Chapter 7: Power Out

They tell me everything, Lars had said, and I walked out of the club with his voice still in my ears.

Roz drove me to the cabin without a word until the gravel road.

"He's scared," she said then. "A man who's winning doesn't need to say that."

"He's winning."

"Then why'd he say it twice?"

I didn't have an answer.

The storm hit at dusk.

By six the wind was bending the pines, and by seven the lights in the cabin flickered and went out.

Nolan found two lanterns and a stack of wool blankets in a hall closet.

"The stove's in the bedroom," he said. "It's the only room that holds heat. We'll sleep in there tonight."

"We?"

"The couch will freeze. I'll take the floor."

He built the fire himself, kneeling at the stove with his sleeves pushed up.

I sat on the edge of the bed in his sweatshirt and watched the light move on his forearms.

He was careful with the kindling. He took his time with it.

I told him about the luncheon, the microphone, the speech.

He listened without interrupting.

"You didn't have to go," he said when I finished.

"Brent told me not to."

"Brent called you?"

"Monday night."

He sat back on his heels. For a second he looked at the fire and not at me.

"Brent's a coward," he said. "But he's not stupid."

"What does that mean?"

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