Reasonable Adults by Robin Lefler

Author:Robin Lefler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2022-10-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

By dinnertime, the snow is calf-deep. Even someone who hates the cold as much as I do would have a hard time not feeling a little bit of magic walking through the curtain of huge flakes floating down to join their fallen comrades. There’s no wind to speak of. Just snow falling straight down.

The warm lights of the dining room shine from the stone walls of the lower level of the Big House. It’s dark by five o’clock these days, but the bright snow reflects whatever light there is and makes it possible to be outside without feeling completely blind.

Something about the first snow of the year and the imminent Party Thyme booking makes me feel lighter. I throw caution to the wind and let Eric out the front door of the Hut without his leash. I lock eyes with him, do a quick feint left, and then take off running right. He yips with joy and romps along beside me. We do a lap of the fire circle before collapsing into the snow. I make snowball after snowball and chuck them as far as I can, watching them plop down and disappear. He chases each one into the darkness and immediately comes back for another.

Out of nowhere, something thumps into my arm. I whip around and see Matt coming out of the trees, a half-formed snowball taking shape in his gloved hands.

“Oh, you think because I’m from the city I can’t win a snowball fight?” I shove myself to standing and sprint to the Gathering Fire, taking cover behind one of the tree-trunk benches. Quickly, I pack together a tiny arsenal. I shoot my head up for a quick check of my surroundings and am immediately under fire.

“I haven’t always been an artist, you know,” Matt calls out conversationally. “I was a pitcher in high school.” His voice is coming from somewhere to my right. I sneak another peek as another snowball whips out of the darkness and knocks my jaunty pom-pom toque off my head. “A really good one!”

“Yeah? Well, I am not particularly good at any sport, but I am,” I pause to chuck a volley in the direction of his voice, “very passionate about survival. And,” another throw that, from the deep laughter that follows, lands nowhere near my target, “I have a secret weapon. Eric! Get him!” Three seconds later Matt’s on his back in the snow, trying to fend off the enthusiastic licks of an overexcited, snow-encrusted canine. I mosey over, grab an armload of snow, and let it fall directly onto his head. “Winner!” I declare, arms raised in victory.

Mike is walking past with some fallen branches over his shoulder. He nods toward the Big House, where the door is just opening to reveal an angry-dad-vibe-exuding Kevin. “You might want to relocate.”

“Retreat!” I whisper, grabbing Eric’s collar. Kevin stares into the still-falling snow and starts stomping directly toward us. I can’t get back to my place without crossing the open space between us.

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