and he still couldn't believe what had happened. He played it over in his mind again several times, and wondered inevitably if his days with Whittaker and Jones were over. It was hard to guess what would happen in the next six months, but he had already thought about traveling, and maybe even doing some painting. He hadn't had time to even think of doing something like that in ages. But the prospect appealed to him now. He might even teach architecture for a while, if the opportunity presented itself, and he had an idea in the back of his mind about traveling around Europe, and visiting medieval castles. They had fascinated him since college. But first he was going to ski in Vermont, and after that he was going to go back to London and find himself an apartment. It felt like a turning point to him. For the first time in a year, he wasn't reacting to what had been thrown at him. He had made a choice and he was going to do whatever he wanted.
The snow began to collect in drifts, and after three hours on the road, he stopped in Simsbury. There was a small cozy-looking inn that advertised itself as a bed and breakfast. It was the perfect place to spend the night, and the couple who owned it seemed delighted to see him. They showed him to their prettiest room, and he felt relieved again to have abandoned the depressing studio apartment. In fact, his entire stay in New York had been relentlessly unpleasant, and he was delighted that it had ended.
Going to see your family for the holidays? the woman who showed him to his room asked pleasantly. She was heavyset and had dyed blond hair, and there was something very warm and friendly about her.
Actually, no, I'm on my way to go skiing. She nodded, looking pleased, and told him about the town's two best restaurants, both within half a mile, and asked if he'd like her to make reservations for dinner. He hesitated, and then shook his head as he knelt to light a fire with the kindling they had provided.
Ill just grab a sandwich somewhere, but thanks anyway. He hated going to nice restaurants by himself. He had never understood people who did that. It seemed so lonely somehow to be sitting there drinking half a bottle of wine, and eating a thick steak with no one to talk to. The very thought of it depressed him,.
You're welcome to eat with us, if you'd like. She eyed him with interest. He was good-looking and young, and she wondered what he was doing on his own. It seemed odd to her that he wasn't married. She guessed that he was probably divorced, and was sorry her daughter hadn't come up from New York yet. But Charlie had no idea what she had in mind for him, as he thanked her again, and closed the door behind her. Women were always more interested in him than he realized, but he was usually unaware of it. And he hadn't thought of anything like that in years. He hadn't had a date since Carole left him. He had been far too busy mourning. But now, having divested himself of all the responsibilities in his life so unexpectedly, he was suddenly feeling better.
He went out for a hamburger later that night, and was amazed to see how high the snow was. There were several feet on either side of the carefully shoveled driveway, and he smiled to himself as he drove away from the little bed and breakfast. It was so beautiful here, he would have loved to share it with someone. It was odd to be alone all the time, to have no one to make comments to, or share things with, or talk to. He still hadn't gotten used to the silence. But he sat alone as he ate his hamburger, and took a bag of sweet rolls with him for the morning, and the hotel had promised to provide him with a thermos of coffee. They had offered to make breakfast for him too, but he wanted to get an early start, provided the snow would let him.
It was a clear, quiet night when he went back to the little inn, and he stood outside for a minute, looking at the sky. It was incredibly beautiful and his face tingled in the cold air, and then
The snow began to collect in drifts, and after three hours on the road, he stopped in Simsbury. There was a small cozy-looking inn that advertised itself as a bed and breakfast. It was the perfect place to spend the night, and the couple who owned it seemed delighted to see him. They showed him to their prettiest room, and he felt relieved again to have abandoned the depressing studio apartment. In fact, his entire stay in New York had been relentlessly unpleasant, and he was delighted that it had ended.
Going to see your family for the holidays? the woman who showed him to his room asked pleasantly. She was heavyset and had dyed blond hair, and there was something very warm and friendly about her.
Actually, no, I'm on my way to go skiing. She nodded, looking pleased, and told him about the town's two best restaurants, both within half a mile, and asked if he'd like her to make reservations for dinner. He hesitated, and then shook his head as he knelt to light a fire with the kindling they had provided.
Ill just grab a sandwich somewhere, but thanks anyway. He hated going to nice restaurants by himself. He had never understood people who did that. It seemed so lonely somehow to be sitting there drinking half a bottle of wine, and eating a thick steak with no one to talk to. The very thought of it depressed him,.
You're welcome to eat with us, if you'd like. She eyed him with interest. He was good-looking and young, and she wondered what he was doing on his own. It seemed odd to her that he wasn't married. She guessed that he was probably divorced, and was sorry her daughter hadn't come up from New York yet. But Charlie had no idea what she had in mind for him, as he thanked her again, and closed the door behind her. Women were always more interested in him than he realized, but he was usually unaware of it. And he hadn't thought of anything like that in years. He hadn't had a date since Carole left him. He had been far too busy mourning. But now, having divested himself of all the responsibilities in his life so unexpectedly, he was suddenly feeling better.
He went out for a hamburger later that night, and was amazed to see how high the snow was. There were several feet on either side of the carefully shoveled driveway, and he smiled to himself as he drove away from the little bed and breakfast. It was so beautiful here, he would have loved to share it with someone. It was odd to be alone all the time, to have no one to make comments to, or share things with, or talk to. He still hadn't gotten used to the silence. But he sat alone as he ate his hamburger, and took a bag of sweet rolls with him for the morning, and the hotel had promised to provide him with a thermos of coffee. They had offered to make breakfast for him too, but he wanted to get an early start, provided the snow would let him.
It was a clear, quiet night when he went back to the little inn, and he stood outside for a minute, looking at the sky. It was incredibly beautiful and his face tingled in the cold air, and then
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