The Sugar Queen (16 page)

"Well, this is interesting," Della Lee said. "What does he want?"

"To make a snowman. To make a snowman at . . ." She automatically looked at her digital clock, then remembered the power was out. "I don't even know what time it is."

Josey was wearing pajamas, so she fumbled around in the darkness until she found her snow boots and a sweater. Then she put on her long black coat and grabbed a wool cap and gloves on her way out.

"Have fun. Use condoms!" Della Lee called after her.

As soon as Josey reached the downstairs landing, Helena stepped out of her room. She was holding an industrial-sized flashlight, which she'd bought along with Mace and a personal emergency alarm after Wade Beasley had been arrested for murdering his housekeeper earlier in the year. Spells and superstitions were all well and good, but even Helena saw that a good defense sometimes involved a ten-pound flashlight too.

"It's just me," Josey said, shielding her eyes from the light. "I'm going outside for a minute."

Helena lowered the flashlight. "The mail here."

"I know."

"Oldsey like mail."

"Yes," Josey said. "I do."

Helena smiled and shut her bedroom door.

Josey went to the front door, then stepped outside onto the porch. Adam was waiting there for her. Waiting for 
her.
 This made no sense. She closed the door behind her and crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you drunk?"

"No."

She looked out to the street. There were no tire tracks in the snow. It was like he'd dropped from the moon. "How did you get here?"

"I drove. I have four-wheel. But I had to park at the bottom of the hill and walk the rest of the way."

"And you couldn't make a snowman in your neighborhood because?"

"Because you weren't there."

Words left her.

"You told me today you've never made a snowman. I want to teach you."

"Oh." He was feeling sorry for her again. ""Well, I'm sorry you had to come all this way, but we can't do this here," she said, taking a step back to the door.

"Why not?"

"Because it's against neighborhood rules."

"Who's going to know it was us?" He turned. "Come

on."

"What about your leg?" she asked. He was struggling a little with it as he walked down the steps.

"To hell with my leg." He got to the bottom step and looked up at her. He was wearing a yellow Thinsulate jacket, black gloves and a black beret, the kind with a toggle in the back. She'd loved this man for three years, but she knew so little about him. She'd been too afraid to ask him about his injury, to ask him anything personal, because then he might suspect how she felt. But now that he knew how she felt about him, what was the harm in asking?

"How did you hurt it?"

He nodded to the yard. "Come make a snowman with me and I'll tell you."

"I don't want to know that badly."

"Yes, you do." He held his hand out to her.

So what if this made her pitiful? So what if her desire to be with him overruled her pride? This was Adam holding his hand out to her. Of course she was going to take it. Just for tonight. Because when would it ever happen again?

Snowman 101 included instructions on first finding the perfect place to build, preferably as close to the street as possible so everyone could see your creation. Then there was the art of packing a firm snowball, putting it in the snow, and then rolling it around the yard in a wide circle, letting it pick up snow and grow. This, he said, you did three times. The bottom was the biggest ball, the middle was medium, and the top was the smallest.

Adam made it look easy. She kept trying, but her snowballs all fell apart when she tried to roll them.

"You're pressing too hard," Adam said.

"I am not. I just want a small snowman."

When he laughed at her, she picked up her pitiful snowman ball and threw it at him.

He straightened slowly. "The young apprentice has provoked the master."

Josey started to run, to take cover behind the stringy forsythia bushes, but his snowball hit her in the back. She made an indignant sound and stopped. This was war.

He had better aim than her, but that didn't matter once she got close enough to pelt him. She hit her target several times, once even in the face, she was proud to say. Unfor - tunately, she was close enough now for him to grab her by the arm, then drop a handful of snow down the front of her sweater. She shrieked, slipped, then suddenly fell back into the snow, taking him with her. He was halfway on top of her, his hands in the snow on either side of her shoulders. She clutched one hand to her wet sweater and put the other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. It was a wonder they hadn't woken up the whole neighborhood by now.

She threw her head back and laughed so hard her eyes filled with tears and she had to squeeze them shut. Tears popped out and fell down her temples, warm against her cold skin. God, when had she had a better time? Letting go felt so good. When she was finally able to catch her breath, she opened her eyes and saw that Adam was staring down at her with the most serious look on his face. She moved her hand away from her mouth, her laughter dying. His eyes went to her lips and lingered there a moment.

Then he suddenly rolled off of her and got to his feet.

"I hurt my leg skiing on Bald Slope Mountain," he said, extending a hand to her.

She sat up, dazed. 
What just happened here?
 She looked up at him, then took his hand. He pulled her to her feet. "It must have been a bad fall."

"It was. No more skiing for me. No more skiing, no more sailing, no more cliff diving, no more mountain climbing. No more travel."

It all sounded so wonderful, so exotic. "You used to do all those things?"

"Yes." He turned and walked to his snowman-in- progress.

She quickly followed. "Why don't you anymore? Are you not able?"

"I don't know. I haven't tried." He shrugged. "It was time to settle down."

"Did you like traveling?"

"I loved it. Here, help me lift this middle ball onto the bottom one."

She walked over to him and together they lifted the big snowball. "So you haven't left Bald Slope at all since your accident."

"Maybe sometime in the future I'll go see my brother in Chicago. See some old friends there. I'm not ready yet." He started making the last ball.

"I didn't know you lived in Chicago."

He smiled as he rolled the ball around, making it bigger. "We think we know each other, but we really don't, do we? I was a lawyer in Chicago. Before the accident."

Her brows rose. Adam was a lawyer? This was like 
candy.
 "Did the accident make you give up the law?"

"No. I gave it up because I hated it." When he got the head of the snowman the right size, he picked it up and walked back to the body. His limp was getting worse the longer he was out there.

"Why didn't you give it up before the accident?"

"I don't know," he said, setting the head on top with a plop. "I guess almost dying makes you reevaluate things."

She couldn't speak for a moment. "You almost died?" she finally said softly.

"It was the first time I was ever hurt. Broken femur. Broken back. Internal injuries. Lost my spleen." He said it mechanically, hiding the emotion.

She watched as he went to the forsythia bushes and snapped off two bare branches. She looked at him carefully in the moonlight, and it was like a door had finally opened and she could see inside. "You're afraid to leave, aren't you?" she said. "It happened and you're afraid it's going to happen again if you do . . . anything." He'd stopped moving for a moment, not looking at her. "That's your secret."

"I'm staying still. There's nothing wrong with that," he finally said. He stuck the forsythia branches into the sides of the middle ball, then stepped back and reviewed his work.

Josey felt strange, like there was a shifting in the universe somewhere. She suddenly felt like there wasn't more going out of her than there was coming in anymore. She followed the light shining on him through the snow-laden trees, across the sky and to the moon. She stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. The wonder, the mystery, the cool white brightness of it.

It took her breath away.

Chloe rolled over
 onto her side on the bed in the Cramdons' guest room and looked through the window at the same moon at the same time, and felt exactly the same shift.

She stuck her arm under the pillow to snuggle it to her. But then she paused. There was something under there.

She sat up and brought out a book.

The Complete Homeowner's Guide.

She put her head back on the pillow, staring at the book. Finally, a book that didn't have anything to do with her love life. It felt like a reward. She brought it to her, wrapping her arms around it, and looked back out into the cold, silent night.

Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Candy Hearts

Margaret barreled into
Josey's bedroom Thanksgiving morning. "There's a snowman in our front yard!" she said, as if locusts weren't far behind.

Josey sat up in bed, s leep-tousled and stiff from the snow. She looked over to her closet to make sure the door was closed.

Margaret walked to Josey's window. "Look!"

Josey got out of bed and joined her mother at the window. The neighborhood was pristine, the snow evenly coating everything . . . except their front yard. It was a mess, the snow pockmarked by footprints and in great uneven mounds, then there was the gelatinous snowman, which looked like it had been sprayed from a can of Reddi-wip.

With Adam's blue scarf wrapped around its neck.

Josey pinched her lips together to keep from smiling.

He must have done that after she'd gone back inside.

"Do you know anything about this?" Margaret asked suspiciously.

"I've never made a snowman before. That one looks like it was made by someone who knew what he was doing."

"Who would do such a thing to us? Call our lawn man," Margaret said as she walked away. "Tell him to come over and smooth our snow."

Josey had no idea what to say to that. Smooth our snow?

Margaret stopped in the doorway suddenly when a chirping sound came from somewhere inside the room. Josey felt a jab of dread and slid her eyes to her purse.

"What is that?" Margaret asked, looking around, probably expecting locusts. "What is that sound?"

Josey went to her purse. "It's, um, the cell phone ring
ⁱⁿ
g." „

"You gave out the number? To whom?"

"Her name is Chloe Finley and she's my friend," Josey said, bringing out the phone. She knew Margaret would have found out sooner or later, she was just hoping for later. At least until yesterday's left-at-the-salon incident had blown over.

Margaret's face grew tight
"Finley? That's
who you've been seeing? Who told you about her?"

"What are you talking about? Told me what?"

"Nothing." Margaret turned with her cane and left quickly.

Josey answered the phone, watching her mother leave. "Hello?"

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Chloe said, sounding better than she had in all the time Josey had known her. "Josey, you're never going to believe this. I'm going to buy a house! I'm going to buy the house on Summertime Road!"

Josey rubbed her eyes with one hand. "What? Really? How?"

"I met the owners yesterday. Actually, I had to spend the night here because of the snow. Long story. Anyway, they had just decided to lower the price on the house. And they agreed to sell it to me!"

Josey dropped her hand and laughed. "Oh, Chloe, that's fabulous!"

"I have so much to do. My mind is spinning."

"If you need any help, I'm here for you."

"Thank you. But I can do this on my own. I have great credit and I've been putting money into savings for a long time, and now I won't have to pay for that storage rental anymore!"

"Good for you, Chloe. Good for you."

"I'll talk to you soon."

"Congratulations," Josey said as Chloe hung up.

"What was that all about?" Della Lee called.

Josey went to the closet and opened the door. "Chloe is buying a house."

Della Lee was wearing the sweater and snow boots Josey had worn outside last night. "It's nice that you offered to help her."

"I like her," Josey said, taking a dress off its hanger. "And take off my clothes."

"You two stick together, okay?"

"Why? What do you mean?"

Della Lee shrugged. "Nothing."

Josey sighed and turned away. Again with the nothing.

Two days later,
on Saturday, Chloe called again and wanted to give Josey a tour of the house on Summertime Road. Josey agreed to meet her there that afternoon, glad to get out of the house. Margaret was emitting a low, constant level of vexation, making the air around her hum and crackle. And Josey had avoided Adam both Friday and Saturday when he'd been by with the mail, which seemed to make the days even longer.

At one point on Friday she'd been in her room, reading on her bed, when she felt him getting closer. She got up and went to her window. Margaret had gotten so worked up over the snowman that she had insisted their yard man leave his Thanksgiving dinner and come over Thursday to knock it down. Adam stopped in front of the house and smiled and shook his head when he saw that it was gone. Then he headed up the walk to the house.

Instead of going to see him, she went back to her bed.

"What's wrong?" Della Lee asked from the closet.

Josey stuffed another pillow behind her head and picked up the book, one of the romances Chloe had loaned her. "Nothing."

"Why did you go to your window?"

"No reason."

"Your mailman is here, isn't he? Why aren't you going to see him? I thought you two had a good time in the snow the other night. Is there something you're not telling me? Did he do something to you? I'll kick his ass!" Josey saw a shoe come flying out of her closet.

She got up and retrieved the shoe Della Lee had thrown, amused that Della Lee would get so mad on her behalf. She brought the shoe back to the closet. "He didn't do anything to me."

"Then why aren't you going to see him?"

Josey set the shoe down. "I don't feel like finding out which Adam is out there today—the one who likes things the way they are, or the one who came to my window to make a snowman."

Della Lee suddenly smiled. She had a pretty smile, with her slightly crooked front teeth. "You're tipping the balance of power. You're making him curious, curious enough to come to you. Good call."

Josey rolled her eyes and went back to her bed. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Maybe not on purpose. But it's something
I
would do. I think I'm wearing off on you. I think I'm in your head."

Needless to say, Josey was more than ready Saturday to get away for a little while. Snowplows had cleared the roads and there was a lot of traffic as Josey headed out to see Chloe's new house. Vacationers from the ski resort and holiday shoppers from all around had descended on downtown businesses. The Christmas season was officially under way, transforming Bald Slope into a snowy picture-postcard paradise.

It was Marco Cirrini's dream come true, every winter.

The Cramdons were happy to let Chloe show Josey around. They were very fond of Chloe. And, judging by the amount of books they owned, it was clear Chloe had found her lost tribe. Chloe loved everything about each room. She told Josey about what pieces of her great-grandparents' furniture would go where, sometimes stopping herself when she mentioned something she remembered belonged to Jake. Josey understood that it was Jake Chloe wanted to be showing this to, not her. She hoped Adam had gotten some information from Jake about the other woman. He hadn't said anything about it the other night in the snow. She would have to talk to him soon about it.

The last stop was the kitchen, where George and Zelda were having coffee. Zelda poured cups for Josey and Chloe.

"I can tell why you're friends," Zelda said. She had sharp, intelligent eyes, like she knew more than she would say. "The two of you even look alike."

Josey and Chloe looked at each other, surprised. Josey was so used to her mother being offended when compared to Josey that she was startled when Chloe laughed and said, "Oh my gosh, it's true! We even have the same color eyes. And all this wild curly hair."

Something suddenly occurred to Josey.

No, it couldn't be.

Damn it, Della Lee,
Josey thought.

Chloe was chatting with the Cramdons and they said something about the backyard.

"Oh, the backyard!" Chloe said. "Josey, I want to show you the backyard."

Cups of coffee in hand, they went outside to the screened- in porch. The s now-covered backyard was large, large enough for a swimming pool, Chloe said, if she wanted one. But the Cramdons had gardened for years and the soil was good, so she might try her hand at that first.

"Did you know your father?" Josey suddenly blurted

out.

Chloe raised her eyebrows at the sudden change of subject. "No, actually. I have no idea who he is. His name isn't even on my birth certificate. My mom got pregnant with me when she was eighteen. Three days after I was born, she left town. I was raised by my great-grandparents."

"Have you ever tried to find out who he is?"

"No," Chloe said. "When I was young, I lived on fantasies of who he was. My favorite was that he was European royalty. I had a rock-star fantasy for a while too. He was from another planet in one daydream. But I realized long ago that if I really knew who he was, I'd only be disappointed. In my mind he's sorry he never got to know me. Not knowing me is one of his biggest regrets. Secretly, over the years, he's been watching out for me. And when my mom ran away, she ran to him. They're happy together. I don't want to know any differently." Chloe suddenly smiled, realizing she'd gone dreamy. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking of my dad."

"He was a great man."

Josey nodded absently.

"Girls," George said, sticking his head out the back door, "who's up for leftover pie?"

"You wanted me
to ask Mr. Lamar about the other woman my father paid off. You think it's Chloe's mother, don't you?" Josey demanded when she finally got home late that afternoon and went straight upstairs to Della Lee in the closet. She was slightly out of breath, not from the dash to her room, but from the panic of how fast Della Lee's influence was growing in her life. "You think Chloe is another one of his daughters. The first day you were here, you mentioned her by name. You kept sending me to her for sandwiches you never ate."

"Well, that took you long enough. What are you, blind?" Della Lee said, looking up from her collage. Today her blond hair was tied back into a ponytail with a pair of tights Josey had taken from her house. "But Chloe doesn't know. Her mother took off with the money Marco gave her. It's all in my mother's notebooks. She documented their entire affair."

Della Lee had grown up with this. She'd been told this all her life, so of course she believed it. But the depth and detail, her complete confidence in something so wholly improbable, was getting under Josey's skin. She was getting
in her
head,
just like Della Lee said. "Della Lee, don't take this the wrong way, but I think you might need professional help. I can help you. I can pay. Think about this—you're wearing a pair of pantyhose in your hair. Is that normal?"

Della Lee snorted. "Oh, don't give me that. You're starting to doubt yourself. You see how all three of us have his eyes. You see how Chloe's hair is as crazy-curly as yours. You're starting to believe me, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not," Josey said firmly.

"You're saying you haven't even considered the
possibility
that your father
might
have had other children?"

"My father was a great man."

"That's what everyone says. I wonder how many people who actually knew him believe that."

"I believe it."

"Do you? Do you really? Do you really believe that the man you knew was all there was to him? You don't think there was something else?"

That reminded her of Adam. Not that she thought Adam and her father were anything alike, but what she'd found out about Adam, what she never even suspected . . . could her father have had secrets too? Josey hesitated before saying, "You think my mother paid off your mother, that my mother knew about you. Do you think she knew about Chloe too? I mean in your fantasy. Not that I'm saying it's real."

"I'm sure Margaret knew about all of Marco's affairs."

Could that be why her mother had such a reaction to Chloe's name?

No, she thought as she walked away, she wasn't going to go there.

Mr. Lamar's letter was going to settle everything anyway.

"So you don't
want to go?" Adam asked the Sunday after Thanksgiving, waving the invitation as if that might make it more enticing.

Jake was sitting on the couch in Adam's living room, flipping through the television channels with the remote. "While going to the retirement party for your postal supervisor sounds like loads of fun, a bunch of us at work will be staying late Monday night. We're ordering takeout."

"You're a lousy date anyway." Adam tossed the invitation on the coffee table and sat beside Jake. It wasn't like anyone expected him to bring someone to these functions. He'd known about it for weeks. He'd also known Jake wouldn't want to go. So why was he staring at the invitation instead of watching the television?

Because of Josey.

She was still avoiding him. He knew he had told her he liked the way things were, but that was before Wednesday night. She had somehow reached into him and seen exactly what he was trying to hide. He wasn't here because he wanted to settle down. He missed his old life. He missed it so much that sometimes his body would shudder, as if fighting with his mind to put him in motion again. He'd felt it Wednesday night, that pull, when he was looking down into Josey's face. It would have been so easy to kiss her. But he'd backed away instead. Was that the reason she wouldn't come to her door now? Was she disappointed in him?

"I think I'll ask Josey Cirrini to the party," he suddenly

said.

Jake muted the television and turned to him.

"I like her."

Jake just stared at him, uncomprehending, as if Adam had suddenly started speaking Swahili.

Adam shook his head and got up and walked to the kitchen. After a moment, he heard Jake get up and follow him. Adam opened the fridge and handed Jake a beer, then took one for himself.

Jake was quiet as he opened his bottle and took a long drink. "Okay," he finally said, "now that the shock has worn off . . .
What?"

"She's nice."

"Well, yes, I guess she is. She sent me a card my first week at the DA's office, saying congratulations on my new job. And she was the first person to send my mother flowers in the hospital when she had her hysterectomy. But you know what my mother said? 'I can't believe
she
sent me flowers.' Yes, my nice little mother said that. Apparently, when Josey was a little girl, she kicked my mother in the shin when my mother saw her eating candy in the grocery store and my mother told her she should probably pay for it first. She left a scar."