“Jesus,” I say faintly. “Pretty sure I was just slinging french fries and kissing boys when I was sixteen.”
Trapper smiles, but it dies quickly. “He was always too brilliant for this place. It’s why I keep telling him he has to go back.”
“Youwanthim to go back?” I ask, bypassing polite interest and gunning straight for an insider scoop.
“Of course I do,” Trapper says quietly, looking down at his hands. “I’d give anything for things to go back to the way they were. I tell him every damn day he needs to return to Caltech—that Jo and I’d be fine on our own—but he doesn’t even respond.”
“Did you just say Caltech?” I ask, making sure I haven’t misheard him.
“That’s the one. Does it mean something to you?”
I sit back in my chair and rub a hand across my forehead, more unnerved by this conversation with every passing second. “No, no. It’s just… I live in Silver Lake. It’s a fifteen-minute drive from Caltech.”
Trapper’s mustache broadens with his smile. “Another reason I’m so darn happy you’re staying with us, Margot Bradley from Silver Lake. I’ve got a hunch that you remind Forrest something awful of home.”
“I doubt I’m going to be the one to convince him, Trapper,” I warn him. “You might have noticed that we’re not exactly swapping friendship bracelets.”
Trapper chuckles. “What I’ve noticed is that my son, who managed to graduate high school two years ahead of schedule, is late for our morning walk for the third time this week. Any idea what might be making him so uncharacteristically scatterbrained these days, Margot?”
At his thinly veiled question, a hot flush creeps up my neck, and like a coward, I raise my coffee mug to hide behind. “Beats me,” I mumble before taking a long sip.
Trapper only chuckles again and begins maneuvering his chair away from the desk. “Good luck writing today, dear. Come on,Scout. Time for our walk. Let’s go find Forrest and get my skis on,” he says referring to the ingenious detachable wheelchair skis that help him get around in the snow. He whistles, and Scout immediately gets up, trotting after him.
“Say hi to Bullwinkle for me,” I say, waving goodbye.
“Will do. And if I don’t see you before you all leave tomorrow, happy camping!”
I gulp down the burning-hot coffee as all thoughts of Forrest, Caltech, the grant, and his decision vanish.
“Camping?”
10MARGOT
As it turns out, Trapper wasn’t joking. Apparently, camping in subzero temperatures is the plan. When I voiced the opinion at dinner last night that I’m surrounded by lunatics, all I got were self-effacing chuckles of agreement. It wasn’t comforting. Afterward, Forrest gave me a mile-long packing list, and I spent the rest of my night aggressively stuffing my hiking pack with as much gear from the list as possible. “As possible” being the operative words.
At the time, it seemed like a petty act of defiance not to bring every item on his anal-retentive list. Like “crampons,” for example, which sound like the bastard child of cramps and tampons. Now, however, as Forrest brings the SUV to a rumbling halt in the middle of actual fucking nowhere, I’m starting to wonder if I should have made more of an effort to pack everything.
“Hey, how about this!” I say as I take in the frozen expanse of tundra ahead of us. “You take everyone outthere,and I’ll just camp inhere. When you all get back, I’ll have her nice and warmed up for you.” I nervously pat the dashboard.
Forrest removes the keys from the ignition and doesn’t laugh along with the rest of the group in the back seats. In fact, he’s beendistracted all morning, which I suppose isn’t too surprising, considering the grant offer yesterday. For the millionth time since reading his email, I wonder what his decision will be. Based on his eyebrow furrow alone, I don’t think he’s made it yet. But what if hedoesdecide to go back to Caltech? Will I ever look up from my laptop and see him standing in my favorite coffee shop? Would we ever intentionally meet up?
“No way, Margot,” Ollie says from the row directly behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got this. We’ll all be here to help you.”
I only barely resist pointing out that the last time Ollie promised to stay with me, I was instantly dumped for a boulder. But general sounds of assent ripple around the group as seats are unbuckled and everyone climbs out of the vehicle. Forrest turns toward me. To my surprise, he looks almost as anxious as I feel, which does absolute wonders for my nerves. “It’s just one overnight,” he says, and it sounds like he’s reassuring himself. “Let’s go.”
“You can’t make me,” I say in a panic, covering my seat belt’s clip.
He pulls on a thick beanie and, for the first time, looks almost reluctant to lay down his ace. “No camping, no letter.”
I swallow. Trapper said Forrest wouldn’t let anything serious happen to me, and all I can do is hope he’s right.
To no one’s surprise, the hike to the campsite is grueling. So grueling, in fact, that I make a vow to never use the word “grueling” in one of my books again unless I’m describing this and only this. Even Ollie has gone silent beside me, his small exhalations clouding around his face in tiny puffs. My exhalations, meanwhile, could fill the Goodyear blimp. When Forrest finally holds up a mitten to signal the group to stop, it takes everything I’ve got not to crumple in a heap.
Miserable as I may be, I can’t deny the beauty of the location. We’re set back on a cliff that overlooks an ocean of pristine snow, dwarfed only by the immensity of the sparkling blue sky. Everywhere I turn, the air glitters with what Ollie calls “diamond dust.”
“Great job, everyone,” Forrest says, barely nodding at me and setting loose a thousand butterflies in my stomach. I wish I could install a bug zapper. “We don’t have long until sunset, so we’ll need to work fast. Pick your tent site and start stomping it out. It’s going to be blustery tonight, so we’ll need to build wind walls.”
At this, Alice and Yoon look at each other like a couple of kids who just scored full-size candy bars on Halloween. Immediately, the group disperses to pick out their camping spots like one area of snow is better than another, but I have no idea why I can’t set up right where I’m standing. It would mean less walking.
