Dan initiated small talk as he led us through the house, “How was your trip?” “How are things in New York?” but it was Bonita he engaged with. I, like the others, simply took in the sights, collecting questions I’d ask at the opportune time. We approached the entryway again, and Dan took us up one of the staircases to a terrace overlooking a snow-capped forest. A low-hanging black awning covered a part of the terrace, which was perfect for Bonita; she could admire the view without being in the sun.
The wide glass doors were open. Dan stepped onto the terrace. “Ms. Sasha Snow,” he said with a theatrical gesture, and he bowed slightly and stepped aside.
Sasha Snow stood from the glass table and greeted us with a warm smile.
My first reaction was that there must have been some kind of mistake. This elegant and imposing woman before me was not the same girl in the picture on Bonita’s computer screen. Her hair was black and tied in a bun while loose strands fell to the sides and flirted with her snow-white skin. She wore a silk robe of varying shades of red that further accentuated the red of her lips.
“You have an amazing home, Ms. Snow,” said Bonita. “Thank you so much for having us.”
Sasha Snow glided around the table, her warm smile fixed on Bonita. She took Bonita’s hands in hers. “It’s my pleasure. Thank you for coming.” She glanced at the rest of us. “Thank you all for coming.” She guided Bonita to the table to a seat under the awning. “But you must call me Sasha. Ms. Snow is for my attorneys.”
The instant we all sat down, two men came over and placed baskets onto the table, one of fruits, the other of breads, on the table.
“Allow me to introduce you,” said Sasha. “This is Stevie.” She motioned to the slightly stockier of the two. “And this is Jim.” She motioned to the taller one.
They greeted us with an enthusiastic welcome.
“Tell them how you like your coffee or tea,” said Sasha. “Tell them how you take your eggs or whatever you desire to eat, and they’ll bring it for you. Stevie’s a great cook.” She looked at him with a wry smile on her face. “And he likes to be challenged.”
Stevie flashed a smile at Sasha and said, “It’s not a challenge but a pleasure.”
“The challenge will be remembering the orders,” said Jim. “I’ve never worked as a waiter.”
“Today’s your lucky day,” said Sasha. “I know you can do it. You’re not just good looks and muscle.” She gave him a wink and swiveled in her chair, turning her back to him. “Plus, we’re not going to make our guests cook for themselves.” She stretched out her legs and set them on the empty seat beside her. “And I’m certainly not getting up from this comfortable chair.”
We tried to be diplomatic and said that whatever they had would be fine, but they took to their apparently newly assigned roles with enthusiasm and insisted we order whatever we could dream up, filling in the lapses in our imagination with suggestions of custom omelets they’d be happy to cook up.
When they left us, Ken set his camera on the table and began fiddling with it. Sasha eyed it, and I noticed its presence made her uncomfortable. Trevor must have noticed, too, because he turned to Ken and said, “We can leave the camera alone for now.”
Ken motioned to the spectacular view before us. “This is remarkable. I can’t wait to take some shots.”
Trevor took the camera and placed it on Ken’s lap, out of view. “Maybe later,” he said. “If Sasha agrees.” He smiled and nodded at her.
“You must be Trevor,” said Sasha.
Trevor’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
Sasha smiled. “Bonita gave me a brief description of all of you: brief”—she looked him up and down, slowly undressing him with her eyes—“but quite accurate.”
I stole a glance of Bonita. In the shade, it was difficult to see if she was blushing. I decided to file her “brief descriptions of us” in with the other questions I’d ask at the opportune moment.
Sasha and Bonita were engrossed in their own conversation while we guys talked amongst ourselves. Occasionally, Sasha would try to bridge the divide by mentioning some fact or tidbit about the region to all of us.
“I originally came to Iceland to conduct research on a new biofuel,” said Sasha. “Iceland is the world leader in renewable energy. I was blown away by the things being done here.”
I knew nothing about renewable energy, and I was nervous that I would soon be left out of the conversation. “Iceland is beautiful but quite remote,” I said. “I don’t know if I could live here. Don’t you miss the big city? Do you miss New York?”