Chapter 20L
ast night’s snowfall has left its signature tracery on the trees and shrubs, the roof peaks, and the bridge rails. Rita stirs a pot of oatmeal as she watches the deer forage. Anna stands by the window, transfixed. Ceci opens the window and the deer bolt, crashing through the bushes.
Connie duck-walks into the kitchen.
“So, what did you decide?” Rita asks her.
“About?” She yawns.
“Anna. Hunter Mountain.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Con. It’ll be good for her.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s the bunny slope,” Rita says.
“I want to go to the bunny slope,” Ceci says. “I’m a bunny, too.”
“I can only handle one bunny at a time,” Rita smiles. “Anna first because she’s—”
“The oldest, I know. No fair,” Ceci pouts. “She always gets to be the oldest.”
The women crack up and Ce
