He started writing the first letter only two hours after Hank had left. Business might keep him at Shadow Pond, but that didn´t mean he would let his beautiful doctor forget him. He made sure the letter arrived at Miss Newburg´s Aspen chalet before Hank did. It would be waiting for him on a silver tray when he got there. Of course, Hank´s very special new mother-in-law had extended her invitation towards him as well. And it had genuinely saddened him that he had to decline. Nevertheless, business, as usual, had to come first. So the Lawsons´ had vacated the guest house and Shadow Pond in favor of a month in the Colorado snow together with half the Hamptons´ usual inhabitants. There were certain places in the world where one always met the same people. It was the Hamptons in summer and Aspen in winter. Although skiing wasn´t the people´s main reason for going there. For Boris it would have been. He loved skiing. Always had. He had gone skiing all his life. At home with his parents and later at school in Geneva as well. Even the prospect of being a mere guest in the house of Mr and Mrs Eddie R. Lawson hadn´t appalled him enough to turn down the offer. But this business had simply been too important and rather unexpected. So he had been forced to miss out on the Lawsons´ much awaited first family vacation for over 25 years.
Boris finished the letter and set down his quill. It took some practice to write like this without leaving splotches all over the paper and nasty ink stains on his long elegant fingers. But Boris had had years of practice. His handwriting was beautiful in itself, although he usually used a fountain pen instead of a calligraphy quill. But now the letter looked more like a piece of art and Boris was pleased. He smiled at himself and heated the wax for the seal. Should there be any doubt about who had sent this letter to his Hank, the seal would speak a very clear language. An up rearing stag in green wax needed no further signature. He folded and sealed the letter and rang for Udo to have it send safely on its way. His faithful new servant had come to know his master quite well and would need no further instructions.
So Boris could lean back in his chair with a deep sight and stare off into the flames in the fireplace closest to his desk. He imagined Hank doing just the same all those hundreds of miles away after reading his letter. He would see to it that one letter would be delivered to Hank every day that business would keep them apart. He would adjust his tight schedule so that there would always be room for writing. Boris put away the quill and ink, the sealing wax and his family seal and reopened his laptop. He had stayed behind for business and business better made it worthwhile for him. Until tomorrow when there would be an hour of privacy again for him. One precious hour committed solely to his Hank. Boris allowed himself another smile. Tomorrow. Tomorrow …