in her lap. Behind them, in a metal dog crate, rode the family’s new pet, Seuss, a twelve-week-old German shepherd.
The drive to Sultan took seventy-four minutes. It felt like seventy-four days, however, with Belle asking far too often when Fiona would be back.
“I hate this town,” Lauren announced, glowering as they passed the first junk store on the edge of town—The Sultan Flea Market. “The people are, like, backward.”
Another good reason to spend some time out of Telluride, Seamus thought. Sure, Telluride was “a great place to raise kids,” with world-class skiing, good schools, culture, of a sort, and natural beauty. But he’d noticed a tendency in his children to see themselves as intellectually brilliant and world-class athletes. Seamus, born and raised in the Silicon Valley in California, surrounded by exceptional brains, the brother of a cyclist who’d finished near the top in the Tour de France, knew his children to be simply “above average.” And more than a bit snotty.
They were beautiful children. Beau was the only one of the four without a horde of friends. He wore white T-shirts on which he wrote, in magic marker, obscure quotations from obscure texts, sometimes in dead languages. Beau actually might be brilliant, a thought that terrified Seamus. Already, he was studying trigonometry and his first love was chess. He had little interest in snowboarding, skateboarding or skiing, and spent too much time indoors playing video games on his computer. Now, Lauren gazed through the windshield with visible dissatisfaction. She’d been chosen homecoming princess of the freshman class that fall. She was so popular and had so many friends that she hadn’t wanted to leave—not even for three months. Caleb was a soccer star and an easy child. And Belle…
Elizabeth’s words pounded at him again.
He just didn’t know Belle.
Seamus had memorized directions to the historic hotel that was the home base for the Sultan Mountain School. He would meet his old friend Kurt there and pick up the keys to the house.
The hotel was three storeys high, with its historic name, the Hotel Ambassador, painted on the brick facade. A shingle hanging over the street, a block from Main Street, read, SULTAN MOUNTAIN SCHOOL. Seamus parked.
Beau shoved open his door. “I’m going to get Seuss out, okay?”
“Put his leash on him,” Seamus ordered. German shepherds were supposed to be smart, but he hadn’t seen many signs of intelligence in Seuss so far. He did have a startling baritone bark—strange coming from a puppy.
As Lauren climbed out and stalked to the rear of the vehicle, no doubt intending to criticize her brother’s behavior with the dog, Seamus headed for a wood-and-glass door beneath the shingle. It opened as he reached it and a young woman came out, almost colliding with him. She had long, thick hair, curly and tied back in a loose ponytail. Her eyes were brown, her nose straight and lightly sprinkled with freckles. The eyes widened slightly at the sight of him and his vehicle. “You’re…You’re Mr. Lee,” she exclaimed, and shifted a manila envelope, book and a huge, lumpy package, then held out her hand. “You are, aren’t you? I’m Rory Gorenzi.”
“Any relation to Kurt?”
“Ah, yes. Yes. I’m his daughter, actually.” As if the fact surprised even her. “And you are Seamus Lee?” She sought confirmation again.
“Yes.” Kurt’s daughter was beautiful. He’d heard about her from Kurt: she’d been raised by her grandmother, Seamus was fairly certain, and she wasn’t as successful as Kurt wished, though Seamus didn’t know the details. Seamus hadn’t paid much attention to Kurt’s conversation on the matter—he’d been too worried that his own children might not turn out all right because they, like Rory Gorenzi, had no mother.
And if Elizabeth was right, an inaccessible father.
It was over three years since Janine’s death. There had seemed to be no time for his own mourning, not to mention his accompanying feelings, with his youngest child just one and not even weaned when everything changed. With the whole story unfolding around him.
How his wife had come to die that way. And his inner conviction that her death had been her own fault. Her most aggravating traits had led to her dying, and he still couldn’t forgive her—and couldn’t speak to his children because he was afraid he’d tell them how angry he was at their mother for being so fatally single-minded.
Immediately after Janine’s death, the succession of au pairs had begun.
He dragged himself away from his grim thoughts.
Rory Gorenzi wore a black snowboarding jacket, black snow pants, Sorel-style boots and mittens. Both jacket and pants were patched with duct tape, and the boots had seen more than a few seasons. “Look,” she said, “I’ve got the key to your place, and I’ll take you over there. I just need to quickly run down there…” She indicated an area across the street and half a block up, “and drop off this stuff.”
“Can I help you?” He reached out, offering to relieve her of her package, which seemed not only oddly shaped but heavy.
She sidestepped him. “Oh, I’ll get it. It’s, um, pet food. Just let me…Just—I’ll be right back.” She turned away and tripped over a crack on the sidewalk, and the parcel, envelope and book all flew out of her arms and landed in front of her, the brown paper ripping to reveal what were unmistakably dead rabbits—frozen.
Seamus ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek and bent to pick up the book and envelope while she reached for the rabbits.
“My roommate bought these in Montrose,” she explained. “Usually we have them shipped, but we ran out and had to get some while we’re waiting for our next order to arrive. I realize it looks odd. They’re for a snake. It’s not mine.”
The snake must be large, Seamus thought, to eat full-grown rabbits.
He glanced back toward a sound behind him, to find his two oldest children and Seuss, the puppy, all breathing steam in the frigid air and gazing at the scene before them with a mixture of disbelief and puzzlement.
Seuss had one ear up and one ear down, and Rory Gorenzi suddenly swallowed hard and looked away. Seamus had the strangest feeling that she was about to cry.
She said, shakily, “My dog was just put down yesterday.”
“I’m sorry,” Seamus responded politely. Though he couldn’t really imagine crying over a dog. He’d never had one until now, and he’d only agreed to the puppy in order to demonstrate, at least to himself, that he did have a relationship with his kids.
Rory seemed to make up her mind about something. She crouched down and looked at the puppy, who immediately came toward her and sat down beside her as if finally he’d found security. “You’re a handsome guy,” she said.
Eyeing the frozen rabbits with disgust, Lauren looked as though all her suspicions about the residents of Sultan had been confirmed. “What are those for?”
“My roommate has a…well, a Burmese python. She’s sort of all of ours, but…”
“Can we see it?” asked Beau, unusually engaged. “Can we watch it eat?”
“Eating’s maybe not the best time to see her,” Rory said apologetically. “She’s a bit unpredictable then.”
“How
