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Ollie waved at the heads. “Some people like this kind of thing. And we’re not here to hang out in the lobby, we’re here to ski.”
Brian brightened. “Yes, we are,” he said. His green ski boots were draped over his backpack; he reached behind and patted them again. Brian loved all gear, for all sports. Especially his own gear. He and Ollie would go on endlessly about tuning skis and sharpening ice skates. Sometimes Coco wished that she liked the things her friends liked. Pirate books and winter stuff. She’d have more to say when they were talking.
Two people, a man and a woman, had been standing by the front desk, waiting for them. Now they hurried forward, clattering across the lodge. They were smiling, freckled, happy. Coco was really glad to see them. They made the lobby seem a lot more normal.
“Oh, you made it, I’m so glad!” said the woman. She was thin as a greyhound, sandy-haired, with cheery welcome written all over her face like she’d painted it there. “You must be Roger Adler,” she said to Ollie’s dad. “I’m Sue Wilson. You’re the first guests to arrive—a lot of them probably didn’t set out at all! What a storm! Sorry about the dark.” She waved a hand at the lobby. “We thought the fire would be enough. Electricity’s out, and we’re trying to save on propane in case we’re snowed in for a couple of days. Plenty of firewood, though!” She turned to the kids. “You can call me Sue.” She smiled at Coco. “You tired, hon?”
Coco was used to adults calling her hon, sweetie, and darling. Adults who didn’t know her mostly seemed to think she was about eight years old. It was the pinkish hair. She really wished she’d get that growth spurt.
“Yes,” she said politely, gritting her teeth. “I am. What happened to the electricity?”
“The storm,” said the man, coming forward. “Wind blew trees over the power lines somewhere or other.” He had a beard as big as Mr. Adler’s and wore a Christmas sweater. A little belly hung over his belt. “I’m Sam Wilson,” he said. “Me ’n’ Sue own the place. Pleased to meet you. I guess you saw my little critters.” He waved a hand at the wall. “Bagged ’em all myself! Lemme take those.” He swept up all three of their duffels before they could respond. “Now,” he said. “Enough chitchat. You must be tired. Stairs are this way. Sorry the elevator’s not working. Power’s out and all. Come on. Welcome to Hemlock Lodge.”
Coco followed him gratefully, glad to get to bed and away from the animal heads.
“Big storm out there, Sue,” Coco heard Mr. Adler saying. “Should make for some good skiing tomorrow, but it was a tough drive.” He raised his voice. “Good night, kids! Be good.”
The adults kept on talking, but Coco couldn’t hear what they were saying. She padded up the stairs with the others.
They stopped on the second floor. The stairs opened onto a long dim hall. The only light was from a few wide-spaced wall lamps. They cast pools of feeble yellow light. Must be part of saving on propane, Coco decided, keeping it so dark. She tripped
over the last step and lurched into Ollie, who was weighed down by her own backpack and nearly went over.
“Coco!” whispered Ollie. She didn’t usually get mad when Coco was clumsy, but they were all really tired.
“Sorry,” Coco whispered back. “It’s hard to see.”
They began the long trudge down the hall. Coco watched her feet carefully, trying not to trip again. “I’ve got you girls in the bunk room,” Sam called over his shoulder. “You”—Brian was it—“are right across the hall. Far end of the hallway. Follow me.”
The hall seemed to go on forever. It was chilly. Coco hoped their room was warmer.
Sam stopped at a door that said bunk room in big brass letters.
Behind her, Coco heard more footsteps coming up the stairs, shuffling along behind them. Must be her mom and Mr. Adler, going to their rooms. Coco looked back. “Good night, Mo—” she started to say.
But her mom wasn’t there. The hall was empty.
No—what was that? Near them was a pool of greenish light, thrown from one of the dim emergency bulbs. Cast across the light was a person’s shadow. A big broad-shouldered shadow.
One shadow-hand was stretched out toward them.
Like a plea.
Like a warning.
A chill ran down her spine. “Mom?” Coco called just as their door swung open; Sam flicked on a battery-powered lamp. Light flooded the hall, and the shadow vanished. There was definitely no one there.
Coco thought then of the strange figure in the road and, for some reason, of the long hallway in her dream.
Her heart beating uncomfortably fast, Coco followed Ollie into the bunk room.
