Jack demanded a minute later. In the blink of an eye he was on the floor, looking up at his wiry friend.
“Yeah. Serves you right. You know better than to talk to me when I’m thinking.” Harry reached down for Jack’s hand to pull him to his feet. And then Harry was on the floor, with Jack straddling his chest. “Say it!”
“Up yours! You’re a wuss, Emery!”
They went at it for a good fifteen minutes until both men collapsed, with no real winner. Huffing and puffing, both of them got to their feet, their eyes wary until Jack roared, “Enough! That was my workout for the day.”
Harry extended his hand. “Pretty good, Emery. In ten years, you might be almost as good as I am.”
“My ass. It was a draw. You want to drive tomorrow or should I?”
“We’ll make better time on my cycle. Your call.”
“Whatever gets us there the quickest,” Jack said.
“Then it’s the Ducati,” Harry said, all smiles and sunshine.
“You are a piece of work, Harry Wong.”
“You know, Jack, you are absolutely right. I am. And you are one damn lucky son of a bitch to have me as a friend.”
Jack knew there was no way he could ever win an argument with Harry, so he let it drop. “Listen, I have to get to court. How about calling Bert and filling him in? Ask him if he wants to go to the mountain with us. I’m not sure about Maggie or Ted. I’m thinking they’re going to be rather busy in the next few days. You know how Maggie loves a good headline.”
“Okay, I’ll call Bert. You want some tea to go?”
“What? You gonna slip something in it so I fall asleep in court?” Jack asked in pretended outrage.
“Never happen.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Chapter 4
If spring was about to announce itself or was just around the corner, as the newscasters phrased it, it wasn’t evident on Big Pine Mountain. Six inches of new snow carpeted the compound and, while it was late in the afternoon, it was still light enough to see that fresh snow was cascading downward.
Inside the main building a monster fire roared in the huge fieldstone fireplace, and the scent of pinecones that had been used to start the fire wafted about the dining room.
Remnants of the early dinner remained on the table as Alexis Thorne poured fresh coffee into everyone’s cup except Yoko’s.
Nikki Quinn poked at the food on her plate, which had been barely touched. “I think this is probably one of the worst dinners I’ve ever eaten.” Her comment wasn’t said in anger. It was merely a statement of fact. No one, not even Isabelle, who had prepared dinner, took offense. “Cupcakes are not my dessert of choice,” Nikki continued in the same flat voice.
“What do you call this?” Kathryn asked as she moved the mess around on her plate for a better look. It was a known fact that Kathryn had a reputation for eating anything that wasn’t moving. “I’ve lost eight pounds since Christmas, and these cupcakes taste like sawdust,” she grumbled.
“It’s called hash. You just throw everything in a pot and mix it up. Don’t blame me for the cupcakes, blame Little Debbie. They were frozen,” Isabelle said in a voice that was just as void and flat as Nikki’s and Kathryn’s.
Yoko sat quietly as she nibbled on a rice cake, a cup of tea in front of her. She stared at the food on her plate, and finally commented, “It looks like a pile of dog poop.”
Myra stared into the flames, her back stiff and straight.
Annie looked down at her empty plate, wondering what all the fuss was about. Food was sustenance. As long as she didn’t have to cook whatever it was they were eating, she never complained. Well, she decided, there was a first time for everything, and this was going to be one of them.
She stood up and banged the stout wooden table with her fist to gain everyone’s attention. “Enough!” she roared in a voice that would have ricocheted over the mountain if the door had been open. “I’ve had it with all of you! And that includes you, Myra!”
Myra snapped to attention, wondering what was going on. She eyed Annie warily. “What now?” she asked wearily.
“What now? What now? Earth to Myra!” Annie bellowed. “Did you hear what I just said? In case you didn’t, I said I had enough. Either you all pull it together, or, as soon as it stops snowing, I am out of here. I’ll take my chances that Avery Snowden can smuggle me somewhere safe. You can all sit up here and rot, vegetate, fall off the mountain, I don’t give a damn. I am not going to spend one more day up here listening to all of you moan and groan and complain.
“You are the worst offender, Myra. You, all by yourself, set the tone for these young women. Because you’re miserable, they think they have to be miserable. You’re all like a pack of wet-haired cats.
“Just because Charles isn’t here doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. Is he coming back? I don’t know. But if he does, I think we should take a vote to see if we want him to stay. Is that ever going to happen? I have no idea. In the meantime, time does not stand still. We didn’t do terribly bad out in Utah even though we didn’t have a plan. That won’t happen again. Yet we pulled it off. And hopefully, we learned from our mistakes.”
“We have cabin fever. Winters up here are the pits,” Kathryn said defensively.
“They weren’t the pits when Charles was here,” Myra said.
“Maybe they weren’t the pits for you, but they were for the rest of us,” Nikki said. “All we can do is read, watch TV, eat, and shovel snow. So, don’t blow smoke in our direction. You need to let it go and join in. Otherwise, I’m going to follow Annie’s lead, leave the mountain, and take my chances.”
The others murmured agreement. Myra stood up and walked over to the fireplace, where she held out her hands for warmth even though the room was stifling hot. She knew Annie and the girls were right. It was time to move on without Charles. She turned around, and observed, “Annie and Nikki are right. I’m sorry, I really am. I just…It’s hard to turn your back on a lifetime of love and devotion that…that wasn’t returned. I think my pity party has just come to an end. I can’t promise I won’t have a relapse, and if I do, Annie, you get the first shot at pushing me off the mountain.”
“Now that’s the Myra I know and love,” Annie said happily, clapping her hands. “Let’s clean up this mess and get on with it. I have something to tell you all. And the reason I’m the one who is going to be doing the telling is because as usual I am the one who answered the damn phone. And, no, it is not about Charles, so don’t even go there. What do you think of that?”
“What? What?” Myra and the girls chorused.
Annie crossed her arms over her chest as she looked pointedly at the dinner table. The women scurried to clear away the remains of the dinner no one but Annie had eaten. Only when Annie heard the hum of the dishwasher did she relax and sit down.
“Tell us,”
