Page 59 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

But I could tell it was anything but fine. It struck me then that he felt lost, just like I did. Coping with a change in life goals, activities, environs—a complete life change—was hard. And perhaps doubly so for Peter, since he hadn’t really had a choice in the matter. I felt a pang of something in my chest, a tether to him that … well, I didn’t know how to feel about that.

We walked in silence for a few minutes before I asked gently, “Have you figured out what you’re going to do now? In terms of work? Or are you just retiring early?”

When I looked at him, his face showed a flicker of discomfort, but it was so brief I might’ve imagined it. “I have a couple of ideas, but it’s uncertain.”

“Well, shoot.”

He looked at me then, his expression neutral. “Excuse me?”

“Hit me with your ideas.” When his brow furrowed, I added, “I was coerced into sharing my big idea the other night at dinner, before it was even close to ready for public consumption. Your turn.” I laughed to try to set him at ease.

It didn’t work though, as he sighed yet again, twice, before finally responding, “I thought about inquiring about part-time positions in data analysis or finance. Ideally both. I’d run it by the doctors though.”

“Sounds scintillating.”

He glanced at me then, and I didn’t look away. “It can be.”

“I’m teasing. I can appreciate that. I used to kind of enjoy reading law briefs, sometimes. I made the mistake of saying that out loud at a party one time, and let’s just say I cleared the room.”

He glanced at me with what I might’ve identified as a smile if it hadn’t been so quick. We walked in silence for a minute as we trudged through a snowy section that clearly hadn’t been plowed yet.

“I’ve inquired about volunteer positions at the shelter. I meet with the director on Friday.”

My eyes widened. “A homeless shelter?”

“Animal shelter,” he replied.

My jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

I couldn’t picture him working with animals. At all.

Was he joking? Then again, I’d never heard him joke about anything.

He gave me a quizzical look. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“It’s just … I wouldn’t have pegged you as an animal person. I mean, you have a cat, but …” I waved a hand vaguely, unsure what else to say without offending him.

After a pause, he replied, “You make a lot of assumptions about me.”

I scoffed, “What? No, I don’t.”

He said nothing but glanced over at me briefly.

In the silence, I pondered what he’d said. Had I assumed a lot about him? In my view, I just made some reasonabledeductions based on what I’d seen from him. I wasn’t the type to judge prematurely.

Was I?

I frowned, realizing I wasn’t the most objective person in this scenario. Maybe I’d ask Mari. She’d be honest.

An idea popped in, and I looked at him, seeing no visible emotion. “Hey, feel free to say no, but would you like to carpool on Friday? You said you’re going into town, and I was planning to drop my car off to change the tires, so I need a ride home. The shelter isn’t far from the auto shop. I mean, technically, nothing in Shipsvold is very far from anything. Because, you know, small town.”

I was rambling again. I peered at him to see if he looked annoyed, but his face looked thoughtful. After a moment, he nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”

We walked along in silence for a few minutes, and I almost fell on my face in a particularly icy patch as we rounded the curve back toward our houses. I clumsily grabbed onto his jacket to catch my balance, and he held my elbow as a righted myself.

I tried not to jerk my arm back once I was completely vertical again.

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