Snow Place to Die

by Mary Daheim

  “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 ancestry 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.

  “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 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 doing?”

  “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.”

  “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 African-American 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.

  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 mother?”

  “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 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 Russell Stover’s chocolate almost as much as she loved eggnog.

  “I certainly hope you can quit smoking when the weight’s off,” Judith said darkly. “God knows, it was tough for me to give it up.” Her dark eyes strayed to the open cigarette pack Renie had left on the counter.

  “I will,” Renie said complacently. “I’ll do it for Lent.”

  Judith was about to mention the chocolate bunnies when the cousins heard a commotion in the dining room. Renie remained in place, but Judith went to see what was going on.

  At first, she thought it was a food fight. Then she realized that only two people were involved: A plump, pretty woman with upswept silver hair had just thrown a handful of raddicchio salad at Margo Chang. The white wine vinegar dressing and the hand-shredded magenta leaves clung to Margo’s flat chest.

  “Now, now,” said a jovial voice. Judith recognized the speaker. She had seen Frank Killegrew’s picture in the newspaper often enough to realize that he was the broad-shouldered, balding man in the well-cut charcoal suit who had a slide rule next to his place setting. “We’re steering this ship on a steady course. Let’s not get personal, ladies,” Killegrew urged good-naturedly.

  Margo whirled on Killegrew, who was seated two places down the table on her left. “I’m not a lady! I’m a person!”

  “You’re a slut!” the silver-haired woman shouted, plump shoulders shaking with wrath.

  “That’s kind of mean,” said a tall, lean man on the woman’s right. “Couldn’t we all sort of simmer down?”

  “Why should we?” demanded a handsome woman who looked as if she might be Samoan. “Don’t we come on these retreats to air our differences?”

  “Now, now,” Killegrew repeated, though not quite so jovially, “we don’t have that many differences. We’re a team, a seaworthy crew.” The gray eyes suddenly took on a steellike quality as he gazed at the silver-haired woman. “Andrea, pull yourself together.” His gaze shifted to Margo. “You’d better clean up, what do you say?”

  Margo said nothing, but got up from the table, threw her napkin onto the floor, and marched past Judith to the kitchen. Judith followed.

  “Hi, Margo,” Renie said, revealing only a flicker of astonishment at the spray of salad on the other’s woman’s chest. “How’s it going?”

  Margo glared at Renie. “Terrible! Andrea Piccoloni-Roth is such a bitch that I can hardly stand to be in the same room with her! See what she did?”

  “Owie!” Renie said in a sympathetic tone. “That’s an oil base. You’d better not try to spot it or it’ll set and stain.”

  “I know,” Margo replied. “I’ll have to change. For now, I just want to scrape off the garbage.” She went to the big enamel sink and carefully began removing the raddicchio from her pinstripe coat dress.

  “Basically, I went with your colors for the corporate logo,” Renie said. “I only tweaked them a little. You’ve got a good eye, Margo.”

  “You can’t go wrong with black on red,” Margo replied, grimacing as she took in the damage to her outfit. “You did keep that concept, didn’t you?” Her almond eyes pinioned Renie.

  Renie, however, seemed unperturbed. “I reversed it. TIOSE isn’t a firefighting unit, it’s a telecommunications company. You use a red background, you’re stuck with it for everything. It’s too hot, it lacks class. Black is much more versatile. You’ll like it when you see it. Your basic colors were a great idea.”

  If Margo was taken aback, she didn’t show it. “Okay, we’ll see. I still think red is vivid and eye-catching. I’ve got Ward Haugland’s vote on that. Max Agasias is in my corner, too.”

  Renie chuckled softly. “I didn’t realize it was a democratic process.”

  Margo’s smooth skin darkened. “It should be.” With great thoroughness, she wiped her hands on a towel. “You’re on in thirty minutes,” she said to Renie. “I hope you’re ready.”

  Renie smiled and inclined her head. Margo left the kitchen. Judith started putting the puff pastry on dessert plates.

  “She’s dangerous, coz,” Judith said. “Don’t these people scare you?”

  “Not anymore. I don’t know what went on out there in the dining room, but I’d guess that one or more of them was acting like a big brat. That’s what they are—spoiled children. You have to treat them like that. Let them have their little tantrums and allow them to show off a bit and give them an occasional ego-massage. Then yank the chain. Every so often, they have to get a dose of reality. If they don’t like it, I peddle my wares someplace else.”

  Judith didn’t try to hide her admiration of Renie. “You don’t worry about losing clients?”

  Renie shook her head. “That’s bound to happen. But the marketplace is vast these days. If I lose somebody, two more pop up. Besides, I don’t intend to lose this bunch. Unless,” she added with a little laugh as she reached for another cigarette, “they die on me.”

  It didn’t occur to Judith that Renie’s little joke might not be so funny.

  THREE

  AS SHE’D PREDICTED, Renie’s presentation went well. “There were the usual glitches,” Renie reported to Judith three hours later, “and of course they got to arguing among themselves. But Killegrew still has the last word, and he seemed very pleased.”

  Judith gave Renie’s shoulder a congratulatory pat. “Good for you, coz. I was worried, especially after that scene in the dining room.”

  “You can tell me about that now,” Renie said, opening a duffel bag and pulling out a pair of old slacks and a Georgetown University sweatshirt. “I didn’t want to know about it before I went onstage. It might have distracted me.”

  While Renie changed, Judith recounted what she knew of the incident between Margo Chang and Andrea Piccoloni-Roth. “Mr. Killegrew took charge, and everything sort of calmed down. There was another man who intervened, a tall, lean guy with a faint drawl.”

  “Ward Haugland,” Renie said promptly. “He’s the executive vice president, remember?”

  Judith did, vaguely. “The only other one who spoke up was a woman who looked as if she was Samoan. I guessed her to be Ava Aunuu.”

  “Exactly.” Renie slipped into thigh-high boots. “Ava’s a computer whiz. Frank Killegrew raided her from one of the big computer companies about four years ago and immediately made her a vice president. She’s only in her thirties, but I’ve been told that she’s the person most responsible for bringing OTIOSE up to speed in terms of technology. Frank’s strictly from the old school of engineering. That’s why he keeps his tru
sty slide rule at his side. I don’t think he’s figured out how to use a computer, let alone apply the new technology to modern communications.”

  Judith only half-heard Renie’s comments. It was a quarter after four, and she was taking final inventory of the foodstuffs she’d arranged for the rest of the weekend.

  “Just before we leave, I’ll set up the supper buffet,” Judith said, removing the soiled apron she’d worn since arriving at the lodge. “They plan to eat at seven, right?”

  “Yes.” Renie reached for her cigarettes, saw Judith’s disapproving glance, and began to nibble for the first time. A slice of peach, a chunk of cantaloupe, and a plump strawberry seemed to satisfy her. “Right now, they’re taking a breather, then they’ll gather for cocktails around six. You’ve got chafing dishes, so you can put the hot food out around six-thirty. Then we can head home.” Renie yawned and stretched.

  “Sounds good to me,” Judith said. “Is there any reason why we can’t have a look around now?”

  Renie considered. “We probably shouldn’t go upstairs where the guest rooms are located. But we could snoop around the main floor. Oh, when I carted all my presentation materials back to the car, the clouds had lifted, and you could see the mountains. It’s beautiful outside.”

  “Great,” Judith said, putting on the dark red three-quarter coat Joe had given her for Christmas. “Let’s have a look before it starts getting dark.”

  The cousins went out through the dining room, where Judith had cleared away the luncheon debris and reset the table for the buffet supper. In the lobby, they paused to examine some of the art works more closely. There were soapstone carvings, Native American masks, and a few pieces of jade, which were kept under glass. The only painting was a large, rather abstract mountain scene hanging above the big stone fireplace.

  Judith smiled wistfully when she saw the swirling signature in the lower left-hand corner. “It’s a Riley Tobias,” she said to Renie. “Doesn’t that bring back a few memories?”