“How did it go?” Anne asked without looking up.
“She’s a doll.” Rose smiled and pulled a blanket over her body. She remembered when six-year-old Anne would lay her head on Rose’s stomach, giggling at the gurgling from within. “You’re my soft pillow, Mom,” she used to say. Now that Anne was an adult, Rose knew that her daughter worried about her ever-expanding middle and her health in general, and she couldn’t blame her really—Rose still worked ten-hour shifts at the bakery and took cholesterol pills to combat years of indulging on Rose’s Sweets. She always listened to her daughter’s attempts to get her to modify her diet (kale, no thank you), go part-time at the bakery, and do some light exercise, but she had no desire to make any changes.
“Are you working?” Rose asked, taking in a large mouthful of wine.
“Just responding to some e-mails. Actually”—Anne flashed her screen at Rose—“I was thinking we could go here tomorrow and then do a hike nearby.”
“A hike?” Rose laughed and stretched her feet toward the fire, “That’s ambitious.” She peered at the picture on Anne’s laptop. “That ice castle place looks beautiful, though. Very cool, honey.”
“It’s not really a hike. There’s a nature reserve with all kinds of trails about five minutes from here. More of a walk really.”
“Sounds good to me. A walk is more my style.”
“Mom, I’ve been thinking.” Anne paused, closing her computer screen. Rose sighed. She knew what was coming. “Do you think it might be time for you to go part-time at the bakery again?”
“Hmm. I don’t see why I would.” Every few months, her daughter brought it up and, in thinly veiled tones of frustration, they both pretended as if Rose might be considering it.
Anne’s voice softened. “I just think it would be nice for you to relax a bit. You could come to Burlington more and see us, work outside in your garden . . . Remember when you semiretired before Dad died? It seemed really good for you. I think Dad would want you to enjoy life.”
“I do enjoy life!” Rose set her glass down on the table, in preparation for reciting this part of the conversation. “I like working at the bakery. I get to get out of the house and see people. Dad understood that, and he supported me. But”—she smiled, taking the edge out of her voice—“I will think about it. Happy?”
Her daughter smiled back and sighed, not convinced. “Yes.”
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, Anne’s face buried in her laptop, Rose’s in the magazine she’d picked up from the coffee table. The woodstove spit out a crackle every few seconds and the snow continued to fall lightly outside.
Rose shifted on the couch and said, “Remind me to talk to you about something tomorrow night—when you’re not working.” She kept her tone light, casual.
Anne looked up from her typing briefly; the air changed for a split second. Rose kept her eyes down, studying the magazine, until her daughter said, “Sure, Mom,” and went back to her laptop. Rose flipped the page on her lap, counting to thirty in her head before stealing a glance at her daughter.
TWELVE HOURS
BEFORE THE CABIN
THE MAN
The man looked at the GPS. Three hours down, three and a half more to go. This leg of the trip was a lonely country road scattered with large, isolated houses with long, twisting driveways. He imagined gray walls, fireplaces, long wood tables where families sat and ate breakfast. He thought about stopping at one of the houses and taking a look around—they were all set far back from the main road. The perfect distance. It might be to his advantage to get it out of his system, so that he could go into tomorrow relaxed. But he tapped the gas and drove steadily, letting his mind wander back to the day of the shopping trip when he had met Susan. That same night, hours later, he’d almost drifted to sleep when his mom tiptoed in and sat at the end of his bed. She had cupped both hands around his feet and squeezed him awake.
“It was an accident, right?” she whispered. “The girl tripped?”
He took a moment to think about the question. “I don’t know.”
“Sometimes, when we have a lot on our mind, like schoolwork and chores and . . . I know you’ve really been trying to be better with your brother . . .” Her voice got low and all he could hear was deep, insistent breathing. “Sometimes we do things that we don’t mean to do. This will be our secret. There’s nothing wrong with you, ok?”
“Ok.”
He felt her waiting, still pressing his feet like the answer was somewhere between his toes. The bed lightened; it was silent again. He couldn’t be sure she was even still in the room.
“Mom.”
“Yes.” Her voice came from across the room.
“It was an accident.”
“Good boy.”
The man turned this memory over in his head as he drove; he’d learned how to be with his thoughts for hours, with no need for external interaction. Up ahead, a car braked suddenly and the man brought his mind back to the present. He could not afford to get into an accident right now. He watched as a large raccoon and five baby raccoons skittered across the road, lit up by headlights flooding them from both directions. People had stopped their vehicles for these six rodents.
For the rest of the drive, he kept his thoughts focused only on what was coming. By the time he reached the cluster of fancy cabins, he’d been driving for almost seven hours, and it was late, the pitch black punctured only by his headlights. He turned slowly into the parking lot and drove past the wooden sign shaped like a mountain range that announced: FROSTY RIDGE CABINS. It was too dark to see much of anything, but he pointed his lights toward the two cars in the lot—a large black Lexus SUV and a blue RAV4—and memorized the licenses plates before he made his way back out to the main road. He pulled off into a small clearing and reclined his seat, the engine still running. His eyes burned. He strained to keep them open, but eventually he gave in to the heaviness. He would sleep for a few hours, wake up refreshed and ready for the day.
When he woke, the sun streamed through the windshield like it was trying to crack the glass, and the gas meter sat just above empty. The clock read nine a.m. He made a U-turn and drove back to the Frosty Ridge complex, this time slowly easing his way around the empty parking lot. He’d fucked up; she was gone.
SIX HOURS
BEFORE THE CABIN
ANNE
It was clear as soon as they pulled into the parking lot that this was a bad idea. Anne had hyped it up over breakfast as a “cool surprise” but she could see from Thea’s embarrassed expression that she had miscalculated. Shrieking toddlers raced through the parking lot, pointing at the massive ice structure. Disney character mascots roamed around, posing for pictures and giving hugs to fanatic three- and four-year-olds.