in their right mind would be outside in this weather,” she finally said. “Maybe there’s a ski lift nearby. The storm might
have shorted the wiring.”
“That’s possible.” Judith moved away from the window.
She tensed as she heard muffled voices in the hall, then the
closing of doors. “The OTIOSE gang must be wrapping it
up for the night. I hope nobody else got hurt. Say, do you
know why Andrea got so mad at Margo this afternoon?”
Renie shook her head. “I couldn’t guess. Women talk a
great line about helping each other in the business world,
but believe me, the sisterhood is a myth. Look at Nadia and
Andrea—there’s bad blood there, too, probably because
Andrea is an officer and Nadia isn’t. It’s every girl for herself,
just like it is with the boys. Maybe more so, because it’s
tougher for women. The old boy network still seems to
function.”
“They’re sure a testy bunch,” Judith remarked. “Frankly,
I’m surprised. I would expect better of people in executive
positions.”
“Not so,” Renie said, turning back the spread on the nearest
twin bed. “These people are under tremendous pressure,
from within and without. As a public utility, OTIOSE is
watched closely by the state and federal commissions, not
to mention the public and the media. So when
they go off on a private retreat like this, they’re supposed to
vent and let their hair down. It’s only natural that their
emotions boil over and they behave badly.”
“They sure do,” Judith agreed.
“They’re spoiled brats,” Renie said. “I’ve tried to explain
that.”
“I know. I’m just not used to it,” Judith said with a shake
of her head. “I’ve never been involved in corporate life. Oh,
there were politics and a pecking order within the library
system, but it wasn’t like this.” Slowly, she wandered around
the room, hugging herself to keep warm and absently taking
in the modest decor: another mountain-scape, a brightly
colored Native American throw rug, a photograph of the
lodge under construction. The handwritten date in the corner
read August 21, 1936.
“This must have been a public works project,” Judith
mused. “You know—one of FDR’s efforts to put the unemployed to work during the Depression.”
“Probably,” Renie agreed. “It has that look—spare, but
functional. Of course the recent owners from the private
sector have tried to jazz it up. Like the fancy kitchen, and
the conference rooms.”
“Speaking of kitchen,” Judith said with a sheepish expression, “I wouldn’t mind getting a little extra something.” She
pointed to her empty plate. “How about you?”
Renie waved her cigarette. “I’m good, but I’ll be your
