Chapter 24: Room Nine, Brown Detector

Larch Point Lodge in late October was a different place.

The gravel lot was empty except for the owner's truck. The leaves were down, and the lake lay flat and gray under a pale sky.

The owner let us in without asking a single question, and she handed us the key to Room Nine.

"The detector in there is brown," she said. "I checked it myself when your friend's complaint came in."

"Thank you," said Winston.

"Nobody else is booked until the spring."

We walked down to the dock before we went upstairs.

The rail was new, pale pine, still smelling of the lumberyard.

Winston ran his good hand along the top of it, and then he put his weight on it and leaned.

"Holds," he said.

"Of course it holds."

"I wrote the report myself. They fixed it in four days." He glanced at me, almost shy. "I've never been this pleased with a rail."

I took his left hand and turned it over.

There was a pink scar across the palm where the splinter had gone in.

I kissed the center of it, and he went very still.

"Signe."

"What?"

"I'd like to go up to the room."

"I'd like that too."

Room Nine was cold, with the radiator ticking and the lake in the window.

The bed was made. The dresser was bare.

Winston stood on the chair and looked at the smoke detector on the ceiling for a long time.

Then he got down and brushed off his hands.

"Brown," he said.

"Good."

I took off my coat and hung it on the hook. I took off the cardigan beneath it.

"Rule one," I said. "For twenty-four hours, in every way, you are the couple you draw."

"Vera's rule."

"I don't have a slip. I'd like to make an offer."