got entangled in the bedclothes, and struggled to free herself.
Had someone set off a bomb? She panicked, but finally
managed to extricate herself and looked in every direction.
Renie was wrestling with the pillow, trying to cover her
head. “Stupid Bulgarians,” she muttered. “Why are they always working on their damned condos across the street?
Why don’t they build something back home in Blagoevgrad?”
Judith was at the door, shoving the armchair out of the
way. “Wake up, you’re not on Heraldsgate Hill, you’re at
Mountain Goat Lodge.” As she cautiously opened the door,
another explosion sounded. “It’s outside. What now?” She
rushed to the windows, then gaped. “It’s raining! Maybe that
was thunder!”
“It’s the Bulgarians,” Renie repeated, her voice muffled by
the pillow. “Ignore them and go back to sleep.”
Judith ignored Renie. A glance at her watch told her it was
just after seven-thirty. The morning was very gray, with rain
pelting the snow. Judith waited for a flash of lightning, but
heard only another loud, shuddering noise.
“That’s not thunder,” she said. “What could it be?”
Renie finally removed the pillow and struggled to sit up.
“Damn. You’re determined to annoy me.” She rubbed her
eyes, yawned, and stretched. “Okay, you win. What explosions?”
Judith turned away from the window. “Didn’t you hear
them?”
Renie yawned again. “I heard something, or else I wouldn’t
be awake. I told you, it sounds like the Bulgarians across the
street from our house. They’re always renovating or adding
on or digging up or tearing…”
A fourth explosion interrupted Renie. “That’s not the
Bulgarians,” Judith declared.
“Probably not,” Renie agreed, cocking her head. “It’s the
avalanche crew.”
Judith was startled. “What avalanche crew?”
“You said it’s raining?” Renie yanked back the covers and
sat on the edge of the bed. “Then it’s gotten much warmer
during the night, which, after a heavy snowfall, means there’s
an avalanche danger. To prevent disasters, the crews set off
explosions to break up the snow. I thought everybody knew
that.”
“If I did, I’d forgotten,” Judith murmured, moving away
from the windows. “Great—now the roof will cave in. What
next, plague and locusts?”
“Floods,” Renie responded. “Maybe fires.” She reached for
a cigarette.
“Oh, no! Not this early!” Judith railed. “Haven’t you run
out of those things yet?”
Renie shook her head. “I brought a whole carton with me.
Why do you care? Your mother still smokes. Joe has his cigars. What’s wrong with Little Renie’s little weedies?”
