O' Artful Death - By Sarah Stewart Taylor Page 0,60
said, “Yes, good. It will give us time to talk about Toby,” and he flashed her a grateful smile.
“Can I ask you something?” Rosemary said, as they passed a development of condominiums hugging the sides of the mountain. Sweeney slowed down behind an old station wagon, crawling improbably up the hill.
“Sure.”
“What do you think about Toby and me?” Sweeney turned her head and saw that she was blushing, and Sweeney felt herself blush back.
But she could say honestly, “I think it’s great. I’m really happy for you guys.”
“He’s lovely. I just keep wondering if it’s just that we’re on holiday, you know. And if I should be careful not to get too involved.”
“Well, I can tell you that Toby takes things seriously. He always has. I don’t think he would be involved at all if he wasn’t serious about it. I don’t know if that helps.”
“Thank you,” Rosemary said, smiling. “I’m a bit out of practice. I haven’t dated in ages and I’ve kind of forgotten what you’re supposed to do and not do. I asked him if he wanted to have lunch with Granny and me and then I panicked that he might think I was trying to rope him.” She laughed. “See how muddled up about it all I am?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Sweeney said, laughing, too. “Toby’s usually the one who’s inviting people to meet his mom after the first date.”
They drove in silence for a while before Rosemary said, “And what about you? Is it my imagination or is there something going on between you and Ian?”
“Ian?”
“I thought I detected something. On his side anyway.”
“I don’t think so. Actually, he’s been driving me a little crazy. Does he seem odd to you?”
“Other than the fact that he’s English?”
Sweeney laughed. “You don’t think there’s something kind of sinister about him?”
“Sinister? I think he has a crush on you.”
Sweeney blushed. “It feels more like he wants to kill me.”
“What?” Rosemary looked shocked.
“No, I’m kidding. I don’t know . . . it’s just that you know when someone’s always watching you and, I don’t know, keeping track of you. That’s how it feels. He’s keeping track of me.”
“I still think he has a crush on you.”
Sweeney didn’t say anything. She hadn’t considered that possibility.
THEY SKIED ALL MORNING, Toby and the kids off on the expert slopes and Sweeney and Rosemary trying to stay upright on the easier runs. Sweeney hadn’t skied for five or six years, but she remembered the basics and after a couple of runs felt that she was starting to improve. By the time they met Toby, Gwinny, Trip and Gally for lunch in the lodge, she felt pleasantly exhausted.
They all skied together in the afternoon and after a couple of runs, she found herself riding the lift up the mountain with Gally. He was a good skier—the best of the three kids, really, though Trip was more daring—and she told him so as they cleared the lodge and moved slowly up the mountain, the wind blowing tiny crystals of snow around his head, leaving it in his hair like glitter.
“Thanks,” he said, and then lapsed into silence.
She had no idea what his eyes were doing behind his sunglasses, and she sensed that he didn’t want to talk. But she went on anyway.
“Do you like being home for Christmas, or do you miss school?”
“It’s all right, I guess. I don’t really have a choice.”
That was true. “This is a pretty cool place to spend Christmas. It must have been a fun place to grow up.”
He said, “It was when I was little. We used to go swimming and hiking all the time and stuff. My dad used to come with us all the time. My mom even used to ski. She was really good.”
“She doesn’t do that stuff anymore?”
“No, because then she’d have to spend time with my dad.”
“Oh.”
She said impulsively, “ ” I remember how weird it was to be seventeen. It does feel like things kind of fall apart, doesn’t it? Everything gets so much more complicated.”
“No,” he said cryptically. “I think things are the same. I think you just begin to see them the way they really are, to see things you couldn’t see before. People can’t fool you anymore.”
They had reached the top of the mountain and in a quick, graceful motion he lifted the bar and dropped down on to the snow, leaving Sweeney fumbling for her poles. She jumped off, too, but promptly fell onto the snow, cursing the