Ice Cold

3

THEY FLED THE PATHOLOGISTS’ COCKTAIL PARTY EARLY AND DINED at the Four Seasons Resort in Teton Village. Eight straight hours of lectures about stabbings and bombings, bullets and blowflies, had left Maura overwhelmed by talk of death, and she was relieved to escape back to the normal world, where casual conversation didn’t include talk of putrefaction, where the most serious issue of the evening was choosing between a red or a white wine.

“So how did you break your leg at Stanford?” she asked as Doug swirled Pinot Noir in his glass.

He winced. “I was hoping you’d forget about that subject.”

“You promised to tell me. It’s the reason I came to dinner.”

“Not because of my scintillating wit? My boyish charm?”

She laughed. “Well, that, too. But mostly the tale behind the broken leg. I have a feeling it’s going to be a doozy.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “The truth? I was fooling around on the rooftop of Wilbur Hall and I fell off.”

She stared at him. “My God, that’s a really long drop.”

“As I found out.”

“I assume alcohol was involved?”

“Of course.”

“So it was just a typical dumb college stunt.”

“Why do you sound so disappointed?”

“I expected something a little more, oh, unconventional.”

“Well,” he admitted, “I left out a few details.”

“Such as?”

“The ninja outfit I was wearing. The black mask. The plastic sword.” He gave an embarrassed shrug. “And the very humiliating ambulance ride to the hospital.”

She regarded him with a calmly professional gaze. “And do you still like to dress up as a ninja these days?”

“You see?” He barked out a laugh. “That’s what makes you so intimidating! Anyone else would have been laughing at me. But you respond with a very logical, very sober question.”

“Is there a sober answer?”

“Not a single damn one.” He lifted his glass in a toast. “Here’s to stupid college pranks. May we never live them down.”

She sipped and set down her wine. “What did you mean when you said that I’m intimidating?”

“You always have been. There I was, this goofy kid ambling my way through college. Partying too hard and sleeping too late. But you-you were so focused, Maura. You knew exactly what you wanted to be.”

“And that made me intimidating?”

“Even a little scary. Because you had it all together, and I sure as hell didn’t.”

“I had no idea I had that effect on people.”

“You still do.”

She considered that statement. She thought about the police officers who always fell silent whenever she walked into a crime scene. She thought about the Christmas party where she’d so responsibly limited herself to a single flute of champagne while everyone else grew raucous. The public would never see Dr. Maura Isles drunk or loud or reckless. They would see only what she allowed them to see. A woman in control. A woman who scares them.

“It’s not as if being focused is some sort of flaw,” she said, in her own defense. “It’s the only way anything gets accomplished in this world.”

“Which is probably why it took me so long to accomplish anything.”

“You made it to medical school.”

“Eventually. After I spent two years bumming around, which drove my dad totally nuts. I worked as a bartender in Baja. Taught surfing in Malibu. Smoked too much pot and drank a lot of bad wine. It was great.” He grinned. “You, Dr. Isles, wouldn’t have approved.”

“It’s not something I would have done.” She took another sip of wine. “Not then, anyway.”

His eyebrow tilted up. “Meaning you’d do it now?”

“People do change, Doug.”

“Yeah, look at me! I never dreamed I’d one day end up a boring pathologist, trapped in the hospital basement.”

“So how did that happen? What made you transform from a beach bum into a respectable doctor?”

Their conversation paused as the waiter brought their entrées. Roast duck for Maura, lamb chops for Doug. They sat through the obligatory grinding of the pepper, the refilling of their wineglasses. Only after the waiter left did Douglas answer her question.

“I got married,” he said.

She had not noticed a wedding ring on his finger, and this was the first time he’d said anything about being in a relationship. The revelation made her glance up in surprise, but he was not looking at her; he was gazing at another table, at a family with two little girls.

“It was a bad match from the start,” he admitted. “Met her at a party. Gorgeous blonde, blue eyes, legs up to here. She heard I was applying to med school and she had visions of being a rich doctor’s wife. She didn’t realize she’d end up spending weekends alone while I was working in the hospital. By the time I finished my pathology residency, she’d found someone else.” He sliced into his lamb chop. “But I got to keep Grace.”

“Grace?”

“My daughter. Thirteen years old and every bit as gorgeous as her mom. I’m just hoping to turn her in a more intellectual direction than her mom went.”

“Where’s your ex-wife now?”

“She got remarried, to a banker. They live in London, and we’re lucky if we hear from her twice a year.” He set down his knife and fork. “So that’s how I became Mr. Mom. I’ve now got a daughter, a mortgage, and a job at the VA in San Diego. Who could ask for anything more?”

“And are you happy?”

He shrugged. “It’s not the life I imagined when I was at Stanford, playing ninja on the rooftops. But I can’t complain. Life happens, and you adjust.” He smiled at her. “Lucky you, you’re exactly what you envisioned. You always wanted to be a pathologist, and here you are.”

“I also wanted to be married. I failed miserably at that.”

He studied her. “I find it so hard to believe that there’s no man in your life right now.”

She pushed pieces of duck around on her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. “Actually, I am seeing someone.”

He leaned in, focusing intently. “Tell me more.”

“It’s been about a year.”

“That sounds serious.”

“I’m not sure.” His gaze made her uneasy, and she dropped her attention back to her meal. She could feel him studying her, trying to read what she wasn’t telling him. What started as a lighthearted conversation had suddenly turned deeply personal. The dissection knives were out and secrets were spilling.

“Is it serious enough that there might be wedding bells?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

She looked at him. “Because he’s not available.”

He leaned back, clearly surprised. “I never thought someone as levelheaded as you would fall for a married man.”

She started to correct him, then stopped herself. Practically speaking, Daniel Brophy was indeed a married man, married to his church. There was no spouse more jealous, more demanding. She would have a better chance of claiming him if he’d been bound to merely another woman.

“I guess I’m not as levelheaded as you thought,” she said.

He gave a surprised laugh. “You must have a wild streak I never knew about. How did I miss it back at Stanford?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Basic personalities don’t really change much.”

“You’ve changed.”

“No. Beneath this Brooks Brothers blazer still beats the heart of a beach bum. Medicine’s just my job, Maura. It pays the bills. It’s not who I am.”

“And what do you imagine I am?”

“The same person you were at Stanford. Competent. Professional. Not one to make mistakes.”

“I wish that were true. I wish I didn’t make mistakes.”

“This man you’re seeing, is he a mistake?”

“I’m not ready to admit that.”

“Do you regret it?”

His question made her pause, not because she was unsure of the answer. She knew she was not happy. Yes, there were moments of bliss when she’d hear Daniel’s car in the driveway or his knock on her door. But there were also the nights when she sat alone at her kitchen table, drinking too many glasses of wine. Nursing too many resentments.

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

“I’ve never regretted anything.”

“Even your marriage?”

“Even my disaster of a marriage. I believe that every experience, every wrong decision, teaches us something. That’s why we shouldn’t be afraid to make mistakes. I jump into things with both feet, and sometimes it gets me into hot water. But in the end, everything has a way of working out.”

“So you just trust in the universe?”

“I do. And I sleep very well at night. No doubts, no closet full of anxieties. Life’s too short for that. We should just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

The waiter came to clear away the dishes. While she had finished only half her meal, Doug had cleaned his plate, devouring his lamb chops the way he seemed to devour life itself, with joyous abandon. He ordered cheesecake and coffee for dessert; Maura asked only for chamomile tea. When it all arrived, he slid the cheesecake halfway between them.

“Go on,” he said. “I know you want some.”

Laughing, she picked up her fork and took a generous bite. “You’re a bad influence.”

“If we were all well behaved, how boring would life be? Besides, cheesecake is only a minor sin.”

“I’ll have to repent when I get home.”

“When are you headed back?”

“Not till Sunday afternoon. I thought I’d stay an extra day and take in some of the scenery. Jackson Hole ’s pretty spectacular.”

“Are you touring around on your own?”

“Unless some gorgeous man volunteers to show me around.”

He took a bite of cheesecake and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t know about coming up with a gorgeous man,” he said. “But I could offer you an alternative. My daughter, Grace, is here with me. She’s out tonight at the movies with two of my friends from San Diego. We were planning to drive to a cross-country ski lodge on Saturday and spend the night. We’d be back Sunday morning. There’s room for you in the Suburban. And I’m sure there’s room at the lodge, too, if you’d like to join us.”

She shook her head. “I’d be a fifth wheel.”

“Not at all. They’d love you. And I think you’d like them, too. Arlo’s one of my best friends. By day, he’s a boring accountant. But by night…” Doug’s voice dropped to a sinister growl. “He turns into a celebrity known as the Mysterious Mr. Chops.”

“Who?”

“Just one of the most popular food and wine bloggers on the Web. He’s eaten at every Michelin-starred restaurant in America, and he’s working his way through Europe. I just call him Jaws.”

Maura laughed. “He sounds like fun. And the other friend?”

“Elaine. The gal he’s been dating for years. She does something with interior design, I don’t know what. I think you two would hit it off. Plus, you’d get to meet Grace.”

She took another bite of cheesecake and took her time chewing. Considering.

“Hey, it’s not like I’m proposing marriage,” he teased. “It’s just an overnight road trip, properly chaperoned by my thirteen-year-old daughter.” He leaned in closer, his blue eyes focused intently. “Come on. My wild and crazy ideas almost always end up being fun.”

“Almost always?”

“There’s that unpredictability factor, that chance that something completely unexpected-something amazing-could happen. That’s what makes life an adventure. Sometimes you just have to jump in and trust in the universe.”

At that moment, staring into his eyes, she felt that Doug Comley saw her the way few people did. That he was looking past her defensive armor to see the woman inside. A woman who’d always been afraid of where her heart might take her.

She looked down at the dessert plate. The cheesecake was gone; she didn’t remember having finished it. “Let me give it some thought,” she said.

“Of course.” He laughed. “You wouldn’t be Maura Isles if you didn’t.”

THAT NIGHT, back in her hotel room, she called Daniel.

By his tone of voice, she knew that he was not alone. He was polite but impersonal, as though speaking to any parishioner. In the background she could hear voices discussing the price of heating fuel, the cost of repairing the roof, the drop-off in donations. It was a church budget meeting.

“How is it out there?” he asked. Pleasant and neutral.

“A lot colder than Boston. There’s already snow on the ground.”

“It hasn’t stopped raining here.”

“I’ll be landing Sunday night. Can you still pick me up at the airport?”

“I’ll be there.”

“And afterward? We can have a late supper at my house, if you’d like to stay the night.”

A pause. “I’m not sure I can. Let me think about it.”

It was almost the same answer she’d given Doug earlier that evening. And she remembered what he’d said. Sometimes you just have to jump in and trust in the universe.

“Can I call you back Saturday?” he said. “I’ll know my schedule then.”

“Okay. But if you can’t reach me, don’t worry. I may be out of cell phone range.”

“Talk to you then.”

There was no parting I love you, just a quiet goodbye and the conversation was over. The only intimacies they ever shared were behind closed doors. Every encounter was planned in advance, and afterward repeatedly analyzed. Too much thinking, Doug would have said. All that thinking hadn’t brought her happiness.

She picked up the hotel phone and dialed the operator. “Can you connect me to the room of Douglas Comley, please?” she said.

It took four rings for him to answer. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” she said. “Does the invitation still stand?”