Whistler's Angel by John R. Maxim Read Free Book Online Page A

proceeded to make an introduction.
    “My name,” he announced, “is Harry Whistler, and this is my bashful son, Adam. He’s an adequate skier and not so bad looking except when he’s rolling his eyes. Is he doing that?”
    Her smile became a grin. “He’s trying not to.”
    “Have you ever skied Europe? Ever skied the French Alps?”
    “Only in my dreams. Maybe someday.”
    “Not to push it, but I’d love to have you both come to visit. I have a chalet there. You’d have your own room.”
    She looked at Adam. “Not to push it?”
    “Please ignore him.”
    “Is there really a chalet?”
    “In Chamonix, yes. But don’t listen to this.”
    He didn’t remember regarding her then as being exceptionally beautiful. What struck him the most was her warmth. She had a glow about her that was purely her own long before she ever met that white light.
    Her ski suit, come to think of it, was a solid white as well. That heightened the effect of the glow. Her body seemed lean, long muscled, athletic. Bronze skin, nose lightly freckled, her hair reddish-brown. She wore it shoulder length, curling under her chin, held in place by a white woolen headband. Her eyes were brown as well and had little gold flecks. Her mouth seemed almost too wide for her face, but the grin it produced was just dazzling.
    She took off her glove and held out her hand. She said, “My name’s Claudia. Hi.”
    Whistler took it, still trying to stammer an apology. His father, he said, was...well, his father.
    A knowing nod said that she understood. “My mother does this to me all the time. No harm done. Nice meeting you, Adam.”
    With that, she waved and started down the hill. He watched her go. She
    was a marvelous skier. His father smacked his arm. “Why are you still here?” But he’d waited too long and he’d lost sight of her.

SIX
    He saw her in the village early that evening. He’d gone out hoping that he would. His father, happily, had remained at their hotel, opting for a soak in that Jacuzzi. Whistler spotted her standing outside a ski shop, looking over a rack of jackets and sweaters on sale at fifty percent off. She had unzipped her ski suit down to her breastbone. She wore a white turtleneck underneath. He could see that her body was considerably more shapely than the ski suit had previously revealed.
    And she also looked younger than she had on the hill. Too young. This was crazy. He had started to turn, deciding not to approach her, but she glanced up and saw him. He was caught.
    She said, “Hi, Adam.” She’d remembered his name. He could feel the color rising on his cheeks.
    “Claudia, look, that business on the mountain...”
    “It was sweet if that was really your father.”
    “Oh, it was.”
    “You seemed more like good friends than a father and son. I like that. Is your Mom here as well?”
    “She’s...no. We lost her. Some years ago.”
    “I’m sorry. Me, too. My Dad, I mean.”
    He said, “Claudia, if I asked you...to have dinner with me...”
    “You mean here or in France?”
    “Well, I thought here for starters.”
    “Rats, I was ready to be swept off my feet. Are you terribly rich and successful?”
    “Not terribly.”
    “Well, at least are you nice? You seem pretty nice.”
    “I could go and get a note from my father. Would that help?”
    She laughed. “Maybe I’ll take your word.”
    “Does...that mean you’ll have dinner?”
    “How about a cup of tea? Would you settle for that?”
    “If I have to. Sure. Name the place.”
    “Help me pick out a sweater, then we’ll walk to the Jerome. I’m meeting my mother there in ten minutes. Call your father, see if he’d care to join us.”
    “He’s...taking a bath. I don’t think he’d...”
    “It’s your chance to get even. Fix him up with my mom. Anyway, he’s fun. Why don’t you call him?”
    “Sure, why not?”
    Actually, he knew, there was almost no need. His father, very soon, would know where he’d be because, out of nowhere, looking