Vanessa, dressed now in white silk trousers and shirt separated by a gold belt, stared after him, her brow wrinkled in confusion. The informal dress code at the lodge had changed, Anne thought. Nothing to do about it now, she decided, remembering that she brought only one formal outfit, for the wedding, and the rest casual tops for her favourite jeans.
"Will that change your plans?" she said to Vanessa.
Vanessa shot a venomous glance and said, "Certainly not."
What was that about, Anne thought. She wasn't responsible for the storm.
"It might, darling, if the minister can't get here," said David, coming up behind her and putting his arm around her.
Vanessa gasped, but before she spoke, the doorbell rang.
"I thought everyone was here who was coming this evening. Did you invite someone without consulting me?" Vanessa said.
"That must be Trevor and Carmel," said a voice behind them.
Andrea, who looked like a pleasant grandmother with her round face and bright blue eyes, had a severe drinking problem and bad temper, Anne knew. She glanced at Thomas, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
"I thought you wouldn't mind, David, since others of my family is here,” said Andrea.
Her voice dragged. Drinking still a problem for her then, Anne thought. What a jolly weekend this would be.
The roar of the staff vehicles racing away from the lodge drowned out the conversation at the door between Andrea and the arriving couple. Cold seeped around the corner from the foyer and into the long room.
"Everyone, please meet Trevor and Carmel Baker," Andrea said.
"How are these people your family, and why did you ask them?" said Vanessa, her voice icy.
Trevor, a stocky man with flaming red hair and a shy manner, rocked back on his heels. His wife, her oval madonna face framed with thin chestnut curls, squeezed his arm.
"Trevor is Karen's brother and Hamish's uncle," said Andrea.
Karen's brother. How difficult was that going to be, Anne thought. She glanced at Thomas, but his eyes were on the scene outside.
"If we're unwelcome, we can leave," Trevor said.
As if in answer, the storm hit, an onslaught of wind that howled in the chimneys and rain that pelted the windows.
"Not for a while," said Thomas.
Chapter Two
A few moments later, a young woman, twenty-five years old or so, came down the stairs and crossed the room to where they stood. She carried a toddler in her left arm and held hands with a child perhaps five years old, her blond curls subdued into ponytails on either side of a gamine face. Her face broke into a delighted grin, she detached herself from her minder, and launched herself at David, hugging his legs. He scooped her into his arms.
"Uncle David, Eloise didn't want to come, but I fussed at her, and she brought us."
"You know you're not to fuss at Eloise."
"But the rain is so loud."
"It's all right. Everyone, this is my ward, Olivia, her nanny Eloise Leclerc and baby Hamish."
He put Olivia down and took the toddler into his arms.
"Dadda."
Ready-made family indeed, Anne thought. Why does the little girl call him Uncle? Perhaps he shares custody with her mother. She glanced at Vanessa and was startled by the lip-curling disgust on her face.
"David, our guests need some dinner," Vanessa said.
"Eloise, take the children into the kitchen,"
"But I want to stay," Olivia said.
"Go with Eloise," Vanessa said.
Eloise, a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman with a square face and a resolute jaw, took the baby from David's arms, grasped Olivia's hand, and marched to the kitchen door.
The little girl's eyes filled with tears and gazed back at David before going through the door.
Anger flashed across David's face, turning him at that moment into an image of his dead father. "Was it necessary to send them out?" he said.
"Yes. Food is laid on next door," Vanessa said and sailed away towards the dining room.
Waiting for the others to go ahead, Anne said to Thomas, "Not so jolly with children, is she?"
"You caught that look?"
"I did."
"Let's go in. This may be our last hot meal. The way the storm is building up, we may lose power."
Windows soared on two sides of the dining room, the equal in width to the living room but shorter by twenty feet, a pleasing square. A stone fireplace on the end wall lit the scene with orange flames while overhead two art-nouveau chandeliers cast a leafy pattern across white linen. Three ruby-shaded lamps glowed down the centre of the table. Pleasing smells of roast beef wafted down the room. Platters filled the centre of the table and old-fashioned silver chafing dishes lined up along the sideboard.
Anne and Thomas found themselves at opposite sides and opposite ends of the table. Anne's companion on her right was David at the head of the table; opposite sat Andrea Barrington. Kevin and Beth took chairs on either side of the table. Both dressed in fashionable New-York black. It didn't suit Beth. She should wear vivid colours to accent her dark hair and deep blue eyes. Kevin, looking robust and healthy even with his gaunt face, smiled from time to time at his wife. Perfect American teeth, Anne thought before recalling that they were, in fact, Canadian even though they lived in New York.
A small group for a wedding. She assumed other expected guests missed the dinner because of the storm. Vanessa glowered at the other end of the table with Thomas on her right and Brad at her left.
"To my beautiful bride," said David, raising his glass.
"To Vanessa," echoed around the table as they all lifted champagne flutes.
An excellent wine, Anne thought, but across the table, Andrea placed an untouched glass back on the table. Why did Andrea mime drinking the toast? She usually didn't miss a chance to drink champagne. At her right, David's eyes focussed on Vanessa at the other end. A fleeting thought or something furrowed his forehead, he lowered his head, and frowned at the tablecloth.
The table chatter went on, drowned out at intervals by a fresh onslaught of ice against the windows from the black void beyond. At times, thunder boomed, and lightning lit the scene. Ice coating the needles of the fir trees that surrounded the lodge flashed with each strike.
"Thundersnow," Brad said.
"Hardly snow," Vanessa said. "Let's return to the living room."
Anne wondered who would clean up the table, but decided she wasn't offering this time. The last visit to the lodge, she spent most of her time in the kitchen preparing meals and washing dishes.
Two dogs, one a black standard poodle with a puppy clip and the other, grey and shaggy and of mixed ancestry hurried off the sofa where they'd curled up near the fire.
"David, get your dogs out of here. Now their dirt and hair will be all over the sofa," Vanessa said.
"Come," David called to the dogs from the kitchen door.
The shaggy dog, Max, bounded over to him, but Andy, the poodle, stopped to say hello to Anne, who rubbed the dog's chin and scratched behind her ears.
"Put them outside," Vanessa said.
"The ice-storm," David said.
"What does that matter? They have a kennel."
"No. Not tonight."
Vanessa followed him into the kitchen, and raised voices reached them for a moment before she returned. Brad turned the television on again to the weather channel.
Returning, Vanessa, flushed and brusque said, "Must we watch that? Liqueurs or cognac, anybody?"
"Yes, cognac," said Andrea.
"We're leaving tonight if the weather is going to let up," said Brad.
"Before the wedding?" Vanessa said.
"I doubt that you're getting married this weekend," said Andrea, in a satisfied voice.
"David, David," Vanessa screamed.
After he came through the door, she rushed to him and whispered. He put his arms around her, but she tossed them off and raced up the stairs. David ran up after her.
"Let's go to bed," Thomas said. "All this drama is way too much."
They reached the foot of the stairs when a doorbell rang an SOS and fists pounded at the kitchen door. They raced in as David clumped down the back stairs.
Ice on the snowmobile helmet obscured the features of the man at the door. Ice coated his parka and, already thawing, dripped onto the grey-tiled kitchen floor.
When the man lifted off the helmet, Anne recognized Mike Lawrence, a fellow who arrived during their last stay in Haliburton in time to help with the guests. A good-natured local man with an engaging grin and thinning dark hair, he'd been Anne's partner in dishwashing and food preparation. He was affable and unflappable. Anne liked him and appreciated his common sense.
"What brings you out in the storm, Mike?" David said.
"I was out, checking my traps before the ice hit. I just made it. Machine died out there."
"You'd better take off that wet parka and pants," said Anne.
"Hi, Anne. You and Thomas here for the wedding? Say, David. What about the reverend? Is he here or—"
"Nope."
"So no wedding tomorrow?"
David shook his head and grimaced. "Not unless it thaws overnight and Vanessa is none too happy. I'm glad you're here. I'm going to need help keeping that furnace going."
Mike nodded his head and pointed a hand towards the wood box by the stove.
"You got plenty of wood?"
"Yeah, if we can get to it."
"I thought you had a heat pump, David?" Anne said.
"It failed in October and I put in one of those outdoor boilers until the spring. But with this ice, I don't know."
"She'll be okay if we can keep her fired up," said Mike. "Is she okay for now? I'm about froze through."
"Yes, for a while."
At that moment, the lights flickered and failed.
"How long before the generator kicks in?" Mike said.
"Two minutes."
"How much fuel do you have?"
"Twenty-four hours, give or take."
"Think it will be enough?"
"If we're careful."
Somewhere upstairs, someone, Vanessa, Anne thought, shrieked for David. He cocked his head but waved the summons away.
Anne and Thomas left them as they discussed plans for conserving fuel and climbed the stairs to their room.
Their bedroom repeated the theme from the living room below, with exposed logs and flooring of reclaimed pine. Old as the wood was, the walls still gave off the woodsy scent of cedar. More personality in this room, she thought, more comfortable than the communal spaces.
David told her his father commissioned a craftsman to make the bed from timber rescued from the depths of the Ottawa River. The ancient pine glowed in the light from the stained glass shades of lamps standing on bedside-tables of the same wood. Across from the bed, French doors opened to a balcony. Flames leaped and crackled in the fireplace. Thomas fed it, undressed, and climbed into bed.
"How lovely," Anne said.
"Not as lovely as you are."
She undressed, taking care to hang her clothes neatly in the closet. If they stayed for more than two days, she would run out of clothes.
Later, with her head tucked into Thomas's bare shoulder, she said, "Odd all the same people from last year are here."
"I doubt David intended to have only this bunch. I think the rest of the guests cancelled."
"Somehow, I wish we had too."
Chapter Three
Early the next morning, Eloise opened the door to the back stairs. Voices in the kitchen reached her, and she crept down to where she could see into the room. That was Mike, she thought. And Vanessa.
"Hello, sweetheart. How's it going?"
"Don't call me that. What are you doing here? I thought we agreed—"
"I got caught in the storm on my way back to town."
"Leave."
Vanessa, dressed in a filmy lace peignoir, her face suffused with an unbecoming red, pushed Mike towards his coat. He grabbed her wrist and turned her to face the window over the sink. "No chance. Have you checked outside?"
"I don't care."
On cue, an elderly pine across the field shrieked as the leader branch fell under the weight of the ice. Ice-thickened rain coated the windows and obscured the view of the broken giant.
"You're not getting married today, anyway."
Mike poured two cups of coffee and sat at the cafe table in the windowed alcove. Vanessa hesitated but slipped into the chair opposite. "We could pretend you're one of those mail-order ministers?"
"No, we couldn't. Not in Ontario. You need a license from the province and a proper marriage license for the happy couple. Don't you remember from the first time?"
"I'd rather not."
The dogs, roused by the voices, trotted into the kitchen and sat by Mike, noses up and eyes begging.
"Get rid of those."
"What do you have against the dogs?"
"Dogs, kids. They're all going after we're married and that woman will be out of here, too."
"What woman?"
"Eloise."
"The cute little Frenchie? Why?"
"She's in love with David."
"And she's younger."
Eloise, her heart pounding, tiptoed up the stairs to the nursery. Get rid of her and the children, not to mention the dogs. What was she going to do? Should she tell David?"
Vanessa swivelled in her chair towards the staircase. “What was that?"
"What was what?"
"I heard something on the stairs. Where did you put the dogs?"
"The living room. Where else? What's the matter with you? I thought you were getting all you wanted from this act of yours."
"He owes me."
"Who owes you?"
"David, his father. All the Thwaites."
Mike passed his hand over the grey-streaked stubble on his chin. Why was he looking at her like that? What did he know that she didn't?
"You'll be in big trouble if anyone finds out."
He wanted money. That was what he said before.
"I don't have any money."
"You will, Van. You will. David is a very generous guy."
"You'll not—"
"Gravy train for both of us, my sweet."
"I want my share. The old man was my father, too."
"Take that up with David. Did the old man know you existed?"
"Tell David. Are you crazy? No."
He knew everything, she thought. What was she going to do?
"Relax. I'm not here to sink your boat. You'd better dress. I hear people out there."
"That McPhail woman was watching me."
"She watches everything. Hurry."
She rushed up the back stairs to her room, locked the door behind her, and flung herself on her bed. What could she do? Could she trust Mike?
That same morning, Anne propped herself on an elbow and gazed out at the leaden sky. Freezing rain pelted down, so heavy and thick with ice that it obscured the lake and the forest. Thomas mumbled, turned over, and slept on. She dressed and left for the kitchen.
"Good morning, Eloise," said Anne, cutting bread at the counter as the young woman trooped in with the two children, Olivia in a fluffy pink housecoat decorated with butterflies and Hamish in a miniature dressing gown in the dark blue and red McKnight tartan over his Curious George pyjamas.
Anne popped slices of bread into the toaster and set the percolator on the woodstove. Coffee was always a welcoming smell, she thought, as the bubbling began.
"Is it? I can't see past all that ice."
"We're safe inside, warm and dry and food coming. Might be worse."
* * *
The kitchen, its log walls covered with drywall painted a cheerful daffodil, overlooked the field behind the house, or did when the view wasn't obscured by ice. A pine
table surrounded by eight press-back chairs filled the middle of the room. Anne found scarlet mats in a drawer for each place setting and handed serviceable white plates to Eloise, along with the children's eggcups, a puppy for Olivia and a rooster for Hamish.
"I'm sorry, Anne. I heard—"
Eloise's dark eyes misted with tears, but before she spoke, David and Mike, coming in, tramped snow and ice off their boots and hung their parkas near the woodstove.
"Who got this going?" said Mike.
"I did," Anne said."We had one in our cottage when I was young."
"Can you cook on it, too?" asked David.
He lifted the old white percolator from the hotplate on the stove, smelled and poured himself a cup.
"If needs be."
"And how are you this morning, Olivia?" said David.
"I didn't sleep a wink."
Anne and Eloise swallowed their laughter as David sat down beside the serious little girl. "And why not?"
"Something scratched at my window."
David put his arm around her. "It's only the storm, the same as when the rain and the wind rattle the windows. This time the rain turned to ice instead of snow."
"I don't like it."
"It will stop soon. Here is Eloise with your egg and toast soldiers."
Eloise moved to the stove to get another egg for Hamish.
So that was how it was, thought Anne, as she intercepted the smile and adoring glance that Eloise flashed towards David. But David didn't seem to notice as he dipped rectangles of buttered toast into the soft-boiled egg for each child in turn.
"How is the wood supply holding up?" Anne asked.
"Plenty for now," Mike said.
"Would you bring more for the stove when you go out next?"
"Are you planning to do the cooking again this time?" Mike asked.
"When did you do the cooking here?" Eloise asked.
No one answered for a moment, and David kept his eyes on the children.
"We were in a similar situation in a heavy snowstorm a year ago. Everyone had to pitch in."
"The children are finished," David said. "I'll take them into the living room. You and Anne eat your breakfasts."
The Ice Storm Murders Page 3