a long fur-lined raincoat, fancy boots—her “roughing it” clothes, no doubt, Abby thought derisively.
Christina eyed Spook. “He won’t come leaping over the seat or anything, will he?”
“That’s Spook, and she’s well-mannered,” Abby said shortly; then she started the long drive to the lake.
On the way, Christina filled her in with more details about the movie contract than she could grasp, and she stopped listening after a while. But she was awed; Christina had been negotiating this one contract for five months. Abby couldn’t imagine how one agreement could take such a long time.
Already, in just a few days, the landscape had changed; the scarlets and golds were gone, many of the deciduous trees were bare; from now until spring the dark firs would reign on this side of the high pass, then pines, and finally junipers. The front that had brought rain to the valley had been harsher in the mountains; there was snow at the higher elevations.
At the lake, after parking the van and carrying their supplies to the ramp, Abby started to pull the rowboat from the shed, and Christina stopped moving.
“I’m not getting in that little boat,” she said. “It’s too small. Where is the cabin?”
Abby pointed. “We go by boat or we don’t go at all.” She worked the boat down to the water and tied it to a tree stump, then went back for the backpack and their groceries. She tossed the backpack into the boat, added the bags of supplies and then took Christina’s suitcase from her.
Christina was staring at the boat in horror. After a wild look all around, she moaned, and fearfully climbed in. Abby motioned to Spook, who leaped in and sat down, and then she released the rope and pushed off, rocking the boat more than she needed to. She stepped in at the last second, sat down and took up the oars.
Christina clutched both sides of the rowboat desperately all the way across the finger, and by the time Abby pulled up at the ledge, she looked as if she might become seasick, she was so gray. Abby held the boat steady while Christina gingerly stepped out. Then Spook jumped out and raced around the cabin.
“My God!” Christina said then. “I thought it was just a cabin on a shore somewhere.”
Exactly, Abby thought. She tied up, and they walked around the cabin to the front, where Spook was standing, wagging her tail furiously; Abby unlocked the door and pushed it open. Spook darted in, whining. “I’ll turn up the heat and then go back for our stuff,” Abby said. “This is it.” She knew Spook would be tearing around inside, upstairs, down, searching for Jud. And she knew she couldn’t bear to watch.
She tended to the thermostat, unlatched the dog door, and went back out; Christina didn’t offer to help, but stood huddled in her coat as her color gradually returned.
Then, everything unloaded, they both went up the stairs. “His study, the aerie,” Abby said.
“Good God! How many boxes are there?” Christina said, inside the doorway. She walked to the desk and put her hand on the stack of manuscript. “Is this the novel?”
“Yes.”
Christina gazed about the room frowning. “He must have kept every scrap of paper for his whole life. What’s in the file cabinets?”
“More papers, manuscripts, correspondence. I don’t know what all.”
“Well, we’ll have to have a division of labor, won’t we?” Christina crossed the room, pulled open a file drawer, and glanced inside some of the folders. “Warranties, things like that. And computer stuff.” She opened a carton and looked at the top sheets of paper. “More of the same, it looks like. And what’s this?” She pulled out a few pages paper-clipped together. “A story? Could be.” With a sigh she dropped the papers back into the carton.
“Why don’t you take the novel manuscript downstairs, and I’ll start going through things up here,” Abby said, trying to keep her hostility buried. She could admire Christina’s cool
Christina eyed Spook. “He won’t come leaping over the seat or anything, will he?”
“That’s Spook, and she’s well-mannered,” Abby said shortly; then she started the long drive to the lake.
On the way, Christina filled her in with more details about the movie contract than she could grasp, and she stopped listening after a while. But she was awed; Christina had been negotiating this one contract for five months. Abby couldn’t imagine how one agreement could take such a long time.
Already, in just a few days, the landscape had changed; the scarlets and golds were gone, many of the deciduous trees were bare; from now until spring the dark firs would reign on this side of the high pass, then pines, and finally junipers. The front that had brought rain to the valley had been harsher in the mountains; there was snow at the higher elevations.
At the lake, after parking the van and carrying their supplies to the ramp, Abby started to pull the rowboat from the shed, and Christina stopped moving.
“I’m not getting in that little boat,” she said. “It’s too small. Where is the cabin?”
Abby pointed. “We go by boat or we don’t go at all.” She worked the boat down to the water and tied it to a tree stump, then went back for the backpack and their groceries. She tossed the backpack into the boat, added the bags of supplies and then took Christina’s suitcase from her.
Christina was staring at the boat in horror. After a wild look all around, she moaned, and fearfully climbed in. Abby motioned to Spook, who leaped in and sat down, and then she released the rope and pushed off, rocking the boat more than she needed to. She stepped in at the last second, sat down and took up the oars.
Christina clutched both sides of the rowboat desperately all the way across the finger, and by the time Abby pulled up at the ledge, she looked as if she might become seasick, she was so gray. Abby held the boat steady while Christina gingerly stepped out. Then Spook jumped out and raced around the cabin.
“My God!” Christina said then. “I thought it was just a cabin on a shore somewhere.”
Exactly, Abby thought. She tied up, and they walked around the cabin to the front, where Spook was standing, wagging her tail furiously; Abby unlocked the door and pushed it open. Spook darted in, whining. “I’ll turn up the heat and then go back for our stuff,” Abby said. “This is it.” She knew Spook would be tearing around inside, upstairs, down, searching for Jud. And she knew she couldn’t bear to watch.
She tended to the thermostat, unlatched the dog door, and went back out; Christina didn’t offer to help, but stood huddled in her coat as her color gradually returned.
Then, everything unloaded, they both went up the stairs. “His study, the aerie,” Abby said.
“Good God! How many boxes are there?” Christina said, inside the doorway. She walked to the desk and put her hand on the stack of manuscript. “Is this the novel?”
“Yes.”
Christina gazed about the room frowning. “He must have kept every scrap of paper for his whole life. What’s in the file cabinets?”
“More papers, manuscripts, correspondence. I don’t know what all.”
“Well, we’ll have to have a division of labor, won’t we?” Christina crossed the room, pulled open a file drawer, and glanced inside some of the folders. “Warranties, things like that. And computer stuff.” She opened a carton and looked at the top sheets of paper. “More of the same, it looks like. And what’s this?” She pulled out a few pages paper-clipped together. “A story? Could be.” With a sigh she dropped the papers back into the carton.
“Why don’t you take the novel manuscript downstairs, and I’ll start going through things up here,” Abby said, trying to keep her hostility buried. She could admire Christina’s cool
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