“Oh, here we go!” Anne turned to Rose and slowed the car, nodding at a sign: SCENIC OVERLOOK—¼ MILE. The snow fell steadily as they pulled into the parking lot, a layer of white dust covered the ground.
Thea pulled her earbuds out of her ears at the sudden stop of the car. “Where are we?”
“Just stopping to stretch our legs and look at the view.” Anne unbuckled and swiveled around. “You can take some pictures on your phone.”
“I’ll stay in the car.”
“Thea,” she snapped. “What are you— Did you re-download Instagram?” She took a breath, reeled herself back in. “Thea, please get off your phone. We’re here to enjoy ourselves, ok? Let’s just get out and take a look around. We’re not far,” she added.
Thea sighed and unbuckled, pocketed her phone, and slid out of the back of the car. She walked toward some big boulders and picnic benches at the edge of the parking lot. Anne watched her go, all skinny limbs, like a stick figure come to life. Beyond the boulders the earth dropped off, giving way to vast sky and hulking White Mountains in the distance.
“It looks like a huge painting by that painter. Oh, what’s his name? Do you know who I’m talking about?” Rose held a pretend paintbrush with one hand to the sky. “You know, with the easel and the smock and the hair? The guy Dad used to watch to relax at night.”
“Bob Ross!” Anne shrieked as the name popped into her head.
“Yes!” Rose pumped her fist in the air and her face lit up in a smile showing a small gap between her two front teeth. “Bob Ross! Oh. Oh.” The change in her mother’s face and tone was so dramatic that Anne immediately snapped her head around. Thea stood on a boulder, her back to them, straining forward to capture the view with her phone’s camera. One sneaker slipped forward, and then she was hopping on one shoe, swaying backward and then forward again. Even though Anne had already started running, she was too far away.
“Thea!” she screamed as her daughter lost the little equilibrium she had and gravity and momentum sent her over the front of the boulder into the abyss. Before Anne reached the rock, Thea’s head popped up.
“Oh my god.” Thea laughed. “I can’t believe I—” She stopped talking when she saw her mother’s face. “Mom?”
“Don’t ever do that again,” Anne panted, hugging her daughter tightly.
“Do what? I was just trying to take a picture.” Thea squirmed out of her mother’s arms as Anne wiped her eyes. “Mom, there’s a ledge. See?” She pointed to the ground jutting out, visible only from right beyond the boulders.
“Yes. I see that now.” Anne put her head between her knees. “Holy shit, Thea.”
“Mom!”
“I’m sorry. Don’t say shit. Jesus Christ.” She poked Thea’s arms and legs. “After everything you’ve been through, I want to make sure you’re ok. That nothing—is—broken.” Anne tugged and squeezed and tapped on each word. “How is your head? Does your head feel ok?”
“Mom, I fell like an inch,” Thea said, pulling away.
Rose joined them, running to Thea and embracing her tightly. “Ok, girls, back in the car. Let’s get going while we’re all in one piece.” Rose steered them both back to the SUV.
Anne settled into the front seat and waited to hear the clicks of the safety belts. She took a deep breath and placed her still trembling hands on the steering wheel and eased her foot onto the gas. “Okay! Let’s go to the cabin.”
ONE DAY
BEFORE THE CABIN
ROSE
They pulled into the cabin’s gravel driveway around six p.m., the sun long gone from the sky. Rose peered out the passenger-side window, eyes straining, as they crunched through the parking lot. It was more of a condo, really, located in a complex of other identical cabin-condo hybrids called Frosty Ridge Cabins. There were ten or so dark brown cabins scattered in a semicircle. Each with a huge window lining the front and a brick chimney peeking out of an A-line roof. Her daughter parked the car in front of Cabin #3, set toward the back of the semicircle. Rose climbed down from the car slowly, stretched, and stood for a second, taking in the cabins and the deep wooded area beyond. Most of the cabins looked uninhabited; only one cabin, right next door to theirs, had a puff of smoke billowing out of the chimney. They lugged their suitcases and canvas totes up two sets of stairs covered in packed snow. Anne tinkered with the lockbox as Rose and Thea shivered behind her. “Got it,” her daughter exclaimed, revealing a small silver key. Rose prodded her granddaughter ahead of her and then walked through the front door herself to find an immaculate yet cozy interior. Right off the entryway was the kitchen, with light brown cabinets and a large white island that opened to the living room, in the center of which sat the woodstove from the Airbnb posting Anne had sent; woodland-themed decorations (complete with two old-fashioned wooden cross-country skis nailed to the wall in an X) were sprinkled tastefully throughout the space; each bedroom housed a queen-size bed cloaked in a fluffy down comforter and a bottle of Pellegrino waited in the fridge. Rose unpacked her tote bag of goodies into the fridge and cabinets (dark chocolate, mac and cheese, cookies, Ruffles potato chips, wine, and bourbon), while Anne started a fire.
“This place is so well stocked, Anne.” Rose plucked two wineglasses from a cabinet and a handful of ice from the freezer, impressed.
“Isn’t it great? What do you think, Thee?” Anne called from the hearth.
“It’s awesome, Mom.” Thea had already zeroed in on the game shelf and was carefully removing a board game from the middle of the stack.
“That’s a good one.” Anne pointed to the box in Thea’s arms. “I used to play Trouble when I was your age.” Rose noticed her daughter’s effort to keep her tone level, but she could detect Anne’s pleasure in Thea’s small nod of warmth.
“Really?” Thea poured out the contents on to the floor, eyeing the bubble dome with dubious interest. “Do you know the rules?”
The three of them ate mac and cheese and played Trouble by the fire. Behind Thea’s head light flurries of snow fell outside the big window. Rose took in Anne’s smiles—not the tight, quick ones she’d gotten used to—genuine warmth lit up her daughter’s eyes. Maybe this was just what her daughter and granddaughter needed.
Afterward, Thea asked Rose to tuck her into bed. Rose glanced at Anne, hesitating for a second, but Anne smiled. “Great, I’ll catch up on some work.”
When Rose emerged from Thea’s bedroom a few minutes later, Anne was in a recliner by the fire, sipping wine and looking at her laptop, brow furrowed. Rose sank down on the couch and they sat in comfortable quiet, the crackling of the fire and clinking of a glass hitting the table the only noises.