Sleeping Beauty (57 page)

After so many years, it felt like home again, a place where she belonged even though she only came for short visits. It was still, in many ways, the town she remembered, and many of the people were the same, too: as eccentric a bunch as any she had met in California—stubborn, fiercely independent, warm and welcoming to those who loved the mountains and wanted to protect them, coldly contemptuous of those who came to use Tamarack for their own exhibitionism, hoping for some of its glitter to rub off on them. Many towns in one, Anne thought, and all, somehow, coexisting so that most of those who lived there found a niche and felt, as she did, at home.

“Peace on earth,” Leo said a little bitterly as he and Anne watched the town recede below them. “Who'd believe that people are fighting over that little bit of real estate, and some of us just lost?”

Anne shook her head. “I can't believe that. There must be something you can do.”

“We can't think of anything. They just rode over us, and they have the votes. The damndest thing is, a couple of weeks ago Josh came up with an idea that isn't too bad—we're not crazy about it, but it would be better than selling the company—but there's not enough money in it to satisfy Charles and Fred, anyway. God, can you imagine how much money they've gone through in Chicago? They're like a vacuum cleaner; they suck it up and it's never seen again.”

“What was Josh's idea?” Anne asked.

“To sell part of The Tamarack Company. Last time he was in Egypt he talked to private investors and government officials, and it turned out that the government didn't want to share his dig with anybody else in Egypt. I guess it could be the greatest thing since Tut's tomb, and they want the royalties and film rights and the rest of it. So the private investors were looking for something else, and Josh suggested Tamarack. I couldn't believe it when he told me; what would Egyptians want with an American ski resort? But what the hell, the Japanese do it, and the Dutch and the British own pieces of this country wherever you look, so why not the Egyptians? I was impressed that Josh thought of it; there he was, trying to line up money for this dig that's the most important thing in his life, but he had time to think of us.”

“What happened next?”

“We sent them a bunch of literature and financial statements. Not that we were about to say yes, but I didn't want to throw away any alternatives. I called Fred and asked him what he'd say if that kind of offer was ever made—I didn't tell him we had anybody interested—and he said forget it; it wouldn't give them what they wanted. Damn it, there ought to be compromise here, but how do you compromise with greed?”

“Is it really greed?” Anne asked.

“No, I suppose not. I suppose it's Charles being desperate to make up for his failures, and Fred's anger that he hasn't been able to run the place the way he wants, and everybody trying to do things right.”

Anne frowned. “Why doesn't anyone talk about selling Chatham Development?”

“My God, that would be like selling the Queen Mother. That company's been their whole life; they've never known anything else. And the truth is, it really wouldn't help. They've mortgaged almost everything they own, so they'd end up with enough to pay the interest on the loans that are due next month, and that's about all. They need a hell of a lot more, especially to pay off Charles' personal loan. It's a
terrible thing, the way they've run that company down, and there aren't any options that everybody likes. I wanted to talk about it at dinner tonight, but Gail says I shouldn't even bring it up; it'll ruin Christmas for everybody. As if ours isn't ruined already.” He brooded at the last corner of the town before it disappeared behind the mountain. In the distance, the airport runway was a dark slash in the center of white fields; far beyond it, a bright red barn glowed like a beacon in the sun; and farther yet, snow-covered hills and ranges of jagged peaks marched to the horizon.

“It's not just my job, you know,” Leo said slowly. “It's not even just the company. It's our home, a place we're helping to make, and make better. How many people can say that about what they do every day of their lives? It's damned hard, you know, to make a resort be a real town for its people, but we're working at it, and I want to keep doing it. We have a lot of influence around here”—he laughed—“as much as anyone can have in this town. We own enough property to have a say in what happens, and we get along with the city council, and there's a lot we can do for the schools and the hospital and library and art museum, and the teen center . . . well, what the hell, I keep talking, but it's all fantasy by now. Somebody like that bastard Beloit will buy it and turn it into Coney Island, and we'll be long gone, and we'll lose Ethan's dream, and ours, too. This has been a good home for us.”

“The whole thing sounds wrong to me,” Anne said. “I think it needs a lot more talk, and I think it ought to be tonight. It happened too fast, didn't it? You said it was all settled before you'd even finished your soup. How could any of them have really thought it through?”

“They didn't. Vince didn't give them time. I have to say, he was very good. Smooth, warm, playing on people's weaknesses, unbelievably persuasive—” He stopped. Anne was sitting stiffly, her hands gripped in her lap. “He talked them into it,” Leo finished lamely.

They were silent, gazing at the groomed ski runs below them, snaking between long, undulating groves of snow
covered pines and firs as the gondola moved higher, to the terminal at the top of the mountain. The door slid open, and Anne and Leo stepped out, lifting their skis from the rack on the outside of the car. “Let's go over to number ten,” Leo said as they stepped into their bindings. They were standing in the sunlight, with mountains looming all around them, gold and white peaks rising above slopes of silvery green trees and gray-blue shadows on the snow. Anne turned in place, gazing in all directions as if she were breathing in the pristine beauty. She felt at peace. “You go first,” said Leo.

She pushed off, skating to gain speed until the ground began to slope and she could let the skis run. Leo followed, admiring the fluid line of her body. She wore black stretch pants and an emerald-green jacket, and her black hair was held in place by a gold headband. She was a superb skier, Leo thought, skiing hard and fast, staying close to the fall line, moving with the same grace and concentration with which she hiked and worked around the house, and he was sure, practiced law. She chose the straightest route to get where she was going, and she took off in a way that made it clear she would not brook interference or let herself doubt the choice she had made.

Leo stopped at the side of the run and watched Anne reach the bottom and turn to see where he was. A smooth, controlled skier, he thought; one of the most beautiful he had seen on a mountain that attracted the best. He pushed off to join her.

Anne saw him moving, and waved before she skied off, staying at the side, along the trees, where the snow was soft and untracked. She flew down the slope, the forest beside her a blur of green pines, the snow spraying from beneath her skis in sparkling showers that hovered in the air before falling slowly back to earth.

This was when she felt the most free, when she was barely connected with the earth, when she could revel in the youth and strength of her body, her energy that exploded in speed and power, and nothing else in her thoughts. There was no past or future, there were no fears or pressures or regrets.
There was only the exhilaration of speed, the beauty of a sparkling world, the cold, clear air filling her lungs, and the rhythm of her body.

The smooth slope gave way to moguls, large bumps formed by skiers pushing snow to the side as they skidded their skis to slow down. Anne made short, rapid turns, following a straight line between them, until she reached the bottom, where the snow was smooth again, the slope leveling off. She stopped, breathing hard, smiling. It was the closest she ever came to feeling joy. She looked up the slope and her smile grew as she watched Leo following her down. He was very fast, his knees deeply bent, skiing powerfully, looking, Anne thought, like a compact tank hurtling through the moguls.

He came to a stop beside her. “Good run,” he grinned. “You're a lot prettier to watch than I am. Great to ski with.” He looked at her bright face. Her beauty took his breath away. It was like the perfect control of her skiing: nothing out of place or out of harmony with the rest of her. Perfect control, he thought, and as in the past, he felt a quick rush of pity. It was great for skiing, but what the hell did it do to her emotional life?

“What happened between you and Josh?” he asked as they skied slowly up to lift ten.

“We aren't seeing each other anymore.”

“That much I know. Gail asked him. I'm sorry; I thought you liked each other.”

“We did. We still do. It just seemed better to stop it. He called me when Gail asked him to dinner for tonight. He wanted to know if I'd mind his being there.”

“And you said no.”

“Of course. How could I tell him not to come?”

Leo listened to her calm voice; he studied her perfectly controlled face. He dropped the subject. “I won't be long,” he said, and went to talk to the lift attendant. “Everything's fine. Let's go up.”

They rode the chair lift to the top, where he checked with the attendant sitting in the lifthouse at the controls for starting and stopping the lift. Then they stood for a moment,
watching the crowds of Christmas skiers who were appearing all around them. Their ski suits were of every color and design, from sleek black to riotous swirls and lightning bolts of fluorescent dyes that transformed the green and white mountain into a turning, flowing kaleidoscope. Near them, a skier fell, leaving a trail of skis, ski poles, hat, dark glasses, and goggles. “Garage-sale fall,” someone said, and other skiers stopped to help. Leo smiled. “I still do that once in a while. Humbling experience.”

They skied down to another chair lift and then another, Leo talking briefly at each stop with the attendants and the ski patrol he met on the way. “Keith doesn't like it that I check the mountain every day,” he said when he and Anne skied to the bottom and were once again at the gondola where they had begun. “He says it's his job, and of course it is, but I don't see a way around it. I can't let him be assistant mountain manager on his own until I'm convinced he can really do it.”

“Why did you hire him?” Anne asked. Carrying their skis, they walked to Leo's car.

“Vince asked me to, and Keith really pushed for it; he said he wanted to straighten out his life. How do you turn down somebody who says that? I figured he'd grow into it. And in some ways he has. Like showing up today; who would've figured that? But there's something wrong about Keith; I don't know what it is, but it bothers me.”

“He's unformed,” Anne said. “It's as if he hasn't finished growing up, and maybe never will. He has that look of a little boy who's always on the verge of getting angry because he's sure he won't get what he wants, or get taken care of the way he thinks he deserves.”

Leo thought about it. “Pretty harsh, but you're probably right. I wonder how long he'll stay in this job.”

“As long as it gives him whatever it is he wants.” She and Leo locked their skis in the rack on top of the car and walked toward town. “Do you know what that is?”

“I only know what he said: that he wants to straighten out his life. It seems to me he's done that; I'd lay bets that he isn't on drugs and I've never seen him drink. He's got a girl,
very pretty, and she seems crazy about him. And he could make a good career here, assuming the new owners keep him. That ought to be enough.”

“I don't know,” Anne said thoughtfully. “He looks hungry to me.”

“For what? Money?”

She hesitated. “I think he likes the kind of power that comes from hurting people.”

Leo swung a sharp look at her. “Then he's dangerous.”

“He might be.”

They found themselves amid the crowds in the streets. “Merry Christmas, Leo,” someone said, and Leo stopped briefly to chat. Many tourists had stayed in town for the day, window-shopping or sitting on the benches on the mall, heads back and eyes closed in the warm sun. In the shade the air was cold, but in the sunlight people unzipped their jackets, took off their gloves, and smiled in the warmth. “Hi, Leo; happy holidays,” a tall, burly man said. Leo stopped, and introduced him to Anne. “So how's the water?” the man asked. “No more trouble?”

“Everything's under control,” Leo said.

“Take care it doesn't happen again,” said the man as they separated.

“Was that a warning?” Anne asked.

“Pretty close to it,” Leo replied. “He flies in and out of here every couple of weeks in his own plane, and he likes us all to stand at attention, the way his companies do. He doesn't bother me; he's mostly harmless.”

They reached the end of the mall, where carolers sang beside a spruce tree. Children came up to finger their old-fashioned costumes and try on the men's top hats. Later, the carolers would walk through town, stopping to serenade sick people in their homes, and in the hospital. A block away, a lone trumpeter played “Noel,” his dog curled up at his feet. Through restaurant windows, waiters and waitresses could be seen putting flowers on the tables for dinner; at George's Mountain T-Shirt Company, customers were having shirts custom printed as last-minute gifts; and
on the hill to their right crews were smoothing the snow for that afternoon's children's sled races.

“Leo, Anne, having a good Christmas?” Timothy asked. “Could be a lot more crowded, if you ask me.”

“You're not busy in the tavern?” Leo said.

“Oh, busy. But not
busy,
if you know what I mean. I think people are still scared to come here.”