Her Own Rules

Tonight was no exception.

Her anticipation started the moment Jonas pulled off Route 45 North near Cornwall, and nosed the car through the big iron gates that marked the entrance to the vast Silver Lake property.

Jonas drove slowly down the road that led to the lake, the inn, and the small compound of buildings on its shores. It was a good road, well illuminated by the old-fashioned street lamps Meredith had installed some years before.

Peering out of the car windows, she could see that Pete had had some of the workers busy with the bulldozer earlier in the day. The road was clear, the snow banked high like giant white hedges, and in the woods that traversed the road on either side there were huge drifts blown by the wind into weird sand-dune shapes.

The branches of the trees were heavy with snow, many of them dripping icicles, and in the moonlight the pristine white landscape appeared to shimmer as if sprinkled with a fine coating of silver dust.

Meredith could not help thinking how beautiful the woods were in their winter garb. But then, this land was always glorious, no matter what the season of the year, and it was so special to her, no other place in the world could compare to it.

The first time she had set eyes on Silver Lake she had been awed by its majestic beauty—the great lake shining in the spring sunlight, a smooth sheet of glass, surrounded by lush meadows and orchards, the whole set in a natural basin created by the soaring wooded hills that rose up to encircle the entire property.

She had fallen in love with it instantly and had gone on loving it with a growing passion ever since.

Twenty-six years ago this year, she thought, I was only eighteen. So long ago, more than half her life ago. And yet it might have been only yesterday, so clear and fresh was the memory in her mind.

She had come to Silver Lake Inn to apply for the job of receptionist, which she had seen advertised in the local paper. The Paulsons, the American family who had brought her with them from Australia as an au pair, were moving to South Africa because of Mr. Paulson’s job. She did not want to go there. Nor did she wish to return to her native Australia. Instead, she preferred to stay in America, in Connecticut, to be precise.

It had been the middle of May, not long after her birthday, and she had arrived on a borrowed bicycle, looking a bit windswept, to say the least.

Casting her mind back now, she pictured herself as she had been then—tall, skinny, all arms and legs like a young colt. Yet pretty enough in a fresh young way. She had been full of life and vitality, eager to be helpful, eager to please. That was her basic nature and she was a born peacemaker.

Jack and Amelia Silver had taken to her at once, as she had to them. But they had been concerned about her staying in America without the Paulsons, had inquired about her family in Sydney, and what they would think. Once she explained that her parents were dead, they had been sympathetic, sorry that she had lost them so young. And they had understood then that she had no real reason to go back to the Antipodes.

After they had talked on the phone to Mrs. Paulson, they had hired her on the spot.

And so it had begun, an extraordinary relationship that had changed her life.

Meredith straightened in her seat as the inn came into view. Lights blazed in many of the windows, and this was a welcoming sight. She could hardly wait to be inside, to be with Blanche and Pete, surrounded by so many familiar things in that well-loved place.

Within seconds Jonas was pulling up in front of the inn. He had barely braked when the front door flew open and bright light flooded out onto the wide porch.

A moment later Blanche and Pete O’Brien were at the top of the steps, and as Meredith opened the car door, Pete was already halfway down, exclaiming, “Welcome, Meredith, you’ve certainly made it in good time despite the snow.”

“Hello, Pete,” she said as he enveloped her in a hug. She added, as they drew apart, “There’s nobody like Jonas when it comes to driving. He’s the best.”

“That he is. Hi, Jonas, good to see you,” Pete said, nodding to the driver, smiling at him. “I’ll help you with Mrs. Stratton’s bags.”

“Evening, Mr. O’Brien, but I can manage. There’s nothing much to carry.”

Meredith left the two men to deal with the bags, and ran up the steps.

“It’s good to be back here, Blanche!”

The two women embraced and then Blanche, smiling up at Meredith, led her inside. “And it’s good to have you back, Meredith, if only for one night.”

“I wish I could stay longer, but as I explained on the phone, I’ve got to get back to the city after the meeting at Hilltops tomorrow.”

Blanche nodded. “I think you’re going to make a deal with the Morrisons. They’re awfully eager to buy an inn, get away from New York, lead a different kind of life.”

“I’m keeping my fingers crossed,” Meredith said, shrugging out of her heavy gray wool cape, throwing it down on a bench.

“I know you’ll like them, they’re a lovely couple, very sincere, straight as a dye, and quite aside from wanting to start a new business, they love this part of Connecticut.”

“And why not, it’s God’s own country,” Meredith murmured. She glanced around the entrance hall. “Everything looks wonderful, Blanche, so warm, welcoming.”

Blanche beamed at her. “Thanks, Meredith, you know I love this old place as much as you do. Anyway, you must be starving. I didn’t think you’d want a full dinner at this late hour, so I made some smoked salmon sandwiches, and there’s fruit and cheese. Oh and I have a hunter’s soup bubbling on the stove.”

“The soup sounds great. You make the best, and they’re usually a meal in themselves. I’m sure Jonas is hungry after the long drive, so perhaps you’d offer him the soup too, and some sandwiches.”

“I will.”

Pete came in with Meredith’s overnight bag and briefcase. “Jonas has gone to park the car,” he explained. “I’ll take these upstairs.”

“Thanks, Pete,” Meredith said.

“I’ve put you in the toile de Jouy suite,” Blanche told her, “because I know how much you like it. Now, do you want a tray up there? Or shall I bring it to the bar parlor?”

“I’ll have it down here in the parlor, thanks, Blanche,” Meredith said, peering into the room that opened off the inn’s large entrance hall. “I see you have a fire going…that’s nice. I think I’ll make myself a drink. Would you like one, Blanche?”

“Why not. I’ll join you in a vodka and tonic. But first let me go and fix a tray for Jonas, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She hurried off in the direction of the kitchen.

Meredith went into the bar parlor, glancing around as she strolled over to the huge stone hearth at the far end of the room. The fire burning brightly, the red carpet, the red velvet sofas and tub chairs covered in red and cream linen, gave the parlor a warm, rosy feeling. This was further enhanced by the red brocade curtains at the leaded windows, the polished mahogany paneled walls, and the red shades on the wall sconces. It was a slightly masculine room in feeling and rather English in overtone; there was a mellowness about it that Meredith had always liked.

The carved mahogany bar was to the left of the fireplace, facing the leaded windows. Meredith went behind it, took two glasses, added ice, and poured a good measure of Stolichnaya Cristal into each one. She smiled to herself when she noticed the small plate of lime wedges next to the ice bucket. Blanche had second-guessed her very accurately. Her old friend had known she would have her drink in here. The bar parlor had always been a favorite spot of hers in the inn, as it was with everyone, because it was so intimate and cozy. And conducive to drinking. Jack had been smart when he had created the bar parlor.

Once she had made the drinks, Meredith went over to the fireplace. She stood with her back to it, enjoying the warmth, sipping her vodka, relaxing as she waited for Blanche, whom she thought had never looked better. If there was a tiny fleck of silver in her bright red hair, she was, nonetheless, as slim as she had been as a girl, and the merry dark-brown eyes were as lively as ever. She’s wearing well, Meredith thought, very well indeed.

The two women, who were the same age, had been friends for twenty-four years. Blanche had come to Silver Lake Inn two years after Meredith had taken the job as the receptionist. She had started as a pastry chef in the kitchens, had soon been promoted to chef, since she was an inspired cook. Blanche had enjoyed working in the kitchens until she married Pete, who had always managed the estate for the Silvers, and became pregnant with Billy.

By then Meredith was running the inn, and she offered Blanche the job of assistant manager. Blanche had been delighted to accept the offer at once, glad to be out of the heat, relieved not to lift heavy pots and pans, and thrilled to be able to continue working at the inn.

These days she and Pete ran Silver Lake Inn together and were responsible for its overall management as well as the upkeep of the entire estate. She’s been good for this place, Meredith mused. She’s as passionate about it as I am, and it shows everywhere, and in everything she does.

Blanche interrupted her musings, walking rapidly into the bar parlor, saying, “By the way, you’re not going to believe this, but we’re rather busy this coming weekend. All the rooms are taken. And several suites. Unusual for January, I must say, but I’m not complaining.”

“I’m delighted, and in some ways it’s not that surprising. A lot of people do like being in the country in the snowy weather, and this place has such a great reputation. Thanks, in no uncertain terms, to you and Pete. I do appreciate all you both do, Blanche.”

“We love the inn, you know that.”

“By the way, Catherine sends her love to you and Pete.”

Blanche smiled. “And give her ours. How is she, Meredith?”

“As wonderful as always, and doing so well with her work; she’s turned out to be a fine illustrator. And, of course, she’s madly in love.”

“With Keith Pearson?”