Sympathetic Magic(41)

And eventually they had eaten and drunk their fill, and Margot insisted on helping him clear the table. Since Jeff and Claire had tidied up all evidence of the actual meal preparations, it was short work to put the leftovers in storage containers and the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Then Lucas straightened up, wondering what he could do to extend the evening. Margot really didn’t seem like the type to watch television — he hadn’t even seen a TV at her place — and she hadn’t appeared terribly inclined toward conversation, at least not the sort of conversation he wanted, when she would unbend enough to reveal a little more about herself.

He saw Margot’s gaze shift toward the kitchen door, which was basically a window in a doorframe, one that opened on the deck, and her eyes lit up. “I think — I think it’s snowing!”

Thank God. Let it snow, he thought. Let it snow like that one storm five years ago when it came up to the windows. Then we’ll be trapped in here together, and she’ll have no choice but to finally open up.

“Let’s take a look,” he said, hoping he sounded more or less unconcerned. He dried his hands on a dish towel and went to the door, then opened it.

A blast of freezing air entered the warm kitchen, but Margot didn’t seem to mind. The lights mounted on the rear of the house had turned on automatically at dusk, and so it was easy to see the pale flakes floating down, dancing this way and that. They were falling fast, too, and thickly, so much so that he could see the snow already beginning to pile up on the deck railings and the patio furniture, shrouded for the season, and on the boards of the deck itself.

“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly.

“I thought it snowed in Jerome sometimes.”

“It does, but something about it here feels quieter, deeper. Maybe it’s all the pine trees around the house.”

He could see that. Yes, there were trees in Jerome, but nothing like the stately ponderosa pines that surrounded his home. A minute passed as they stood in silence, watching the snow fall, and then he said, “It’s too cold to stand here like this. The last thing I want is you getting sick.”

“I never get sick,” she said absently, but she did step away from the door so he could close it, shutting out the falling snow and the icy air that had begun to penetrate even the wool sweater he wore.

“You’ll still be able to see it if we go into the living room,” he went on. “All those windows look out over the deck, too.”

She nodded, and he led her out of the kitchen, on to the big chamber where the fireplace already had logs piled in it, waiting for just this moment. Well, he hadn’t thought it would really snow, but you didn’t need snow to want a fire on a cold evening in November. Since he didn’t have Margot’s facility for sparking off a fire whenever she felt like it, he had to settle for using a long-necked butane lighter to get the logs going. In a few minutes, they were crackling away cheerily.

As he tended the fire, she moved to the windows so she might stand there and watch the snow coming down, thicker and thicker, so you could begin to see the waves and ripples in it. That seemed to him a sign that the snow wasn’t planning on going away anytime soon, and he sent a mental thanks heavenward for the storm and its unexpected strength. He recalled something else, too, and went to a small cabinet in a corner of the room, extracting a pair of heavy blown-glass shot glasses before pouring a good measure of cognac into each one.

“For the cold,” he said, handing one to Margot.

For the barest second, she hesitated, and then she took it from him. “I did get a little chilled,” she admitted.

“Then skoal,” he said, and they clinked their glasses and took a sip. The cognac pulsed down his throat, warm and welcome, although he noticed that Margot winced a bit as she swallowed. Probably not used to the strong stuff.

“What do you do when it gets like this?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Wait it out. I said I didn’t cook, but it’s not as if I don’t keep stuff on hand just in case. Watch TV. Surf the Internet, as long as the cable doesn’t crap out or the electricity go out.”

She looked vaguely alarmed. “Does that happen often?”

“Hardly ever. We’re used to getting pounded in this city, so the infrastructure is built to take it. Besides, I have a generator out in the shed in case of a real emergency.”

That answer seemed to satisfy her, as she inclined her head slightly and allowed herself another sip of cognac. This time she didn’t shudder, which Lucas took as a good sign.

For the longest moment, she stood there, saying nothing, only watching the snow fall. Already the patio furniture and the barbecue in their winter covers had taken on vaguely threatening shapes, the accumulating snowflakes obscuring their true nature, making them look like monstrous huddled forms.