“For now,” said Rudy, grinning as though he had some secret knowledge.
* * * *
On their walk along a trail behind the lodge, Rudy explained how he had stumbled upon the perfect viewpoint of the area in his youth, and Trevor felt a tinge of honour that he felt comfortable enough to share the spot with him.
Rudy insisted on leading from behind on the way up from the trail—safer that way, he said—although he was probably being a gentleman and wanted to let Trevor sample the climb without having anyone in his way blocking his view. Not that Trevor would have minded having Rudy’s backside in his sights. He could think of a lot worse.
A fallen tree provided their perfect perch on the crest of a steep hill, although Rudy chose to remain standing. Beneath them, the landscape stretched out like a patchwork quilt of earthen browns and moss green. Scotland’s wild flora and fauna fought for existence against a backdrop of dark granite. Even without prompting, Trevor could make out the lodge’s Celtic-cross shape nestling against the loch. But Ben Nevis stole the view, rising from the earth like a leviathan and dwarfing everything around. To the north of them, what looked like a French castle or fortress painted beige and built into a hill proudly dwarfed the smaller dwellings, the humble cottages that huddled near the loch or around the small road circumnavigating the mountain.
“Is that a castle?” asked Trevor.
“No,” said Rudy quietly. “That’s Mortimer Hall.”
“Mortimer? As in Rudy Mortimer? Are you shitting me? That’s the house you live in?”
“Please don’t, Trev. It’s our ancestral home. Nothing more.”
“Ancestral home? Oh my God,” said Trevor, slapping his hands on his thighs and staring in wonder. “Tell the truth, Rudy. Are you descended from royalty? Or titled, at the very least? And should we be referring to you as ‘my lord’ or ‘your highness’? Oh no, should a commoner like me be kneeling in your presence right now?”
Trevor rocked forward from the log, onto one knee, while an unamused Rudy folded his arms.
“You’re going to get thumped in my presence, if you keep that up.”
Sitting back on the stump, Trevor tipped his head back and laughed, and Rudy soon joined him. He had a nice laugh, and Trevor liked that he had a sense of humour.
“Have to say, it’s beautiful,” said Trevor, appraising the building. Nature had been reshaped to accommodate the structure, but the end result seemed to blend beautifully into the landscape.
“Aye, it surely is. But something so grand can also be lonely,” said Rudy, a tinge of sadness in his voice, before inhaling a deep breath. “Ah well, at least there’s going to be snow today.”
Trevor heaved out a steamy sigh and turned to study him. Quite a pleasant task, if he was going to be totally honest. With his dark red hair and brows, flawless pale skin and moss green eyes, he almost melted into the scenery.
“This again? Am I going to need to find a psychiatrist? What is this obsession of yours with phantom snow?”
“Just humour me, and I’ll explain how I know.”
“I’m all ears,” said Trevor, mirroring Rudy’s folded his arms and crossing his legs at the ankles.
“Where does snow come from?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“No, come on,” he said, dropping down next to Trevor and bumping shoulders—the way Cheryl often did. “Where does snow come from?”
“The North Pole.”
“Come on. You’re not a wee bairn, and this is not Nickelodeon. Think more scientific,” said Rudy, nodding exaggeratedly upwards.
“From the sky. Snow is formed from water retained in clouds that freezes into ice crystals. Once particles become too heavy, they fall like rain—only slower.”
“Correct.” Not only did Trevor find Rudy’s smile and earnestness infectious, but he also enjoyed the warm pressure from their shoulders pressed together. “So if you’re going to predict whether it’ll snow, the first thing you need to do is keep an eye on the sky. Am I right?”
“Which today is cloudless, and as flawlessly blue as the Mediterranean. What’s your point?”
“That’s the first thing. The second thing is to take a deep lungful of air in through your nose and hold for a few seconds. Then, when you slowly release, try to taste and smell what you inhaled. That’s a bit more difficult for you, because you need to be able to tell the difference. I’ve lived here all my life, on and off, so I know the change. But when snow’s coming, the air smells and tastes different.”
Trevor did as asked, and he did notice an almost metallic scent in the air. Not that he was going to tell Rudy and let him off the hook so lightly.
“Next?” asked Trevor, causing Rudy to chuckle.
