"The coffeehouse is closed. But Grandma, we can't ignore our problems or be embarrassed by them. Elliott helped me make a spreadsheet and we've got a lot of debt to pay, so I'm going to take advantage of the Solstice crowds. We're going to make some money. It's going to be great." Why did I feel so excited and giddy? I was risking our last few dollars, but risk feeds the entrepreneur's soul. Risk makes you feel like you've had way too much coffee and are waiting at the very top of a roller coaster, just before the plunge. I liked the feeling.
Each time the front door opened, I expected to see Malcolm. But he stayed away. I wished he'd join us, and I whispered his name when no one could hear me.
On Thursday afternoon, after talking to a local travel agent who wanted to book some Ratcatcher tours, we got the best news of all. Elliott's dad got the rat. Don't ask me how he did it, but he's some kind of attorney god. The taxidermist agreed to stuff it and deliver it Friday morning. I asked him to stand the creature on its hind legs so it would be tall enough for photos. Ingvar and Irmgaard created a pedestal out of an old stool and some red fabric. Ralph suspended a "World's Largest Rat" sign from the ceiling. On the other side of the emporium, Elizabeth and Elliott painted an old wooden chair to look like a throne. Odin hung a "World's Most Famous Cat" sign.
The throne was complete when Elizabeth added a velvet pillow from her bed.
On Thursday night, we gathered upstairs to eat Irmgaard's corn chowder. Sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by friends, I felt happier than I had in a long time.
Tomorrow would be an exciting day. I went over everyone's duties, then stood and raised my water glass in a heartfelt toast. "Here's to all of you," I said, feeling suddenly shy as everyone looked at me. "I couldn't have done this alone."
"Don't underestimate yourself," Lars said, his cane leaning against his chair. "You've got a good head on your shoulders."
"If your grandfather were here, he'd be real proud," Ingvar said.
"Thank you." I raised the glass higher. "Here's to old friends, and to new ones." I nodded at Elliott. He sat next to Elizabeth. Funny, but during the past few days, she hadn't mentioned Face at all.
Ratcatcher jumped onto the table and licked my empty chowder bowl. "And here's to Ratcatcher, the World's Most Famous Cat."
"To Ratcatcher," everyone cried. Ratcatcher thought we were yelling at her, so she jumped off the table.
As the meal wound down, I wandered over to the living room window. The Solstice Festival was most fun when it snowed, but not a cloud hung in the star-filled sky. No angel wandered down the street. No best friend rode past on his bike. Happiness is sweetest when shared, my grandmother liked to say. Vincent had always been a part of my happiest memories.
I remembered the word that had floated on Irmgaard's message. Live. How many of us need to be reminded that living has nothing to do with trying to be as good as someone else, or trying to fit into some category, or filling in the blanks on some stupid checklist. That it has nothing to do with punishing yourself for past mistakes.
I was stupid to stay mad at Vincent. Who cared if he had gone inside Java Heaven to make snowflakes? Who cared if he had held some stupid cup on TV? The law that I had imposed on my friends, Thou shalt never, ever partake of Java Heaven coffee, wasn't important anymore. We were moving forward. I was moving forward.
I picked up the phone to call him. But he didn't answer.
Thirty-two
Friday morning might have felt like any other winter morning in Nordby, except for one thing--the Solstice Festival had arrived.
Winter solstice is the time when the sun's position is at its greatest angular distance on the other side of the equatorial plane, meaning it's the shortest day and longest night of the year. Cultures all over the world used to pay homage to this day, but not so much anymore, making way for religious holidays. But in our little corner of the world, though Christmas and Hanukkah were still a big deal, we kept up the Old World traditions. Even the Suquamish tribe added their tradition by baking salmon on cedar planks. Like Nordby itself, the Solstice Festival was a hodgepodge of cultures old and new. Though Ratcatcher and her giant stuffed rat had nothing to do with the old traditions, I was pretty sure that they'd be welcomed with open arms.
Ratcatcher's Emporium officially opened at 9:00 a.m. The taxidermist wheeled in the rat on a hand truck. Its glass eyes and glossy black hair gave me the creeps.
Ratcatcher slept on her throne. Irmgaard stood ready behind the cash register. Elliott, digital camera in hand, stood next to the rat. Elizabeth fiddled with a display of Ratcatcher key chains. Elizabeth had never worked before, not even as a babysitter.
Working was a big deal for her. Working was a normal deal for me. Except that everything was riding on that particular working day. Everything.
"Where is everyone?" Elizabeth asked. She had painted whiskers on her face and wore one of our rat-ear headbands.
I paced next to the door. I went outside and looked down the street. Orange cones blocked each end, making Main Street pedestrian-only. Foam snowflakes twinkled with morning dew. White lights beckoned from every doorway and window--even ours. A few people with laptops entered Java Heaven. A couple of kids ran around the giant blue spruce. "It's still early," I said, trying to hide the fear in my voice. I had expected a line. Not just any line, a line that would go down in Nordby history. So many people had called. So many e-mails had been sent. I had advertised in the paper.
The Boys had handed out flyers with little coupons for 10 percent off a photo with Ratcatcher. Maybe I should have gotten a billboard.
Nervous energy burrowed in my stomach. What had I done? I had spent our last penny, literally. I looked around the transformed coffeehouse. What would we do with all the stuff if no one bought it? There wasn't enough room in the Closet of Failure. Entrepreneur, what a joke. Mr. Prince's stupid aptitude test was a scam. My nervous energy turned to nausea. I went back inside. Ratcatcher, sensing my fear, pawed at my ankles. I picked her up and buried my nose in her black-and-white neck.
"Where are they?" I whispered. She purred.
"Hello? We hear you got the rat." A Japanese woman stood in the doorway. Behind her stood the same group of tourists from a few days before. "We try to get here, but giant coffee cup sign fall down and block road. Now all clear."
"Come on in," I said, a big smile bursting out. "The rat's over here." They came in.
They laughed and petted the rat. They posed for photos, then bought seven coffee cups, twelve sets of sticky notes, and twenty tins of Ratcatcher Breath Mints.
And things just got better and better and better.
By the time Lars hobbled down the street with his fancy cane, the line stretched right up to Java Heaven's front door, which was about the best thing ever. "Move that line,"
Mr. Darling bellowed, storming into our crowded shop.
"Why?" I asked. It's so nice when a person doesn't scare you anymore. When you can look right into a face that used to intimidate you and say, "What's your problem?"
"Your line is my problem. It's blocking my customers."
"I seem to recall that your line blocked Anna's customers last year," Ingvar said.
Mr. Darling folded his arms. "I don't know what you're talking about." He sneered at me. "I think those old men are purposefully turning the line toward my door."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. Ralph and Odin waved through the picture window. My grandmother would be so proud.
"We'll see about this. I'm calling Officer Larsen."
Mr. Darling knocked over a display of Ratcatcher water bottles on his way out.
I didn't worry about Mr. Darling. Turned out, Elizabeth was really good at pushing merchandise. And Elliott, between bouts of picture taking, kept a running tab on the receipts, filling me in on the good news as the day went on. "He's really smart,"
Elizabeth said, when Elliott took a bathroom break. "If he got contacts, he'd be real cute. I'm thinking about asking him to a mov
ie or something. Do you think that's weird?"
"I think that's a great idea."
Lots of Nordby High students came in, including Face and his country club herd. I thought Elizabeth would hide upstairs, but she walked right up to him, in front of his friends, and said, "Hello. Can I help you?"
"Oh." He smiled uncomfortably. "Hi, Elizabeth."
"I thought you couldn't come to the festival because you had something else to do."
"Yeah. I'm leaving for Tahoe with my family in an hour. So I can't go to the feast or the dance."
"Tahoe," she said after he had left. "It wasn't because I'm too fat. He's going to Tahoe." She laughed. "I don't know what I saw in him in the first place. He's waaaaaay too conservative."
At four o'clock it began to snow--big fat flakes that quickly covered the sidewalk and street. The Solstice crowd had grown each hour. More Nordby High students came into the Emporium. It didn't bother me one bit that some of them carried Vincent Mochas. The first group of carolers strolled by in their Victorian costumes. Kids ran past carrying their peanut-butter-and-birdseed-stuffed pinecones. Elizabeth and Elliott took a break and wandered off to see how the tree decorating was going. When they came back, they brought a bag of warm scones with loganberry jam that a Girl Scout troop was selling. Between working the cash register and answering the phone, I barely had time to think about anything else.
Until he walked through the door.
He was dressed in full Highland regalia, with a red and green plaid kilt and a black jacket with gold buttons, like a character from a movie. I was dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and an Emporium apron, like a girl from a shop. Hypnotized, I walked straight into Elizabeth.
"Wow. You look great," Elizabeth told him. "Where can I get a jacket like that?"
"It's formal wear," he said proudly. "I tried a tuxedo, but I think this suits me better."
It did. He looked amazing. Did I have any makeup on? When had I last brushed my hair?
He pushed back his long hair. The copper strands glowed like filaments. "I'm here to escort you to the grand feast."
I tried to act nonchalant. "Oh, I almost forgot about that." I looked at the clock. The grand feast at the Sons of Norway would start in half an hour. The store was still full of customers. "I should stay and help--"
"Oh no you won't." Elizabeth pushed me into the kitchen. Irmgaard followed. "You've got a date and you're going on that date."
"But the shop--"
"We can take care of it," Irmgaard said softly.
Malcolm posed for a photo with a group of old ladies and Ratcatcher. His jacket buttons sparkled. Every light in the room seemed drawn to him.
"You've got a date with an angel," Elizabeth said. "For God's sake, Katrina, what are you going to do? Reject an angel?"
I smiled. "I'll be right back."
Thirty-three
You'd have to be some kind of idiot to turn down a date with an angel. I flew around my bedroom like a human hurricane. Put on dress, put on shoes, brush hair, brush teeth, put on makeup, check underarms, check for visible panty lines, turn around a hundred times in the mirror and check to see what butt looks like. It looked pretty good. But what did it matter? He was an angel.
I put on so much lipstick that I looked like a clown. My hand trembled as I wiped some off. Calm down. It's just dinner and maybe a little bit of dancing. And then he'd go off to some other place, to deliver another message, and I'd never see him again.
Still, the date counted. I was going out with a guy who wasn't my best friend, so it totally counted.
I took one more turn at the mirror. The final product was not half-bad. The dress fit perfectly and my hair graciously formed a few waves. Walking downstairs, I felt like Cinderella transformed. I hope that every girl can have a moment like that, when she gets to dress up and all eyes are on her.
Odin whistled. "Look what we got here."
"Katrina, you're a sight for sore eyes," Lars said.
"What a beauty," Ralph said.
Ingvar plucked his pipe from his mouth. "Our little girl is growing up."
Then The Boys turned their attention to Malcolm. "What time are you bringing her back?"
"Don't keep her out too late."
"Don't you be doing any drinking."
"Why are you still wearing a skirt?"
"Okay, stop it," I scolded. "You guys are totally embarrassing me." But I appreciated the attention, just the same. When you don't have a grandfather or a father or even a brother, it's good to know someone's looking out for you.
One of the nice things about walking with Malcolm was that I didn't need to wear a coat or boots. Sure, it was snowing outside, and the longest night of the year had already begun, but the minute he took my hand, warmth flooded my entire body.
"Bye," everyone called.
He led me out the door. He could have led me anywhere and I would have followed.
Even to that London sewer pipe. Maybe I'd complain a little bit about the sewer pipe, but I'd still follow.
Falling in love is not a rational process. It can't be planned or avoided. It happens--for good or bad it simply happens. I knew he'd eventually leave. I knew we couldn't be together, but I fell anyway. It wasn't just the magic or the good looks--though I'm not going to lie and say that those things didn't matter. They definitely bumped him way ahead of most other Nordby guys. But what also bumped him ahead was that he was kind and attentive. He was honest about his failures and worries. He seemed vulnerable and powerful at the same time. In the end, I would never be able to figure it out.
Trying to make sense of love is like trying to dissect a rainbow.
We walked down the crowded street, passing other couples dressed in their holiday clothes. Women of all ages smiled at Malcolm. The old me would have suspected that they were all thinking: "What's he doing with her?" But I felt pretty and...successful.
Of course he was with me.
"You look nice," Malcolm said, squeezing my hand. "You smell good too."
"Thanks." I looked down, to hide my blush. "So, where have you been?"
"Doing my job," he said.
"Where's your satchel?"
"I'm not on duty. Tonight, I'm all yours."
All mine. That really sounded weird. And nice.
Heidi Darling stood in the entryway of the Sons of Norway Hall. She looked really beautiful in a long peach gown. "Hi, Katrina," she said, not unkindly. Her gaze fixed on Malcolm.
"Hi," I said.
"That's a nice dress."
"Oh, thanks. Your dress is nice too."
"Are you two here together?" She raised her eyebrows.
"I'm escorting Katrina this evening," Malcolm said.
I looked around. Where was Vincent? I had hoped to see him and smooth things out.
"Tickets?" Heidi held out her hand, performing another one of her volunteer jobs.
Oh crap! The evening's momentum came to a screeching halt. I had forgotten to tell Malcolm that we needed tickets to get in. They sold out every year. My heart sank into my stomach. But Malcolm let go of my hand and reached into his coat. "Here you be," he said, handing over two white tickets.
Heidi tossed them into a basket. "Have fun," she said.
"Hello, Katrina." Officer Larsen blocked our entry to the hall. "Good to see your friend is feeling better. Have you sorted out the passport issue?"
"Yes," Malcolm said. "I'll be leaving tonight."
"I see." Officer Larsen relaxed and stepped aside. "Well, have a safe trip."
It would end tonight. I put on a brave face. Enjoy the evening, I told myself.
Remember every second of it.
Tables stood end to end, stretching the length of the Sons of Norway Hall. The waiter seated us near the musicians, a local quartet, which made it impossible to have a conversation, but I didn't really mind. I was totally focused on not spilling food on my dress. A butter lettuce salad with baby shrimp came first. I worried that I might get a green bit caught between my tee
th, so I just nibbled. Malcolm ate everything as if it was his last meal. Our last meal. Our date would end with a / wish you a long and healthy life, Katrina Svensen. I'd never see him again. I pushed the inevitable from my mind.
The main course was salmon, prepared by members of the Suquamish tribe. It came with roasted potatoes and green beans. I stopped worrying about my appearance and ate the whole thing. Risking every last cent of somebody else's money works up an appetite. Just as I ate my last bean, I noticed Heidi sitting a few tables down. A guy named Jordan sat next to her. Where was Vincent?
The quartet took a break while Nordby's mayor made a speech. "And we all owe a huge round of thanks to the Darling family and Java Heaven for sponsoring this year's festival." Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Heidi took a bow and Mr. Darling said, "Giving back to the community is what it's all about." Everyone applauded. I didn't even grimace at his hypocrisy because I was having so much fun sharing a heaping bowl of apple streudel with Malcolm.
The waiters stacked the chairs and pushed the tables against the walls to make room for dancing. The quartet came back. The overhead lights dimmed. Ropes of snowflakes, strung across the ceiling, sparkled with little white lights. The dance began with a slow song.
"Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" Malcolm asked.
"Yes."
YES! YES! YES!
I had avoided school dances ever since middle school, when I'd been the tallest girl and the only boys desperate enough to ask me were total sex maniacs who tried to press their faces into my chest. And the idea of standing in the corner at a high school dance, the tall girl, unwanted, never appealed to me. So I approached the dance floor anxiously. Did I even know how to slow dance? Malcolm took my hand, pressing his other hand against my back, and began to move easily, gracefully. I'm pleased to report that we didn't step on each other's feet. He didn't jab me with his knees or cling to me with sweaty hands. His body melted into mine in all the right spots. His shoulder just happened to be at the perfect height for me to rest my head. His scent made me drowsy.
"Katrina?"
"Hmmm?"
"I stopped in today to see your grandmother. She's looking better."
CoffeeHouse Angel Page 20
