She started to correct him, then stopped herself. Practically speaking, Daniel Brophy was indeed a married man, married to his church. There was no spouse more jealous, more demanding. She would have a better chance of claiming him if he’d been bound to merely another woman.
“I guess I’m not as levelheaded as you thought,” she said.
He gave a surprised laugh. “You must have a wild streak I never knew about. How did I miss it back at Stanford?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Basic personalities don’t really change much.”
“You’ve changed.”
“No. Beneath this Brooks Brothers blazer still beats the heart of a beach bum. Medicine’s just my job, Maura. It pays the bills. It’s not who I am.”
“And what do you imagine I am?”
“The same person you were at Stanford. Competent. Professional. Not one to make mistakes.”
“I wish that were true. I wish I didn’t make mistakes.”
“This man you’re seeing, is he a mistake?”
“I’m not ready to admit that.”
“Do you regret it?”
His question made her pause, not because she was unsure of the answer. She knew she was not happy. Yes, there were moments of bliss when she’d hear Daniel’s car in the driveway or his knock on her door. But there were also the nights when she sat alone at her kitchen table, drinking too many glasses of wine. Nursing too many resentments.
“I don’t know,” she finally said.
“I’ve never regretted anything.”
“Even your marriage?”
“Even my disaster of a marriage. I believe that every experience, every wrong decision, teaches us something. That’s why we shouldn’t be afraid to make mistakes. I jump into things with both feet, and sometimes it gets me into hot water. But in the end, everything has a way of working out.”
“So you just trust in the universe?”
“I do. And I sleep very well at night. No doubts, no closet full of anxieties. Life’s too short for that. We should just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
The waiter came to clear away the dishes. While she had finished only half her meal, Doug had cleaned his plate, devouring his lamb chops the way he seemed to devour life itself, with joyous abandon. He ordered cheesecake and coffee for dessert; Maura asked only for chamomile tea. When it all arrived, he slid the cheesecake halfway between them.
“Go on,” he said. “I know you want some.”
Laughing, she picked up her fork and took a generous bite. “You’re a bad influence.”
“If we were all well behaved, how boring would life be? Besides, cheesecake is only a minor sin.”
“I’ll have to repent when I get home.”
“When are you headed back?”
“Not till Sunday afternoon. I thought I’d stay an extra day and take in some of the scenery. Jackson Hole’s pretty spectacular.”
“Are you touring around on your own?”
“Unless some gorgeous man volunteers to show me around.”
He took a bite of cheesecake and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t know about coming up with a gorgeous man,” he said. “But I could offer you an alternative. My daughter, Grace, is here with me. She’s out tonight at the movies with two of my friends from San Diego. We were planning to drive to a cross-country ski lodge on Saturday and spend the night. We’d be back Sunday morning. There’s room for you in the Suburban. And I’m sure there’s room at the lodge, too, if you’d like to join us.”
She shook her head. “I’d be a fifth wheel.”
“Not at all. They’d love you. And I think you’d like them, too. Arlo’s one of my best friends. By day, he’s a boring accountant. But by night …” Doug’s voice dropped to a sinister growl. “He turns into a celebrity known as the Mysterious Mr. Chops.”
“Who?”
“Just one of the most popular food and wine bloggers on the Web. He’s eaten at every Michelin-starred restaurant in America, and he’s working his way through Europe. I just call him Jaws.”
Maura laughed. “He sounds like fun. And the other friend?”
“Elaine. The gal he’s been dating for years. She does something with interior design, I don’t know what. I think you two would hit it off. Plus, you’d get to meet Grace.”
She took another bite of cheesecake and took her time chewing. Considering.
“Hey, it’s not like I’m proposing marriage,” he teased. “It’s just an overnight road trip, properly chaperoned by my thirteen-year-old daughter.” He leaned in closer, his blue eyes focused intently. “Come on. My wild and crazy ideas almost always end up being fun.”
“Almost always?”
“There’s that unpredictability factor, that chance that something completely unexpected—something amazing—could happen. That’s what makes life an adventure. Sometimes you just have to jump in and trust in the universe.”
At that moment, staring into his eyes, she felt that Doug Comley saw her the way few people did. That he was looking past her defensive armor to see the woman inside. A woman who’d always been afraid of where her heart might take her.
She looked down at the dessert plate. The cheesecake was gone; she didn’t remember having finished it. “Let me give it some thought,” she said.
“Of course.” He laughed. “You wouldn’t be Maura Isles if you didn’t.”
THAT NIGHT, back in her hotel room, she called Daniel.
By his tone of voice, she knew that he was not alone. He was polite but impersonal, as though speaking to any parishioner. In the background she could hear voices discussing the price of heating fuel, the cost of repairing the roof, the drop-off in donations. It was a church budget meeting.
“How is it out there?” he asked. Pleasant and neutral.
“A lot colder than Boston. There’s already snow on the ground.”
“It hasn’t stopped raining here.”
“I’ll be landing Sunday night. Can you still pick me up at the airport?”
“I’ll be there.”
“And afterward? We can have a late supper at my house, if you’d like to stay the night.”
A pause. “I’m not sure I can. Let me think about it.”
It was almost the same answer she’d given Doug earlier that evening. And she remembered what he’d said. Sometimes you just have to jump in and trust in the universe.
“Can I call you back Saturday?” he said. “I’ll know my schedule then.”
“Okay. But if you can’t reach me, don’t worry. I may be out of cell phone range.”
“Talk to you then.”
There was no parting I love you, just a quiet goodbye and the conversation was over. The only intimacies they ever shared were behind closed doors. Every encounter was planned in advance, and afterward repeatedly analyzed. Too much thinking, Doug would have said. All that thinking hadn’t brought her happiness.
She picked up the hotel phone and dialed the operator. “Can you connect me to the room of Douglas Comley, please?” she said.
It took four rings for him to answer. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” she said. “Does the invitation still stand?”
THE ADVENTURE STARTED OFF WELL ENOUGH.
Friday night, the fellow travelers met for drinks. When Maura walked into the hotel cocktail lounge, she found Doug and his party already seated at a table, waiting for her. Arlo Zielinski looked like someone who had eaten his way through the Michelin guidebook—chubby and balding, a man with a hearty appetite and just as hearty a laugh.
“The more the merrier, I always say! And now we have an excuse to order two bottles of wine at dinner,” he said. “Stick with us, Maura, and I guarantee a good time, especially when Doug’s in charge.” He leaned in and whispered: “I can vouch for his moral character. I’ve done his taxes for years, and if anyone knows your most intimate secrets, it’s your accountant.”
“What’re you two whispering about?” asked Doug.
Arl
o looked up innocently. “Just saying that the jury was totally rigged against you. They should never have convicted.”
Maura burst out laughing. Yes, she liked this friend of Doug’s.
But she wasn’t as sure about Elaine Salinger. Though the woman had sat smiling during the conversation, it was a tight smile. Everything about Elaine somehow seemed tight, from her skin-hugging black ski pants to her eerily unlined face. She was about Maura’s age and height, and model-thin, with a waistline to envy and the self-control to maintain it. While Doug, Maura, and Arlo split a bottle of wine, Elaine sipped only mineral water garnished with a slice of lime, and she virtuously shunned the bowl of nuts that Arlo was so enthusiastically digging in to. Maura could not see what these two had in common; she certainly could not imagine them dating.
Doug’s daughter, Grace, was yet another puzzle. He had described his ex-wife as a beauty, and her fortunate genes had clearly been passed on to the daughter. At thirteen, Grace was already stunning, a leggy blonde with arching brows and crystalline blue eyes. But it was a remote beauty, cool and uninviting. The girl had contributed scarcely a word to the conversation. Instead she’d sat with her iPod earpieces stubbornly in place. Now she gave a dramatic sigh and uncurled her lanky body from the chair.
“Dad, can I go back to my room now?”
“Come on, sweetie, hang around,” urged Doug. “We can’t be all that boring.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re only thirteen,” Arlo teased. “At your age, you should be raring to rock-and-roll with us.”
“It’s not like you all need me here.”
Doug frowned at her iPod, noticing it for the first time. “Turn that off, okay? Try joining the conversation.”
The girl shot him a look of pure teenage disdain and slouched back in her chair.
“… so I scoped out all the possible restaurants in the area, and there’s nothing worth stopping for,” Arlo said. He popped another handful of nuts into his mouth and wiped the salt from his pudgy hands. He took off his glasses and wiped them as well. “I think we should just go straight to the lodge and eat lunch there. At least they have steak on the menu. How hard is it to cook a decent steak?”
“We just had dinner, Arlo,” said Elaine. “I can’t believe you’re already thinking about tomorrow’s lunch.”
“You know me, I’m a planner. Like to get my ducks all in a row.”
“Especially if they’re glazed with orange sauce.”
“Dad,” whined Grace. “I’m really tired. I’m going to bed, okay?”
“Oh, all right,” Doug said. “But I want you up by seven. I’d like to be loaded up and ready to leave by eight.”
“I think we should be off to bed, too,” said Arlo. He stood, brushing crumbs off his shirt. “Come on, Elaine.”
“It’s only nine thirty.”
“Elaine,” Arlo repeated, and tipped his head meaningfully at Maura and Doug.
“Oh.” Elaine cast a speculative glance at Maura, then rose to her feet, lithe as a cheetah. “It’s been nice getting to know you, Maura,” she said. “See you in the morning.”
Doug waited for the trio to leave, then said to Maura: “I’m sorry that Grace was such a pill.”
“She’s a beautiful girl, Doug.”
“She’s also got a good head on her shoulders. An IQ of a hundred thirty. Not that you could see it tonight. She’s not usually this quiet.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m coming along. She may not be happy about it.”
“Don’t even think that, Maura. If she has a problem, she’ll just have to deal with it.”
“If my coming along feels awkward in any way—”
“Does it? To you?” His gaze was so probing, she felt compelled to tell the truth.
“A little,” she admitted.
“She’s thirteen. Everything about thirteen-year-olds is awkward. I refuse to let that dictate my life.” He lifted his glass. “So here’s to our adventure!”
She returned the toast, and they sipped, grinning at each other. In the flattering gloom of the cocktail lounge, he looked like that college student she remembered, the reckless young man who’d scaled rooftops and donned ninja outfits. She felt young again, too. Daring and fearless and ready for that adventure.
“I guarantee,” he said. “We are going to have a great time.”
DURING THE NIGHT, it had started to snow, and by the time they loaded their luggage into the back of the Suburban, three inches of white fluff coated the cars in the parking lot, a pristine cloak that made the San Diego contingent ooh and ahh at the beauty of it. Doug and Arlo insisted on taking photos of the three ladies posed in front of the hotel entrance, everyone smiling and rosy-cheeked in their ski clothes. Snow was nothing new for Maura, but she saw it now the way these Californians did, with a sense of wonder at how clean and white it was, how softly it settled on her eyelashes, how silently it swirled from the sky. During Boston’s long winters, snow meant tiresome shoveling and wet boots and slushy streets. It was merely a fact of life that had to be dealt with until spring. But this snow seemed different; it was vacation snow, and she smiled at the sky, feeling as giddy as her companions, enchanted by a world that suddenly looked new and bright.
“Folks, we are going to have an amazing time!” Doug declared as he fastened the rented cross-country skis onto the roof of the Suburban. “Fresh powder. Charming company. Dinner by a roaring fire.” He gave the roof straps one last tug. “Okay, team. Let’s go.”
Grace climbed into the front passenger seat.
“Hey sweetheart,” said Doug. “How about letting Maura sit next to me?”
“But this is always my seat.”
“She’s our guest. Give her the chance to ride shotgun.”
“Doug, let her stay there,” said Maura. “I’m perfectly fine sitting in back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Maura climbed into a seat at the back of the Suburban. “I’m good right here.”
“Okay. But maybe you two can switch later.” Doug shot his daughter a disapproving glance, but Grace had already inserted her iPod ear buds and was staring out the window, ignoring him.
In fact, Maura didn’t at all mind sitting alone in the third row, right behind Arlo and Elaine, where she had a view of Arlo’s bald spot and Elaine’s stylishly clipped dark hair. She was the last-minute add-on to the quartet, unfamiliar with their stories and their inside jokes, and she was content to merely be an observer as they headed out of Teton Village and drove south, into the ever-thickening snowfall. The windshield wipers swung back and forth, a metronome sweeping away showers of snowflakes. Maura leaned back and watched the scenery go by. She looked forward to lunch by the lodge fire, and then to an afternoon of skiing. Cross-country, not downhill, so no need to feel the least bit anxious, no fears of broken legs or fractured skulls or spectacularly embarrassing falls. Just a quiet glide through silent woods, the swoosh of her skis sliding across the powder, the pleasant burn of cold air in her lungs. During the pathology conference, she’d seen far too many images of damaged bodies. She was glad to be on a journey that had nothing to do with death.
“Snow’s coming down pretty fast,” said Arlo.
“We’ve got good tires on this baby,” said Doug. “Hertz clerk said they can handle the weather.”
“Speaking of the weather, did you check the forecast?”
“Yeah, snow. What a surprise.”
“Just tell me we’re gonna make it to the lodge in time for lunch.”
“Lola says we’ll arrive at eleven thirty-two. And Lola’s never wrong.”
Maura called out: “Who’s Lola?”
Doug pointed to the portable GPS, which he’d mounted on the dashboard. “That’s Lola.”
“Why are GPSs always referred to as females?” asked Elaine.
Arlo laughed. “Because women are always telling us men where to go. Since Lola says we’ll be there before noon, we can have an early lunch.”
Elaine sighed. “Do you ever stop thinking about eating?”
“The word is dining. In one lifetime, you can eat only so many meals, so you might as well—”
“—make each and every one worth it,” Elaine finished for him. “Yes, Arlo, we know your philosophy of life.”
Arlo turned in his seat to look at Maura. “My mom was a great cook. She taught me never to waste my appetite on mediocre food.”
“That must be why you’re so thin,” said Elaine.
“Ouch,” Arlo said. “You’re in a weird mood today. I thought you were looking forward to this trip.”
“I’m just tired. You snored half the night. I may have to insist on my own room.”
“Aw, come on. I’ll buy you some earplugs.” Arlo slung an arm around Elaine and pulled her close against him. “Honeybun. Baby. Don’t make me sleep alone.”
Elaine extricated herself. “You’re giving me a crick in the neck.”
“Hey, people, will you look at this gorgeous snow!” said Doug. “It’s a winter wonderland!”
An hour out of Jackson, they saw a sign: LAST CHANCE FOR FUEL. Doug pulled in to Grubb’s Gas Station and General Store, and they all piled out of the vehicle to use the restrooms and cruise the narrow aisles, scanning the snacks and dusty magazines and windshield ice scrapers.
Arlo stood in front of a display of plastic-wrapped beef sticks and laughed. “Who eats these things, anyway? They’re like ninety percent sodium nitrite, and the rest is red dye number two.”
“They have Cadbury chocolates,” said Elaine. “Shall we get some?”
“Probably ten years old. Oh, yuck, they’ve got licorice whips. I got sick on those when I was a kid. It’s like we’re back in the 1950s.”
As Arlo and Elaine stood sniggering over the snack selection, Maura picked up a newspaper and headed to the cash register to pay for it.
“You know that’s a week old, don’t you?” said Grace.
Maura turned, surprised that the girl had spoken to her. For once, Grace wasn’t wearing her ear buds, but her iPod was still playing, the music issuing out a tinny whine.
“It’s last week’s paper,” Grace pointed out. “Everything in this store is expired. The potato chips are, like, a year old. I bet even the petrol is bad.”
Tess Gerritsen's Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Bundle Page 218
