“You got past all those reporters?” Gail asked.

“I promised them an interview when I got back.”

“And?”

“And I gave them one. Nothing about me; everything
about the tomb—well, I haven't had a chance to tell you about that—”

“We heard it yesterday, at the hospital; Ned had the TV on,” Leo said. “The trouble was, it was two stories—Egypt and the gondola—and neither of them was very clear.”

“You tell us, Josh,” said Gail. “All of it, starting with the gondola. Tyler doesn't really have anything, does he? What
can
he have?”

Josh sat back, his mug between his hands. The sun was fully out, now, flooding the kitchen, and he sat in its warmth, feeling as much at home as he had with Anne. This had become his family, and his place. It was partly because of Anne, he thought; as she became more deeply involved with Leo and Gail and the children, he had wanted to share that with her. But also it was because of Leo and Gail themselves. He enjoyed their love for each other, their reliance on each other, their solid marriage, the stability of their life with their children. The contrast with his own personal life, with Dora and with the others before her, was so great that Josh was drawn to them as a man in the shadows is drawn to the light.

They talked for a long time that morning, until Gail and Leo had to leave for the hospital, to bring Ned and Robin home. “What will you do now?” Gail asked. “Are you going back to Egypt?”

“Not until this business is cleared up. I wouldn't go back right away, anyway; I'm teaching a class this semester. And I have enough here to keep me busy; I have all of Tenkaure's walls to read.”

“You mean your photographs,” said Leo. “You really can read them? The drawings and the hieroglyphics?”

“Like a book. In fact, it is a book only it's on the walls. It's a history of Tenkaure's reign and his time, the way the people lived, and traded with other countries, and fought wars and revolutions . . . the whole story. And we don't have it yet; all we know about Tenkaure so far is a few pieces I put together from tombs of the pharaohs who came after him. His son and the attempted coup. That's about it.”

“What about his son?” Gail asked.

“He was the heir to the throne, and evidently he got involved with one of his father's wives and his father banished him. We don't know any more about it; I hope the whole story is in the tomb. We do know that, afterwards, Raneb, the son, went to the delta and hired mercenaries and plotted a coup to overthrow his father. Somehow, Tenkaure found out about it and stopped it, and probably sent Raneb out of the kingdom. We don't know for sure, but he never shows up again, and he didn't become the next pharaoh, so I'm assuming he never came back, or at least became part of the family again. The world doesn't change much, does it? Family quarrels sound pretty much alike when they're reduced to their basics.”