The Stroke of Winter(70)

The road was lined with pine trees and solar lights, so drivers wouldn’t lose their way in the darkness, finding themselves snow blind and off course in the middle of the big lake, where the ice was thin. Many souls perished that way.

But on this day, the sky was clear, and the sun was bright. On their way down to the lake, Wyatt and Tess stopped at Jim’s store for sandwiches—ham, brie, and arugula on French bread from the same baker who made Jim’s croissants—and water for the two of them and the dogs. Jim stuffed it into Wyatt’s backpack.

“A winter picnic!” Jim said. “I love it! That’s the way to do Wharton winter right. Have fun, kids.”

Down at the lake, Wyatt helped Tess into her snowshoes and then put on his own, and together they trudged onto the lake itself.

Tess saw that, in addition to the ice road, someone had plowed paths for snowshoers, and trails for cross-country skiers. A dozen or so folks were skiing on the trails near the shore, and she saw several more people between Wharton and Colette on snowshoes. A colorful sail whizzed by—an ice windsurfer. And dogs were running along with their people.

Tess turned to Wyatt. “This is amazing,” she said. “It’s as busy out here now as it is in the summer. I had no idea!”

“Winter is Wharton’s best-kept secret,” he said. “The channel usually freezes over, but not all the time. And when it does, people come out to take advantage of it.”

They headed off, down the snowshoe path along the shoreline.

“I know of a great place about a half mile from here,” Wyatt said. “Do you think you can make it that far?”

Tess grinned at him. “A half mile? I think I can manage that.”

“Just you wait,” he said, wagging a gloved finger at her. “Snowshoeing looks easy, but it’s kind of tiring. A good workout for sure.”

He wasn’t kidding. This wasn’t like walking. But Tess loved it, the feel of exertion in the cold, the chilly air filling her lungs, the snow on the lake glittering like it was covered in tiny diamonds. Even her newfound vantage point, standing out on the frozen lake looking back toward the shore, was a revelation. She could see the main street, Wyatt’s house, the turret at La Belle Vie, and the magnificent Harrison’s House on the hill, with its enormous wraparound porch, watching down over them all.

They rounded a corner along the shoreline, and Tess saw the “great place” Wyatt had been talking about. Several firepits, fires blazing in each one, were dotted along the shoreline. Hay bales covered by fleecy throw blankets were positioned around them. Tess saw a family roasting marshmallows around one firepit, and a few couples, beers in hand, around another.

On the lake, just far enough away from the firepits to avoid the heat, stood a three-sided building made entirely out of blocks of ice that had been colored in a hazy blue. Tess could see a long bar inside the building, also made of ice. A bartender wearing a heavy moose-hide jacket with a fur-lined hood was pouring drinks. Candles in ice luminaries twinkled.

Her mouth dropped open. “This is amazing,” she said. “Oh, Wyatt, I can’t believe this.”

“I thought you might enjoy it,” Wyatt said, grinning. “Come on! Let’s snag one of those firepits for our picnic and then grab a drink.”

They trudged their way to one of the firepits and laid claim to a hay bale with Wyatt’s backpack and then headed over to the ice bar. Wyatt snapped the dogs off their leashes, and they ran together, jumping and playing in the snow, nearly unable to contain their joy. The feeling washed over Tess and worked its way inside of her, straight to her heart.

As they got closer to the ice bar, Tess saw that the bundled-up bartender was Grant.

“Hey, man,” Wyatt said to him, bumping mittened fists together.

“Hey, you two,” Grant said. “Tess, is this your first time out here?”

“Yes, and wow. This is so amazing,” she said.

“Grant is one of the organizers of this winter park on the lake,” Wyatt said. “Wharton Wonderland, they call it.”

“Gotta take advantage of the season,” Grant said. “We’re going to be lighting the tree this weekend. Santa’s coming for the kids. Fun and games for them. The whole town comes out.”

He pulled off his mitten to reveal a slim glove and reached under the bar for two shot glasses, both made of ice, and a bottle of schnapps.

“Here’s some fun and games for adults,” he said, grinning. “In honor of your first time in our Wharton Wonderland, this one’s on me.” He poured the schnapps into the glasses. “In fact,” he said, producing a glass for himself, “I’ll join you.”

They held their glasses aloft. Tess caught Wyatt’s eye and said, “Happy days.”

Wyatt cleared his throat, his eyes glistening. “Happy days.”

The three of them clinked glasses and downed the schnapps. Not Tess’s usual drink of choice, but somehow, out here in the cold, it seemed like just the right thing. It slid down her throat and warmed her from the inside out.

“Some wine with our lunch?” Wyatt asked.

Tess grinned. “You may have to carry me out of here, but sure.”

“Oh, the dogs will pull you,” he said. “No problem.”

Grant chuckled as he poured wine into two plastic cups and popped lids on them. “Hey, I hear we may be doing some ghost hunting at your place later,” he said to her.