by Mary Daheim
“You’re not in snow. It’s plowed.”
“So far. But who knows what’s up ahead?”
The narrow road zigged and zagged, climbing higher into
the mountains. During the brief intervals when the cousins
could see more than a few feet, they noticed that the trees
grew more sparsely, and were of a different variety than the
evergreens below the snow line. Judith counted lodge-pole
pine, western larch, Engelmann spruce, and Noble fir.
“You should have let me drive,” Judith said. “I could have
taken the Subaru. What if we get into a snowstorm on the
way home this afternoon? You’ll panic and kill us.”
“I’ll panic and let you drive,” Renie responded, already
looking rather grim. “Bill said the Chev would hold the road
better because it’s so big.”
Heavy iron gates stood directly in front of them. Fortunately, they were open. Renie drove through, accelerated up
a little rise, and hit pavement again. “Thank goodness,” she
murmured.
They were no longer on a road but in a sweeping drive
which lead to the lodge and a large parking area. “Who owns
this place?” Judith asked, peering through the foggy clouds
at skimpy views of weathered logs and stone chimneys.
“It’s privately owned,” Renie said, heading for the nearest
parking spot. As far as the cousins could tell, no other
vehicles were present. “It used to belong to the park service
years ago, but it’s changed hands several times. Some group
in the city owns it, and at one time, Frank Killegrew
18 / Mary Daheim
was involved in a partnership with other downtown investors. Now, it’s mostly doctors and dentists who rent it
out to private parties. Not just conferences and retreats like
the previous owners, I gather, but ski groups and church
organizations and whoever else is willing to pay the freight.
This new bunch shut it down last summer and did some
renovations to bring everything up to speed. I don’t think
the lodge rental comes cheap.”
Judith understood why after they carried the first load of
comestibles inside. The lobby was vast, with a high, arched
ceiling hung with multicolored banners. Built entirely of pine
logs, the old wood gleamed under the lights of a half-dozen
cast-iron candelabra suspended from the rafters. Animal skins
and stuffed heads decorated the walls, and the huge stone
fireplace was filled with cedar and fir, awaiting the touch of
a match.
“It’s grand,” Judith said, smiling in appreciation. “Where’s
the staff?”
“I told you, nobody’s here but us and the OTIOSE gang,”
Renie said, setting a carton of groceries down on the hardwood floor. “The staff was due to take off about nine this
morning. The caretaker lives in a cabin about a half-mile
from the lodge, but he won’t be around, either. I was told
he’d leave the door open so we could get in. I don’t think
the phone company folks will be here much before noon.”
“Where’s the kitchen?” Judith turned every which way,
taking in the rustic furnishings, all made of wood and covered
in rich, dark nubby fabrics.
Renie gestured to french doors on her left. “That looks like
the dining room, so I assume the kitchen is off of that. Let’s
finish unloading, and then we can snoop around.”
Three more trips were required to deposit Judith’s weekend
supplies. As Renie had guessed, the kitchen was at the far
side of the dining room. While the lodge appeared to have
been built during the thirties, the kitchen facilities were state
of the art. Judith rubbed her hands in glee as she
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 19
ogled the stainless-steel American range, the Belgian cookware, the German cutlery, and the French skillets.
“This is wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to start
right in on lunch. Ham-filled crepes, raddicchio salad, a fresh
fruit medley, four kinds of cheese, and puff pastries with a
blackberry and cream filling.”
“Go for it,” Renie said, turning toward the door. “I’m going
to the conference room on the other side of the lobby to set
up my stuff.”
“Okay,” Judith replied, still distracted by all the latest appliances and gadgets. Then, as Renie exited, it dawned on
Judith that something was out of kilter. “Coz!” she called.
“What’s with you? Aren’t you hungry?”
Renie turned in the doorway. “No. I’ve got work to do.
That’s why I’m here.”
Judith stared. Renie was always ravenous. She ate often
and in large amounts. It never ceased to amaze Judith how
her cousin could consume so much food and stay slim. Metabolism, Judith told herself, and envied Renie’s gene pool.
All her life, Judith had fought to keep weight off, and only
now, in her fifties, did she feel comfortable with a couple of
extra pounds on her tall, statuesque figure.
“Do you feel okay?” Judith finally asked.
“Yes. Yes, I feel fine.” Renie sounded cross. “It’s going on
eleven. I’ve got to get organized. Good luck.” She disappeared from sight.
Judith didn’t have time to worry about her cousin’s sudden
lack of appetite. For the next hour, she immersed herself in
making crepes, dicing ham, rolling out puff pastry, and cutting up fruit. It was a joy to work under such splendid conditions, and best of all, with no interruptions from guests,
the telephone, or her mother.
The bus arrived at ten to twelve. Judith didn’t hear it pull
in, but Renie came to alert her. “It’s actually a big van,” she
told Judith from the doorway. “The driver won’t stay, of
course. He’s already headed back to the city.”
Judith, who was in the middle of fashioning her puff
20 / Mary Daheim
pastries, merely nodded. “Lunch at twelve-thirty, right?”
“Right.” Renie left again.
The lodge’s staff had already set up a large round table
for ten in the dining room. Judith checked the table settings,
admired the centerpiece of yellow gladioli, purple freesia and
white lilies, then returned to the kitchen. She was filling the
industrial-size coffeemaker when a small woman with big
glasses and a platinum blonde pageboy entered the kitchen.
“Are we on schedule?” the woman asked, tapping a huge
wristwatch that looked as if it could weigh down her arm.
“We are,” Judith replied with a smile. “My name’s Judith
Flynn.” She wiped her hands on a cloth and reached out to
the other woman.
“Nadia Weiss, administrative assistant,” Nadia replied with
a faint New York accent. She didn’t budge, let alone shake
hands. “If you have any problems, come to me.” With a swish
of cashmere skirts, she departed.
Judith uttered a self-conscious little laugh and went back
to work. Two minutes later, another woman appeared in the
doorway. “You must be the caterer,” she said.
Judith looked up from the crepe pan she was heating on
the stove. A slim, plain woman of Chinese ances
try fixed
mesmerizing dark eyes on Judith. “Yes,” she gulped. “I’m
Judith Flynn.”
“The caterer,” the other woman said in a tone that indicated
Judith wasn’t a person, she was merely a service. “My name’s
Margo Chang. If a Ms. Weiss contacts you, ignore her. I’m
the vice president in charge of public relations, and I handle
jobbers like you.”
Judith imagined that a small smirk tugged at Margo’s tight,
thin mouth. “Okay,” Judith said, still subdued. “If I need
anything, I’ll ask you.”
“You shouldn’t need anything. You should have come
prepared.” Margo’s voice dropped a notch in what sounded
to Judith like a threat.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 21
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” Judith said hastily.
Margo gave a curt nod and left. Judith’s wide shoulders
relaxed. She stiffened again when she heard someone else
enter the kitchen. To her relief, it was Renie.
“Thank heavens!” Judith cried. “I’ve just been visited by
two of the three witches.”
“Which ones?” Renie asked. “By my count there’re four.”
Judith winced. “Are all the women who work for this outfit
like Ms. Weiss and Ms. Chang?”
Renie’s round face grew thoughtful. “I’m not sure. By
chance, I’ve dealt mostly with those two. You have to realize,
coz, that I don’t know most of these people very well myself.
I’ve only done a handful of smaller projects until now.”
“But you’ve actually worked with the ones I just met?” Judith was aghast.
Renie nodded as she surveyed her cousin’s handiwork in
the kitchen. “I’m used to it. You have to remember that all
these executive types must be fairly tough to get to the top.
The women have to be even tougher.”
Judith, who was slicing kiwi, looked a bit puzzled. “But
Whatshername—Weiss, right?—isn’t a vice president or an
officer. Or is she?”
“That’s the problem,” Renie said, leaning against the
marble countertop. “She feels she should be. As administrative assistant, she wields a lot of power, but she doesn’t get
the same perks or the big salary. In the last few years that
I’ve dealt with Nadia and the p.r. v.p., Margo, I haven’t seen
any love lost between them. Nor with Andrea and Ava, if it
comes to that.”
“Andrea and Ava? They sound like a dance team.” Judith
tried to visualize the list Renie had given her. “Which ones
are they?”
Renie smiled indulgently. “Ava Aunuu is vice president–information technology services. Andrea Piccoloni-Roth is vice
president–human resources, which used to be
22 / Mary Daheim
known as personnel. I’ve never understood the name change
in a world that keeps dehumanizing people.”
A quick glance at the digital clock on the stainless-steel
range told Judith that it was 12:25. “I’d better start serving
the food. When are you going to eat?”
Renie shrugged. “Later. I don’t like to make presentations
on a full stomach.”
Judith started to say, since when? , thought better of it, and
began dishing the fresh fruit onto heavy brown earthenware
plates. “I’m surprised they didn’t ask for a buffet.”
“Everything else will be buffet,” Renie said, rummaging in
her big purse. “Since you’re here only for one meal, they
decided they’d like it to be a sit-down event.” Renie took out
a package of cigarettes and lighted up.
“Coz!” Judith almost dropped a crepe. “What are you do-
ing?”
“Smoking,” Renie responded through a thin haze.
“You don’t smoke! You haven’t smoked since we went to
Europe where we had to smoke!”
“Well, I’m smoking now.” Renie sounded unnaturally
calm. She exhaled a large blue puff.
Judith was flabbergasted. She herself had quit smoking
almost ten year earlier, and had never quite gotten over her
desire to start again. Renie, however, was another matter:
She had been what Judith called a party smoker, enjoying
cigarettes only when accompanied by reasonable amounts
of adult beverages and loud decibels of rock ’n roll.
But there was no time to discuss her cousin’s newly acquired vice. “I could use some help with these plates,” Judith
said, picking up two of them.
“Can’t.” Renie puffed some more. “It’d ruin my image.”
“Very funny,” Judith said, heading for the dining room.
“Hold the plates steady. I don’t want to screw up the
presentation.”
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 23
“I’m not kidding,” Renie called after her. “I can’t help you.”
Judith stopped at the door and turned to look at her
cousin. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m serious.” Renie had put on what Judith referred to as
her cousin’s boardroom face. “I can’t be a waitress one
minute and a graphic designer the next. Those people out
there would think I was nuts.”
For the first time, Judith had a glimpse of Serena Grover
Jones, graphics specialist to the stars. Or whatever. While
she’d watched Renie at work in her basement office, she’d
never actually seen her deal with clients. Judith wasn’t sure
she liked her cousin in this other guise.
“Fine,” said Judith, annoyed. “I’ll manage without you.”
The OTIOSE executives were clustered in little groups of
twos and threes. Judith tried to place them, but recognized
only Nadia, who was chatting with a self-possessed AfricanAmerican man, and Margo, who had been cornered by a
wildly gesticulating male whose thinning fair hair stood up
in several places on his very round head.
On the third and fourth trips, Judith managed to carry
four plates at a time. The conferees still seemed absorbed in
their various conversations. Not wanting the crepes to get
cold, Judith picked up a spoon and tapped a water glass.
“Luncheon is served,” she announced.
No one paid any attention. Judith tapped the glass again
and raised her voice. Nothing happened. Judith hesitated.
Then, at precisely twelve-thirty, Nadia Weiss glanced at
her big watch. “Lunch!” she bellowed.
A stampede of conservatively dressed animals headed for
the table. Judith back-pedaled out of the way just before a
very large man with a completely bald head and a wizened
little fellow with buck teeth almost ran right over her. A
moment later, everyone was seated. No one so much as
looked at Judith.
24 / Mary Daheim
Feeling humbled, she returned to the kitchen where Renie
was lighting another cigarette. “Coz!” Judith cried. “What is
all this? You’re smoking, you’re not eating, you’ve turned
into a stranger!”
Renie examined her fingernails. “I’m working. You’re not
used to it, that’s all. Don’t you behave a bit differently with
your guests than you do when you’re with me or Joe or your
m
other?”
“Of course,” Judith replied. “But it’s not just that.
It’s…this.” She jabbed a finger at Renie’s cigarette.
“And…that.” She pointed to the untouched leftovers on the
marble counter.
Renie expelled more smoke and a big sigh. “Okay, okay.
We haven’t seen much of each other since the holidays because I’ve been putting this presentation together and you’ve
been really busy with the B&B. You know my eggnog diet?”
Judith knew it well, though she was skeptical about how
it worked. Renie claimed that from Thanksgiving until New
Year’s, she lived on eggnog, the richer the better. It was one
of her favorite things, and she refused to dilute it with milk
or liquor. Because she was so busy with holiday preparations
and annual report designs, there was barely time to eat. Thus,
she fueled herself with eggnog from morning until night, and
insisted that since she wasn’t eating many regular meals, she
actually lost instead of gained weight over the holidays.
“I flunked it,” Renie declared. “The eggnog diet finally
failed me. Or I failed it.”
Judith couldn’t help but laugh. “Coz! You mean you didn’t
lose weight this year?”
Renie shook her head. “Not only that, I gained seven
pounds. I’m wearing my fat suit.”
The tailored brown wool with the faux fur collar didn’t
look like a fat suit to Judith. “I can’t tell you’ve gained anything,” she said.
“I have,” Renie insisted, patting her midsection. “This
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 25
outfit is just camouflage. I should be wearing Armani for the
presentation, but trying to get into my other suits is like
squeezing toothpaste back into the tube. It just doesn’t quite
make it.”
Judith’s amusement faded. “So you’re starving yourself
and smoking? That’s dumb, coz.”
“Only until I lose seven pounds. Two are already gone or
I wouldn’t have gotten into this suit, either.” Renie stubbed
her cigarette out in a saucer. “I had to do something with
my mouth and hands before I went to the post-holiday sales
and bought up all the Russell Stover chocolate Santas I could
find.”
Judith recalled how Renie had eaten her way through
seventy-eight dollars worth of chocolate bunnies during an
infamous Lenten season a few years earlier. Her cousin loved