"It was easier than easy. These men had had a bad teacher." Conan picked up a bottle of whiskey and handed it to a friend.
Steven unscrewed the cork with trembling fingers and, without taking it away from his mouth, emptied a good third of the contents. "Uh, I feel better!" he burped, glancing at Conan.
"You'll feel even better once you've got this here," Callan's father handed Steven the envelope.
Steven opened it.
"Money? You don't need to do that," he said, giving with the envelope back. "Callan is my friend and I helped because of that. I would never do that for money."
"You'll give me pleasure if you accept it," Conan declared. "It's going to be proof that you're not holding a grudge against me and you're still my friend."
Steven reluctantly tucked the envelope into his pocket. Callan's father offered to take him home and the two left.
By the time Claire arrived shortly before nine, Conan had already managed to take a bath and was currently having breakfast together with his parents.
"Sit down," he invited the girl. "We'll eat and then drive to the cottage right away."
"But, Claire," Callan's mother wondered. "Are you going to go to the cottage in such an attire? We were going to go skiing!"
The girl lowered her eyes and blushed. She was dressed in a thin, short dress, which in the skirt part consisted of tulle and lace. On the legs thin tights and boots up to the ankles. Brown, heavy wool coat.
"I told my mama that I was taking a two-day tour of the restored castle in the south with the class," Claire almost cried.
Callan's father laughed. Conan hugged the girl's shoulders.
"It doesn't matter, whether we're skiing or not, the main thing is you're here," he kissed Claire and she smiled. Conan then helped Claire take off her coat, poured coffee and put a good portion of dried ham adorned with banana slices on her plate – a dish that Conan was particularly fond of.
Callan's mother stood up. "I don't want to insult you, Claire," she said kindly. "I'll go look for some of my jeans for you, there should be another sweater and a parka. Your clothes are very nice, but not really suitable for skiing."
Claire left to get dressed. Rose packed up everything they needed for the road, John drove the car out of the garage, Conan finished breakfast. They were ready to go.
Callan's parents' cottage was in a remote place and wasn't too big. The sea was almost next to it. The building itself was built of wood, with a wide porch and a particularly fine slate roof. Next to a residential building, a sauna in the traditional style and a pond where a decade ago Callan used to swim plastic swans tied in a string. The driveway was thoroughly cleared, the light was burning in windows.
"It seems like there's someone here," Claire wondered.
"I called the manager that we were going to be here. Can't leave the house without a caretaker," Callan's father explained.
As soon as the car approached, a man of small stature appeared in the doorway and rushed toward the commuters as quickly as he could.
"Please, gentlemen," he shook Callan's father's hand. "Everything is already prepared, the heating is on, the fireplace and the sauna are kindled, lunch is prepared by my wife. It's not going to be as flattering as you're used to in the big city, but there's still something special – I got fresh cod, as long as my hand," he reached out his hand to demonstrate how tall the fish was. "My wife knows how to cook it in such a way that the tongue can be swallowed. Fry in butter, boiled in egg and flour, still sautéed in milk – and you, gentlemen, will see, no great goodies of the city stand by!"