Snowfall at Willow Lake: Lakeshore Chronicles Book 4 by Susan Wiggs

generous opinion of the male sex,” Tariq said. “After tonight’s ceremony, I’m taking you out and getting you so drunk you’ll forget your own name.”
    â€œSounds delightful.”
    â€œIsn’t that what you Yanks do, go out and get—what’s the term?—shitfaced?”
    She sniffed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t even drink.”
    â€œBut I buy drinks. I’ll take you to Club Sillies after this.”
    Sophie knew she would go, and she’d be the envy of every woman there, at the hottest nightclub in The Hague, a place frequented by the European elite. Tariq never failed to turn heads; he was elegant, with a subtle layer of sadness in his regard. The sadness was real, but few people knew the reason for it. Oxford-educated, one of the top jurists in the free world, he dedicated his every waking moment to the law. Yet as a gay man, and a Saudi, he struggled every day; in his native country, same-sex relations carried a penalty of death.
    â€œAnyway,” she said, “thank you for the offer. I really should get home afterward. I have work—”
    â€œYes, Allah forbid that you should have anything resembling a life.”
    â€œI have a life.”
    â€œYou have work—at court, and at the office, and in the field—and then you have sleep. Oh, yes. You also have that entirely dreadful sport you do.”
    â€œIt’s not dreadful. Distance swimming is good for me.” She was always in training for some kind of extreme race or another. She never placed first. Ever. But she always finished. Every time.
    For Tariq, whose only athletic activity was a dash for the elevator, her sport seemed madly dangerous.
    â€œPaddling about in a wet suit in freezing waters is mad. You need to have some fun, Petal. You need a life beyond work. And don’t think I don’t know why you refuse to un-bend a little. Because if you were actually to have fun and enjoy something, that would interfere with your penance.”
    â€œYou don’t know the first thing about doing penance.”
    â€œGuilt is not the exclusive domain of Christians,” he pointed out. “You feel guilty about your kids, so you refuse to allow yourself to enjoy anything. Simple as that. And clearly it doesn’t do a bit of good. Whether you’re in court prosecuting terrorists or riding a bicycle along Hogeweg during tourist season doesn’t matter.”
    â€œTrue. I’m still separated from my kids.”
    â€œHere is what you’re giving your kids—a mother who cares enough about the world to make it a better place for them. Do you really think they’d rather have you driving carpool to soccer practice and the mall?”
    â€œSometimes, yes.” She knew it was unproductive, but couldn’t help wondering if things would have turned out differently for Daisy if she had been more present.
    â€œMy dear mum was there every day, and look at me. A quivering mess.”
    â€œA well-adjusted person.”
    â€œAn outcast. A heretic.” He spoke jokingly, but she sensed his underlying pain, different from her own yet somehow familiar.
    â€œStop,” she said in an undertone. She and Tariq were both career-focused. Trying to escape the person he really was, he had made this court his life. “It’s all I have,” he’d told her many times in the past. “Fortunately, it’s all I want.”
    Sophie couldn’t say the same, so she said nothing. She saw the premier and queen moving toward them, and cleared her throat to warn Tariq. The queen of the Netherlands looked like everyone’s favorite aunt, displaying an abundance of personal charm twinkling in her eyes as she went about her duties, treating each person as though, in that moment, they were the most important person in the world.
    â€œThank you very much for your service,” she murmured as the line of