The brick-red Jeep Wrangler cruised beside the icy river, kicking up great sprays of snow. The driver, Peyton Granville, said, “Guess we missed the salt trucks.” Peyton was tall, coyote brown, with a boxer’s build, narrow hips and rich baritone. Tanae Foxxe studied the Tarry Still Alps, due south, straight ahead. Their shaggy peaks shoved through the silvered clouds covering their world. The caramel crème, full-figure model wore feathered false eyelashes, silver eye shadow and cardinal lipstick. She yawned, squeezed Peyton’s thigh and sighed, “Last night was spec-tac-u-lar.” He grinned. “I liked that little bit of pink and gold gift wrap you wore. Hope you brought more.” Tanae considered the thigh-hugger, lace-top stockings, the powder-blue peek-a-boo bra and matching thong in her weekender. Coy, she said, “Could be.” “I like how you think, baby girl.” “And you’re okay, even though you had a weak pick-up line.” “But I’m sexy. And I’m talented.” She eyed him sideways. “So, last night was my appetizer?” “Tonight’s the main course, baby.” “Oooh.” Tanae fluttered her eyelashes. “Can’t wait.” The Jeep followed the Matara River, its ice tracked by the passage of barges and river boats. When they approached the steel town Xanthor Furnace, heavier clouds darkened the dregs-of-winter sky. Tanae tasted bile. At Laurusburg, when they turned west, her throat tightened. She struggled to swallow. When Lake Selene, largest in the region, glimmered tarnished and dull beside the mountains, her heart galloped. Hoarse, she said, “Seeing the lake in winter is different.” Peyton asked, “Are you all right?” “I don’t know.” Tanae rubbed the goose bumps rising under her fur jacket. He frowned and said, “Maybe we should have stayed at the spa another night or gone skiing.” Tanae massaged her throat and rasped, “I can’t explain why, but coming back to the old resort felt necessary, like something I’ve put off for too long.” “And this return couldn’t wait until summer, when everything’s open?” Tanae shrugged. Her eyes stung, as though burned by smoke. She said, “I need to see the place in the … in …” “Are you trying to say, ‘In the winter?” Peyton shrugged. “Don’t matter, baby girl. If it’s what you want, your wish is my command.” When they reached the inn where he’d reserved a room, Peyton checked the car clock. “Just in time for dinner.” Ashe devoured sirloin and Brazilian lobster, Tanae downed a “Beach Baby,” a banana liqueur, blackberry brandy and dark rum concoction. She followed with “A Sunshine Special” a blend of Bacardi, triple sec, Galliano and orange juice. Peyton studied the Sunshine. “You usually have Pinot Noir with fish, and just one.” Noting her salad and peppered tuna, he asked, “Do you want that wrapped for later?” Tanae huddled over her drink and shook her head, no. “I thought you said that you had good times here.” “I said my family brought me here when I was a kid.” “I can see why. There’s an abandoned amusement park and boardwalk further on. The beaches are nice in warm weather. Why did your people stop coming?” “We were guests of the man who owned the place.” Tanae hugged herself and bit her lip. “Daddy said he moved.” “So, why are we here for our Valentine getaway? What’s this got to do with summer vacations?” “I don’t know.” Tanae raised her palms, then massaged her arms. “I feel as though there’s something here I need to see or find.” “This time of year, with people scarce, you might find it.” Peyton paid the check. “The sky’s clearing. Do you want to walk a bit?” “Not right now.” “Clear some of that Beach Baby and Sunshine Special. You should have eaten more, Tanae.” Tanae huffed. She planted her elbows on the table and her chin on her palms. She blinked but could not erase pictures of slate swells humping toward shore, thrashing and spewing foam. When graphite eyes peered up from the depths, fierce and feral, Tanae wrapped her arms around herself tight and shrank from the sing-song, He does not howl when he prowls. Her gut twisted. Peyton asked, “What’s wrong?” Tanae steadied herself and rasped, “Nothing.” “Is your liquid dinner getting to you?” “I don’t know. Let’s find our room.” * * *   The next morning, Tanae woke alone. Curled at the bed’s edge, she still wore her slacks and sweater. Shrouded in lake air and wave thrum, Tanae jumped when a key turned the door’s lock. Peyton entered wearing jogging clothes. When he opened the drapes, a wan light filled the room. He asked, “Are you feeling better?” “I’m sorry about last night, Peyton. We had all these plans.” “You act like we never had sex before. I brung out my masterpiece, and you spooked like you was watching that Anaconda movie. What’s going on?” “You know I like being with you. I wanted last night to be, to …” Tanae choked. “It’s almost time to check out and move on, baby girl.  Do you want to shower first?” When they reached the Jeep, mists thickened the lake’s chill air. In the car, Tanae wanted to warm her hands with the heat gushing from the vents but held her body tight. As they tracked through the snow along Selene Basin’s southern shore, she stared from the iced-over beach to the bleak, thrashing water. She thought, I used to like how sunlight sparkled on the waves and imagining where boats went when they crossed the horizon. I hoped I would like it here again. Maybe the problem is the cold. The winter. Why did I come here now? She said, “I don’t know what’s going on.” “Are you sure you want to go back to that place where your family stayed? There’s word it’s being redeveloped. Might not be nothing left from your time. Maybe I ought to take you home.” Tanae forced the words, “Keep going.” A mile further, white-washed wooden shops lined a boardwalk. Two hundred yards west, blackened beams emerged