“I had one of Avery Snowden’s men doing some work on the mountain. He stayed behind, and I used his Hummer. I got lucky and managed to get behind a snowplow and followed it on the interstate. I thought I would never get here,” Charles said wearily. “I’m ready. Can we go now?”

“Just as soon as I put my boots on. I’m so glad you’re here, Charles. This is all going to work out, isn’t it?”

“I hope so, Maggie. If it doesn’t, it won’t be for lack of trying.”

Maggie shivered as she thought about Murphy’s Law.

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Jack Emery threw an extra log on the fire and watched the flames shoot upward. “Stand by the fire, Harry. You’ll warm up in a minute. I cranked the heat up to ninety. God, I have never been so cold in my entire life. I’m going to heat up some chicken soup. We’ll both be good as new in a few minutes. First, though, I’m going to warm up some socks in the dryer. My mom always used to say ‘If your feet are warm, you’re good as gold.’ Maggie says that, too, so it must be true.” He was babbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Moreover, he didn’t care.

Harry had his backside to the fire, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. “You talk too damn much, Jack. Just do it before we die of hypothermia.”

Like Harry even knew what hypothermia was. Jack hustled. He tossed two pairs of socks in the dryer and within minutes had two cups of chicken soup heating up in the microwave oven. He carried the socks and soup into the living room and handed Harry’s over to him. “Once our insides are warm, we’ll be okay. I think,” he said.

Harry sat down on the raised hearth and pulled on the warm socks. His eyes rolled upward in sheer delight at the delicious warmth. “The damn weatherman said to expect snow flurries. What’s going on out there is not snow flurries.”

“I know, Harry. I know,” Jack said soothingly. “Sometimes they don’t get it right.”

“They never get it right,” Harry snarled. “What are we supposed to do now? Do you have any food?”

Sensing a Harry meltdown, Jack said, “I do, Harry. You just sit here, and I’ll pop some dinners in the microwave. While I’m doing that, see if you can get in touch with anyone on the landline.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doorbell rang. “Shit! Who could that be?”

“Try opening the door, and you’ll figure it out,” Harry said as he plucked at the numbers on the phone in his hand.