real temperature is below zero and the windchill factor pushes it down
to minus thirty or forty degrees.'
'Ouch,' Heather said. She hugged herself at the very thought of such
arctic cold. 'I'd call that more than roughing it,'
' Youngblood Jack
agreed. 'I'd call it suicide.' I'll make sure we have a good gasoline
supply.
The thermostat had been set low in the two main floors of the
untenanted house.
A stubborn chill pooled everywhere, like the icy remnant of a flood
tide. It surrendered gradually to the electric heat, which Paul
switched on after they ascended from the basement and inspected half
the ground floor. In spite of her insulated ski jacket, Heather
shivered through the entire tour. The house had both character and
every convenience, and would be even easier to settle into than they'd
expected. Eduardo Fernandez's personal effects and clothing had not
been disposed of, so they would need to empty closets to make room for
their own things. In the four months since the old man's sudden death,
the place had been closed and unattended, a thin layer of dust coated
every surface. However, Eduardo had led a neat and orderly life, there
was no great mess with which to deal.
In the final bedroom on the second floor, at the back of the house,
coppery late-afternoon sunlight slanted through west-facing windows,
and the air glowed like that in front of an open furnace door. It was
light without heat, and still Heather shivered.
Toby said, 'This is great, this is terrific!' The room was more than
twice the size of the one in which the boy had slept in Los Angeles,
but Heather knew he was less excited by the dimensions than by the
almost whimsical architecture, which would have sparked the imagination
of any child. The twelve-foot-high ceiling was composed of four groin
vaults, and the shadows that lay across those concave surfaces were
complex and intriguing. 'Neat,' Toby said, staring up at the
ceiling.
'Like hanging under a parachute.' In the wall to the left of the hall
door was a four-footdeep, six-foot-long, arched niche into which a
custom-built bed had been fitted. Behind the headboard on the left and
in the back wall of the niche were recessed bookshelves and deep
cabinets for the storage of model spaceships, action figures, games,
and the other possessions that a young boy cherished. Curtains were
drawn back from both sides of the niche and, when closed, could seal it
off like a berth on an old-fashioned railroad sleeping car.
'Can this be my room, can it, please?' Toby asked. 'Looks to me like
it was made for you,' Jack said. 'Great!' Opening one of the two
other doors in the room, Paul said, 'This walk-in closet is so deep you
could almost say it's a room itself.'
The last door revealed the head of an uncarpeted staircase as tightly
curved as that in a lighthouse. The wooden treads squeaked as the four
of them descended.
Heather instantly disliked the stairs. Perhaps she was somewhat
claustrophobic in that cramped and windowless space, following Paul
