snow stops. Plenty of wood.”
When he crossed before her again, his hands were covered in long, thick mitts and he was holding an oven rack in one hand and a small, cast iron pot by the handle in the other. He knelt in front of the fire and sectioned off some whitish-orange coals, laid the rack over the coals and gently placed the pot on the grate. Apparently satisfied, he stepped back, taking off the gloves and laying them beside the fireplace on top of the log pile.
To her relief, he headed back to the couch and sat opposite her, lifting his leg again and pressing it against hers. She almost shuddered with relief, reveling in the ease of it, the familiarity.
“To answer your question, no. Roger’s one of three. His twin, Derek, is in college out in Colorado. His sister, Tami, is a nurse over in Ithaca. Roger always loved the mountains. Decided to come work at the resort instead of going to college.”
“He has a nice personality for the hospitality business,” she noted.
He grinned at her. “He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”
“Good parenting, I guess.”
“That was all Lena. She was warm as a summer day.”
“You must miss her,” said Grace, trying to suppress a ridiculous surge of jealousy.
“I did. Some days, I still do. But I can’t live like that.”
“The first year was the worst,” she said softly, remembering her own first year without Harold.
The sudden realization that she had no one with whom to share news about their children and grandchildren, no one who remembered the little minutiae of their life together. Despite their lack of passion, they’d had a rich life together and she’d turned to Harold with all of her news, her thoughts, her plans. And suddenly he wasn’t there to hear her, to nod his head, or chuck her under the chin.
And there were other ways the loss hurt in little unexpected sneak-attacks: Having no steady date for events, no one to take her coat to the coat room and hold the claim check. No one to warm her cold feet in bed and take care of their annual taxes. No one to reach the platter in the top cabinet or roll up the hose when the gardeners forgot to do it.
She had loved Harold, but even more, she’d been accustomed to him. She hadn’t really realized all of the quiet ways he’d infiltrated her life until he wasn’t around anymore. Losing him was like losing a limb in some ways. And it was challenging to learn how to live without it.
“I thought the second year was worse,” said Tray. “Everyone’s so concerned about you the first year, and you’re in shock. The second year you start to realize all the ways she completed you, and you’re left with all of this…incompleteness. Loose ends flapping in the breeze. It’s painful to tie them all down. Every time you think you’ve gotten the last one, another one appears—it’s Christmastime and you realize she did all the shopping and wrapping. Or it’s time for your annual dental appointment and she’s not there to harass you into going.” He smiled sadly, his hand dropping to Grace’s leg and rubbing distractedly. “By the third year, you can breathe again. You can, I don’t know, stand it. Bear it.”
Grace nodded in sympathy and perfect understanding.
“And then the vultures descend,” she added dryly.
He grinned at her. “All those good-looking lonely widows who want to be kissed by a local while they’re on vacation.”
“I’m not on vacation,” she confessed, her cheeks coloring. “My kids sent me to the “Silver Wings” weekend at the lodge.”
“How’s that going for you, Red?”
She flushed even deeper from the nickname.
“Unexpectedly well,” she teased.
He laughed softly, nodding at her. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Kids?”
“Yes. Two. Well, four. I helped to raised Harold’s boys, Henry and Edward. My Addy’s thirty-one and her brother, Lloyd, is twenty-nine.”
“So you were twelve when you started having children,” he
When he crossed before her again, his hands were covered in long, thick mitts and he was holding an oven rack in one hand and a small, cast iron pot by the handle in the other. He knelt in front of the fire and sectioned off some whitish-orange coals, laid the rack over the coals and gently placed the pot on the grate. Apparently satisfied, he stepped back, taking off the gloves and laying them beside the fireplace on top of the log pile.
To her relief, he headed back to the couch and sat opposite her, lifting his leg again and pressing it against hers. She almost shuddered with relief, reveling in the ease of it, the familiarity.
“To answer your question, no. Roger’s one of three. His twin, Derek, is in college out in Colorado. His sister, Tami, is a nurse over in Ithaca. Roger always loved the mountains. Decided to come work at the resort instead of going to college.”
“He has a nice personality for the hospitality business,” she noted.
He grinned at her. “He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”
“Good parenting, I guess.”
“That was all Lena. She was warm as a summer day.”
“You must miss her,” said Grace, trying to suppress a ridiculous surge of jealousy.
“I did. Some days, I still do. But I can’t live like that.”
“The first year was the worst,” she said softly, remembering her own first year without Harold.
The sudden realization that she had no one with whom to share news about their children and grandchildren, no one who remembered the little minutiae of their life together. Despite their lack of passion, they’d had a rich life together and she’d turned to Harold with all of her news, her thoughts, her plans. And suddenly he wasn’t there to hear her, to nod his head, or chuck her under the chin.
And there were other ways the loss hurt in little unexpected sneak-attacks: Having no steady date for events, no one to take her coat to the coat room and hold the claim check. No one to warm her cold feet in bed and take care of their annual taxes. No one to reach the platter in the top cabinet or roll up the hose when the gardeners forgot to do it.
She had loved Harold, but even more, she’d been accustomed to him. She hadn’t really realized all of the quiet ways he’d infiltrated her life until he wasn’t around anymore. Losing him was like losing a limb in some ways. And it was challenging to learn how to live without it.
“I thought the second year was worse,” said Tray. “Everyone’s so concerned about you the first year, and you’re in shock. The second year you start to realize all the ways she completed you, and you’re left with all of this…incompleteness. Loose ends flapping in the breeze. It’s painful to tie them all down. Every time you think you’ve gotten the last one, another one appears—it’s Christmastime and you realize she did all the shopping and wrapping. Or it’s time for your annual dental appointment and she’s not there to harass you into going.” He smiled sadly, his hand dropping to Grace’s leg and rubbing distractedly. “By the third year, you can breathe again. You can, I don’t know, stand it. Bear it.”
Grace nodded in sympathy and perfect understanding.
“And then the vultures descend,” she added dryly.
He grinned at her. “All those good-looking lonely widows who want to be kissed by a local while they’re on vacation.”
“I’m not on vacation,” she confessed, her cheeks coloring. “My kids sent me to the “Silver Wings” weekend at the lodge.”
“How’s that going for you, Red?”
She flushed even deeper from the nickname.
“Unexpectedly well,” she teased.
He laughed softly, nodding at her. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Kids?”
“Yes. Two. Well, four. I helped to raised Harold’s boys, Henry and Edward. My Addy’s thirty-one and her brother, Lloyd, is twenty-nine.”
“So you were twelve when you started having children,” he
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