in the papers. That was bad because there were plenty of others who might want to settle old scores. He knew that his father was right about that. Some would want vengeance for things that he’d done, and others for things that he hadn’t done, but ended up being credited for. And now they would know what he looked like.
His father said, “We had fresh snow last night. Let’s forget this for now and go skiing.”
Later that morning they were up on the mountain. They’d skied Little Nell and had paused at Last Dollar. His father’s back was still giving him trouble. He would need to stop every few hundred yards, but quitting was out of the question.
He couldn’t recall how the subject arose, but they found themselves talking about trust. He trusted his father. That trust was absolute. He remarked that he couldn’t think of anyone else that he was able to talk to this way.
“No, Adam,” said his father, “There’s more to it than that. The truth is that you have no one else.”
And he was right.
Here he was, a month shy of his thirty-fourth birthday and his personal life was non-existent. He’d known a few women. Here and there. Now and then. But nothing that could have been called an involvement. And those that he’d met in his line of work all carried as much baggage as he did.
He and his father had been having this discussion as they watched other skiers coming up on the chair lift. Most were couples; they were chatting and grinning. Seeing how much they were enjoying each other made Whistler feel lonelier than ever.
His father asked, “Have you tried to meet someone?”
“You mean someone like these? Someone normal?”
“Why not?”
“I get tired of lying when they ask what I do. I’ve been lying to people since I was ten, except then it was when someone asked me about you.”
His father pretended that his feelings were hurt. “Well, I wish you could have grown up on Sesame Street, Adam. I’m sorry I was such an embarrassment.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. Cut it out.”
“Then you’re saying what? That you’re doomed to be a loner?”
“I…meet lots of people who I’d like to know better. But it’s over before it begins.”
“We’re talking dating, Adam. We’re not talking confessionals. The lady, I assure you, won’t bare her soul either. And, by the way, no one is normal.”
“Yeah, well...”
“I do know how you feel. I might have felt the same way, but I had the good luck to meet your mother.”
“Yeah, but Mom knew who you were from the start.”
“I still kept things from her. Only things that would worry her. In all else, however, we were open with each other. We were partners in every sense of the word. My God, she was wonderful, wasn’t she?”
Whistler’s mother had died of ovarian cancer. Too young. She was only forty-six at the time. She could out-ski either one of them, out-sail almost anyone, but she carried herself with such grace and good humor that they both enjoyed being outdone by her in these and a hundred other ways.
“I still talk to her, Adam. Did you know that?”
“I’ve heard you. I’ve done that myself from time to time.”
“That’s okay, but get your own. Find another woman like her.”
“There aren’t any women like her.”
“I’ll ask you again. Have you looked?”
“I guess not really.”
“You’ll find someone, Adam, but you’ve got to let it happen. If you think it can’t happen, it won’t.”
“I suppose.”
“Now’s a good time to start. Want to meet one? Are you ready?”
“Um...who?”
“That pretty young lady right there.”
He was pointing at Claudia. It was totally at random. She was coming up on the lift at that moment and she had the chair to herself. She saw them looking at her and returned a little smile. She got off, did her boots, and was about to go on when his father called out to her. He asked her to wait. To Whistler’s dismay, his father pulled him forward. He