“I think you’re making way too much out of it,” Annie was saying to Neil, “It’s only a snowman and yours is actually the best made of the lot.”
But Neil was not to be cajoled into good humour.
“Will you just let it go. And come away from the window, you’re encouraging them.”
Outside, the children, with the enthusiastic assistance of the adults, were cheerfully adding more and more snow in an effort to make the nose of Neil, the snowman, even longer. Inside, Neil, the iceman, was not at all amused. He sat, arms folded across his chest and glowered.
“Do you want me to stop them?” Annie asked.
“And just how do you propose to do that?”
“Well, I could, y’know, wave and do this,” she said, knocking on the windows and frowning disapprovingly.
The children carried on regardless. Annie turned and shrugged her shoulders.
“Kids eh? Can’t live with’em, can’t tie them up and mail ’em to Alaska!”
She sat down next to Neil, but if she thought that her light-hearted remark would have softened his mood, she was mistaken. There followed an awkward few minutes of silence during which the delighted shrieks of the playing children could be heard clearly. At length, Annie was relieved to see white flakes begin to flutter down past the large picture windows. The fall thickened even as she watched. Never having been very comfortable with silence, she was hugely relieved finally to have an excuse to say something. She jumped to her feet.
“The snow’s getting heavy again,” she said, gesticulating to her children still frolicking out by the snowmen, “Come...back...in,” she mouthed to them, slowly and theatrically.
Lisa saw her, but affected not to understand what her mother wanted. She shrugged, waved and ran off into the thickening blizzard.
“That girl!” Annie fumed, “If she doesn’t come back in, this instant I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” Neil cut in irritably, “Huh? Your daughter won’t come in because she doesn’t want to and she knows damn well that you won’t actually do anything to make her. Oh you’ll shout and wave your arms about like some demented diva, but she knows that you won’t actually get up off your ample butt to go out and get her.”
Genuinely shocked and offended, Annie turned to Neil, her face suddenly solemn.
“I have to stay indoors to protect my voice. You know that.”
“Oh yes, the voice. We wouldn’t want to risk any harm to that. What would all those second rate bars do for entertainment?”
Annie looked him up and down for a moment in silence.
“Y’know, Neil, you’re not a nice person anymore,” she said at last, “You have a mean streak in you and it just keeps getting wider and wider.”
Neil put his hand to his face in mock contrition.
“It’s not funny, Neil. Do you see me laughing? I was right, wasn’t I? You really are becoming an embittered old queer. Well, OK, that suits you now. But one day you’re gonna wake up and find you’ve got no friends left, because you’ve pushed all of us away. And by then you’ll be too old and too desperate to seduce any more pretty boys like poor Dave.”
“Poor Dave! Shows how much you know.”
“I know enough, Neil. I know you. And anyone can see that Dave’s a nice kid. He certainly doesn’t deserve to meet up with someone like you when you’re in one of your self-destructive moods. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”
“Then don’t look. Anyway, it’s nothing to do with you. Just keep out of other people’s business.”
“But it is my business. We’re supposed to be friends.”
“Hah, friendship, now there’s an interesting thing. Seems to me like it’s just become a licence to interfere and snoop around in other people’s lives.”
“I’m not interfering or snooping; I’m just being honest. And, honestly Neil, you should stop and think what you really want from your life, before it’s too late.”
“Oh, thank-you yes, I nearly forgot; to interfering and snooping, please add pontificating.”
“Why do you say these things?”
“What? Are we done with honesty already?”
“Neil, why do you try so hard to push people away? Everybody needs someone they can talk to.”
“Isn’t that a line from a song? Not one of yours I hope.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. So kindly butt out.”
There followed a painfully long minute of silence. Neil seemed unconcerned and stared, unfocused, at the continuously falling snowflakes at the window. Annie however was agitated; her mouth trembled, beginning to form words that remained unspoken. Finally, she had had enough.
“I don’t think I want to spend time with you anymore,” she said with quiet dignity. She rose majestically to her feet and walked slowly from the room.
Behind her, Neil slow hand-clapped his applause.
Crossing the lobby, Annie saw Dave standing at the window.
“Your boyfriend’s in there,” she said, stabbing her thumb back towards the door of the lounge.
Dave nodded, but stayed where he was. Annie stopped to look at him.
“Don’t tell me you’re pissed with him too?” she asked, trying to keep an even tone while discretely wiping a tear from her eye.
“Pissed? No. Hey, are you OK? You look like you’ve been crying.”
Annie sniffed, but shook her head defiantly.
“No I’m alright, Sweetie,” she touched his arm solicitously, “but how are you? Are you OK?”
Baffled as to why Annie was being so intense, Dave decided to ignore her concerned look and change the subject quickly.
“Sure. I was just wondering if the owners are back yet,” he said, “Have you seen them?”
“No, no I haven’t,” said Annie, reluctantly releasing his arm, “I’m sorry, would you excuse me, I have to get something from my room.”
“Sure. Catch you later.”
As Annie hurried off along the corridor, Dave was immediately almost bowled over by Lisa and Mikey as they charged into the lobby.
“That was so cool!” they shouted, “We made your snowman even better. When it stops snowing will you come out and see it? Will you? Will you? Please!”
They were each pulling at one of his hands and turning him round and round. Not knowing how to extricate himself from their grip, Dave was going around for a fourth time and beginning to feel distinctly woozy, when Bill rescued him.
“Hey you two, leave the poor man alone. He’s suffered enough.”
Bill tickled the two children. They released Dave, and Bill chased them both away along the corridor. Behind him, Jeff and Rita laughed at Dave as he stumbled dizzily against the wall. Rita offered a steadying arm.
“You’re great with kids,” she said, “Do you have any of your own?”
Jeff looked askance.
“Rita,” he whispered, nudging her.
“What?”
Jeff raised his eyebrows exaggeratedly, by way of explanation. Rita was no wiser.
“What?” she asked again.
Dave tried to help.
“Rita,” he said, “I think Jeff’s subtly trying to remind you that I’m gay.”
“Thank you,” said Jeff.
“And,” Dave continued, “he assumes that a gay guy couldn’t have kids.”
“Thank you again,” said Jeff.
“Which, of course,” Dave finished, “is nonsense.”
“Uh?”
“But, in answer to your question,” Dave continued, smiling at Jeff’s confusion, “no, I don’t have kids. I didn’t know I was any good with them till this morning; I’ve never had much to do with them, not even when I was one myself.”
“Well,” said Rita, “you’re a natural.”
“Thanks. It was cool. And the snow was awesome. Talking of which, have either of you seen the Cousins? Have they made it back yet?”
“I hope so,” said Jeff, “I’m starving. I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll be ready to eat at least half a cow. I’ll see you later. Coming Ree?”
“Yeah, in a minute.”
She turned to Dave.
“Is their pickup back?”
“Who can tell in this blizzard?”
“Good point. Have you checked if they’re down in the kitchen?”
“Er, no. I was just y’know, wondering.”
Dave was beginning to wish he hadn’t started this. Rita grabbed his sleeve.
“Then let’s find out.”
Always one to act impulsively Rita, pulling Dave after her, strode behind the reception desk. She knocked on the door but there was no reply. Opening the door, Rita had another door to her right while, to her left, was a flight of stairs leading down to the basement. The door had a frosted glass panel and Rita could see that the room was in darkness, so she turned her attention to the basement.
“Hello?” she called, descending slowly, “Hello, Mr Cousins?”
Though Dave had been released he followed on behind, but he was uneasy at this invasion of the Cousins’ private space.
“OK, they’re not here,” he whispered, “Can we go back up now?”
“No. I mean, they might be held up for hours in this snow. What time is it? Heck, it’s after midday. They’re already late, so why don’t we show some initiative and make the meal?”
“By ‘we’, you mean us?”
“Sure do.”
“And by ‘show some initiative’ you mean crash their kitchen and help ourselves to their stuff?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that. I mean, we’d be eating the food at some point even if they were here, wouldn’t we?”
“True, but could we give them more time, please?”
“OK. But, if they’re not here by one, we’ll make the meal: you and me. OK?”
“I’m not that great in the kitchen. Neil isn’t either. We eat out a lot.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun and we all gotta eat, right?”
One o’clock came and went, with no sign of the Cousins’ return from town, so Rita checked the contents of larder and freezer and, with Dave’s unskilled assistance, put together a meal for everyone.
“OK Dave, it’s nearly ready. Can you go tell the others to get places set for, what are we, twelve?”
Unable to find a bell to announce the meal, Dave went from room to room summoning everyone. At Phil and Lou’s door his knock was met first by silence and then by the appearance of a very dishevelled Phil. Dave told him that lunch was ready.
“Lunch?” said Phil, scratching his head, “What time is it?”
When Phil realised that he had slept the entire morning away he merely shrugged.
“Couldn’t get the kid to sleep till after five this morning. He slept too much yesterday, just like I told her, and then he couldn’t sleep. It was nearly daylight, for chrissake,” he yawned and scratched at the stubble on his chin, “Did we miss anything?”
“We had a snowball fight and made a couple of snowmen.”
Phil stopped, mid yawn.
“What? You got Neil outside, building a snowm-”
“No, no, Bill and Annie’s kids. Neil stayed inside with Annie.”
“Lucky Neil,” said Phil sarcastically, “or should that be, lucky Annie?”
Dave frowned. He wasn’t sure what to make of Phil.
“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, like I said, the meal’s ready.”
“Thanks. How come you’re going round calling everyone? This ain’t summer camp.”
“Because the Cousins still aren’t back from town.”
“No? So who cooked the meal? Ah, let me guess, must be Rita, am I right?”
Dave nodded.
“Yeah,” Phil continued, “there’s a woman who likes to be in charge. You’ve gotta feel sorry for Jeff, right? Wouldn’t wanna be in his shoes; he’s nearly as downtrodden as that poor old fool Bill. Now there is one sorry excuse for a man.”
Dave had heard enough. He left quickly, before having to say anything he might later have to pretend to regret.
Despite Neil’s grumbling at having been asked to help set the table and serve the food, the meal was, on the whole, an enjoyable occasion; only Annie was subdued. Between mouthfuls, in happy, high pitched voices, Lisa and Mikey related every detail of the snowball fight and the snowman competition to their mother, but she merely nodded inattentively.
After the meal, everyone congratulated and thanked Rita and Dave for the food then sat back, replete. Full stomachs had even calmed Lisa and Mikey. Outside, the snowfall was still heavy.
“When do you think the Cousins will get back?” asked Lou.
“Who knows? Could be anytime,” said Jeff, “Could be tomorrow. I guess it all depends on the snow.”
“Looks like it’s easing off a bit,” said Bill, rising slowly and walking over to the window.
Lisa and Mikey slid from their chairs and joined their father gazing, rapt, at the cascade of shifting shades of white.
“It’s so beautiful,” Lisa sighed.
Still transfixed by the tumbling flakes, she called over to Jeff.
“Jeff?”
“Yes?” he answered guardedly, cautious of being drawn into another snowball war.
“Thanks for arranging all of this. And you too Rita. This vacation’s the best ever!”
Jeff was taken aback and thoroughly pleased by the unexpected praise.
“The whole reunion thing was originally your mom’s idea. And I can’t honestly take the credit for the snow,” he smiled, cheerfully self-effacing, “But arranging the rest was easy; I found this place on the net. I’m really glad you like it here.”
Various adults, prompted by Lisa’s unselfconscious thanks, hastily added their own, and Jeff basked in their kind words. He was particularly touched to notice that even Emma was wearing a smile. Maybe his little daughter of darkness was going to be happy here after all. He allowed himself the reassuring belief that he was already making some progress in his quest to become closer to her. Perhaps things were going to be easier than expected. He settled back comfortably in his chair.
Right now, life was good. But his opportunity to savour the glow of self-satisfaction didn’t last long.
“How about Jeff and me clear this lot up?” Bill said brightly.
With sudden dismay, Jeff surveyed the cluttered detritus of a dozen meals. Amazing how quickly life punishes smugness, he thought.
But he acquiesced good-naturedly,
“Sure. Dave and Rita did all the cooking so, how about it Neil, you gonna give us a hand?”
Neil gave Jeff a withering look.
“I’ll take that as a no,” said Jeff, grinning, “but don't worry, you can cook this evening’s meal if the Cousins haven’t made it back by then.”
There was a ripple of laughter, but Neil remained impassive.
“I don’t do cooking,” he said coldly, “and I don’t wait tables either, especially when I’m paying good money to be waited on by someone else. If they don’t get back this evening, I’m leaving.”
Dave looked surprised, clearly taken aback by Neil’s outburst.
“And just how do you propose to do that?” asked Annie.
“The SUV.”
“And what about me? I like it here,” said Dave defiantly. He met and held Neil’s angry gaze, daring him to have an argument right there, in front of everyone.
But that wasn’t Neil’s way. He turned away without saying another word, but Dave knew he’d have plenty to say later, when they were alone.
“What I meant,” Annie continued, “was that the Cousins know the area and if they can’t get in here, what makes you think you’ll be able to get out. The road must be blocked or something. And it’s still snowing, so it’s only going to get worse.”
“Actually, Hon, it’s stopping,” said Bill.
Everyone turned. Bill was right. Even as they watched, the total whiteness of the view from the windows began to dissolve, revealing large dusty flakes fluttering down against the sparkling blue-white of the already settled snow. As sunlight edged through the thinning cloud, it revealed a breath-taking scene of dazzling perfection; whites, blues and the palest lilacs, all magically sparkling with thousands of tiny, glittering stars. From those watching, there came a collective sigh of appreciation. No one said a word.
Looking away from the windows, to the faces of those around him, Bill saw smiles and open-mouthed amazement; his friends, jokers and cynics, almost to a man, were, for once, hushed; startled into silence by one unexpected glimpse of perfection.
Phil was the first to break out of the spell.
“OK, if it’s stopped, we’ll take Ethan out.”
“Honey,” worried Lou, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Are you kiddin’ me? If we have another night like last night, I’ll be hitching a ride outa here with Neil. We got to get that kid tired enough to sleep, so he’s gotta get out there and get some exercise.”
“Can we come too?” Lisa and Mikey begged, already jumping with enthusiasm, “Now, now, can we go now?”
“But it’ll ruin the snow,” said Annie wistfully, “and it looks so still and perfect now…”
She fell silent, at the expressions of complete incomprehension on the faces of her two children.
“OK, OK,” she said resignedly, “go on. I guess it’ll snow again later and cover up the mess you two hoodlums are gonna make.”
“Yeh!” Mikey shouted, “Come on Lisa. Let’s get ready.”
At the door, Lisa turned back briefly, before dashing out of the room.
“Love you Mom.”
Annie smiled.
“Love you too, Sweetie,” she whispered.
Bill walked over and stood behind his wife. He put his arms around her and she lent back, letting him hug her close. She was still smiling.
“Makes up for what she said to you earlier, doesn’t it?” he whispered.
“Oh,” said Annie contentedly, “it makes up for everything.”