Sugar

by Karin Kallmaker

  Hair tied back, and shirt tucked into the slacks, she wasn't dis¬pleased, however, with the way the buttery yellow worked with her eyes. She found dangling earrings of mottled purples and the color of her eyes seemed even more pronounced. But they were not Elizabeth Taylor's eyes, no matter what anyone said.

  "My, don't you look nice," Gran said. "That color is perfect for you."

  They're all in a conspiracy, Sugar thought. Noor, Gran, Emily—even Charlie. Yeah, but a conspiracy to do what, another part of her asked. A conspiracy to make you feel better about how you look? What's wrong with that?

  It wasn't true, she thought stubbornly. That's what was wrong with it. "I need to lose some weight."

  Gran peered at her over her reading glasses. "That's got noth¬ing to do with how nice you look. I personally think you're just right. So many girls are skin and bones these days."

  "Thank you, then."

  "That's better."

  "I'm trying for a positive attitude." Emily had certainly found her attractive enough on Saturday, she recalled. It was the low light, the sweater, the party glow. Couldn't be her, or anything like that.

  "Will you be late?"

  "I don't think so," Sugar said. "Tomorrow night I will be, I think. I might not get home until the next morning." Sugar gulped, not meaning to have announced that quite so baldly.

  "As long as you respect yourself," Gran said seriously, "you'll hear naught from me. Like I said, I can't get right with Jesus through other people. It's me I need to worry about, especially going under the knife."

  Sugar kissed her grandmother on the cheek as she said good¬bye. "I promise you I'll take a page from your book and worry about myself a little more, too."

  The Electric Bean was hopping, but not as crowded as it would be on a Friday or Saturday night. Sugar found a parking space easily. She slipped the strap of the denim bag she was using as a purse these days over her shoulder and got out of the car. She smoothed her shirt into her slacks again. For some reason she was finding it hard to breathe. This wasn't a date, and yet she was quite nervous, as if some new part of her was exposed. She was dressed up, for her. It felt good, but strange.

  She tried to look cool and collected as she calmly walked to the entrance, but as she stepped back to allow the people exiting some room she found herself face-to-face with Charlie.

  Well, given Charlie's height, it was more face-to-shoulder. Then she vividly remembered what Charlie's strong shoulder had felt like. "Oh," was all Sugar could find to say.

  "Hi." Charlie seemed likewise at a loss for words. "How are you?"

  They moved out of the doorway, and Sugar realized the cute, tall blonde standing next to Charlie hadn't moved on. She was with Charlie. Oh, she thought, well of course. Charlie was gorgeous and charming and witty. Of course she had a girlfriend.

  "I'm good," she finally managed. "I got your e-mail, but didn't have a chance to answer."

  "That's okay." Charlie was smiling and her eyes were doing that bedroom thing, which was simply not appropriate in front of other people. The light brown eyes suddenly darkened, however, as Charlie said, "Oh—you're meeting up with Tree. She's at a table in the back."

  "Yes, I am," Sugar agreed coolly.

  Charlie abruptly stepped back, putting one hand on the blonde's waist to escort her forward. "Have fun."

  "You, too," Sugar murmured, not sure at all if Charlie had heard her.

  Well, she fumed, so much for hero worship. She's out with one woman and trying to flirt with another. What kind of cad was she? Had testosterone ways rubbed off on her from all those macho firefighters? Sugar tossed her head and went inside, thoroughly annoyed.

  The dark, heady aroma of roasted coffee helped settle her nerves, and by the time she spotted Tree, in the back as Charlie had described, she was completely over the encounter. Charlie could boff a thousand women and it was nothing to her, she thought.

  Tree waved and Sugar found it easy to return her welcoming smile. "This was such a good idea."

  "Thank you, I thought so too. I did the asking, so what can I get

  you?" Tree craned her neck to peer at the dessert case. "I've got my eye on that slice of lemon cheesecake."

  Sugar looked over. "Oh, the fruit tarts look really nice. I love kiwi and strawberry."

  "One fruit tart it is—and to drink?"

  "Plain decaf coffee will be perfect." She watched heads turn to follow Tree's progress. She wore a simple pair of cropped pants and a casual sweater of soft hemp that threatened to slip off one shoulder. Though she was no taller than Sugar was, her body was lithe and slender, giving the impression of height. Sugar caught one guy turning from Tree to look speculatively at her, probably wondering what her relationship to the beautiful blonde was.

  She gave him her best "Roll your tongue back into your head, she's with me" look. Reality didn't really matter when it came to letting straight boys know two women could actually pass an evening without their intrusion. She was irked when he continued to stare as Tree returned to the table.

  "They'll call our number in a few minutes." Tree lightly touched Sugar's shoulder as she passed her. "So—even though I don't want to talk shop, how are you doing? Personally?"

  "Good, really. I did have a few nightmares, but I've been sleep¬ing well the past couple of nights. My grandmother and I have worked things out. I saw my sister—"

  "The lawyer?"

  Sugar was surprised Tree remembered. "Yeah. It's a relief to let her take care of things and think she might actually get paid for once. So, all in all, I'm doing really well." She thought it best not to mention that she was seeing Emily. Somehow she would lead gently into the topic of seeing someone else.

  "I'm really glad," Tree said quietly. "Not everyone is so fortu¬nate."

  "I know." There was an awkward silence during which Sugar realized she was staring at Tree's shoulder where her sweater was threatening to once again slip off. She didn't think she'd seen any-

  thing so sexy in her entire life. "I ran into our friendly neighbor¬hood firefighter on the way in."

  "Yes, I knew she was here with Devin."

  "I gather—not that either of you have actually said anything— that you have a rocky history of some kind."

  Tree shrugged, and her sweater did slip down, revealing an expanse of evenly tanned, bare shoulder. Sugar had to swallow hard. Honestly, her libido seemed to be in overdrive lately. "Charlie can be very stubborn, and persists in seeing accepting help as a weakness."

  Sugar could well imagine that. "And you're not?"

  "Stubborn? Oh, I am. Very. That's why we usually end up hiss¬ing at each other. But she's a good woman, and goddess knows she's seen some awful things in her work."

  "I imagine you've seen your share of both the best and worst in people, too."

  Tree's dark eyes were even more shadowed. "I have. Burnout is a hazard of the trade. I may go back to private practice for a while. That case—the man who set fire to his girlfriend and her kids?"

  Sugar shuddered. "Yes, I remember. That was horrible."

  Tree gazed at her nails for a moment. "I was the social worker on the scene. Not that I could do anything for the kids, of course. I had to work far too hard to do my job where he was concerned, and he was a victim of his own actions and other factors in his his¬tory, too."

  In cases like that, Sugar always found her reaction bloodthirsty. She hoped the bastard was killed in jail, and she hoped it hurt first. He deserved no mercy. She just wasn't that kind and gentle.

  Softly, she said, "I can see how that would take a lot out of you."

  Tree nodded, then rose as their number was called. She returned in a few moments with desserts and coffees. Sugar had spent the time wondering how old Tree was. Sometimes she seemed in her forties, other times no older than Sugar was. She'd seen a lot of awful things, of that Sugar was certain, but it didn't show in her face.

  ?

  They chatted about movies and Sugar's business, but Sugar never go
t the feeling that Tree was relaxing. She'd seemed almost vivacious when Sugar had arrived but the longer they talked, the quieter Tree became.

  As she finished her tart she was resigned to the fact that this would be the first and last time they got together. Okay, she was a little hurt when she ought to be relieved. She didn't have enough room in her life for one woman, let alone two. Charlie no longer counted, she told herself.

  Tree leaned toward her and said in a low voice, "I'm sorry, I'm being bad company. But I would really like to leave."

  Startled, Sugar nodded. "I understand. Thank you for—"

  "That's not what I meant. I'll explain outside, if you're ready to go."

  "Of course. Is something wrong?"

  Tree nodded, but added a reassuring, "Not yet."

  As they left Sugar noticed the same guy as before watching Tree. Jerk, she thought. If he'd even glanced at her she'd have given him her best evil eye.

  "Thank you," Tree said immediately. "There was someone in there who was trying to figure out where he knew me from."

  "Oh—the guy in the orange shirt? He was staring."

  Tree fished for her keys. "Yes, well, last time he saw me I had my hair back in a repressive bun and was wearing a plain black suit, testifying in court about my firm belief that he was unfit to see his kids. Sooner or later he was going to remember and the violent streak that I'm quite certain he still has was going to erupt."

  "That must be such a scary feeling." Sugar could hardly imag¬ine what it must be like to bump into people who might well blame you for ruining their lives.

  "It is." She paused a moment, car keys in her hand. "I've seen his handiwork."

  "I'm sorry you had to run into him."

  Tree smiled wanly. "I'm sorry our date had to end this way."

  "It doesn't have to end," Sugar said. Tree was obviously so

  down, and Sugar didn't want to abandon her. Even though it was her job, Tree had been there for her when she'd needed it. She was gentle and sweet, both a good listener and good talker. "We could walk through the shops."

  "Or we could—" Tree looked as if she wanted to call back the words.

  "We could what?" Sugar didn't think Tree was about to propo¬sition her, so she was surprised at Tree's next words.

  "Go back to my place." Tree grinned. "I realized how that would sound. I was actually thinking that a soak in the hot tub sounded good. We'll likely be chaperoned by somebody or other— it's the communal one at my apartment complex I'm offering."

  In spite of the grin, Sugar could sense that Tree needed to talk. She must listen all day to other people's problems. Sugar wondered if there was anyone who listened to hers. "That actually sounds good, but I don't have a swimsuit."

  "I've got a couple of spares. One will fit. Why don't you follow me?"

  Sugar agreed and a few minutes later followed Tree's taillights out of Redmond toward Bellevue. A relaxing soak in very hot water was sounding better and better.

  Tree's apartment was lightly scented with sandalwood, and hardwood floors were covered in woven rugs of brilliant, jungle hues. The dominant living room wall was a rich blue with white tangled lines that she realized were the branches of trees. It was spacious and airy for an apartment and clearly had two bedrooms, one being used as an office.

  Tree returned from the other bedroom with a red swimsuit in hand. "This should fit. Would you like a glass of wine or iced tea to take down with you?"

  "The tea sounds great, actually. Wine and hot tubs always makes me dizzy, not that I've a history of hot-tubbing."

  "I've found that if drunk slowly, a glass of red wine is really therapeutic."

  "I'll stick to chocolate." Sugar grinned, but Tree responded seriously.

  "That's a sound choice. Dark chocolate has flavonoids. It's heart-healthy, too. It just doesn't work well in a hot tub."

  "No, that would be quite a mess," Sugar agreed as she went into the bathroom. As she changed into her swimsuit she recalled Julia Child, her childhood cooking idol, once commenting that food should first be regarded as pleasure, not medicine. She didn't stop, usually, to consider what any given dish contained. Moderation and keeping a general eye on the food pyramid was as much as she worried, usually.

  She looked at her butt in the bathroom mirror and sighed. A swimsuit wasn't very flattering at the moment. It wasn't food that had put on those few extra pounds; it was total lack of activity. She'd gone from being on her feet ten hours a day, six days a week, to sitting on her butt. It showed.

  She wrapped the towel Tree had left around her waist and found that Tree had changed as well. She wore a black one-piece suit that made her skin all the more pale. Her long, silky hair was twisted on top of her head and held in place by what looked like a pair of chopsticks. Sugar could have tried for days and had help, yet never achieved anything so casually elegant.

  The night was growing chilly, so they quickly padded down the stairs to the end of the complex. No one else was in the steaming water, and they slipped in with happy sighs.

  "That feels wonderful," Sugar breathed.

  "Blessings of the goddess, without a doubt." Tree closed her eyes as she submerged herself up to her neck.

  The warmth soaked into Sugar's bones. It felt lazy and was most welcome for that. She did sit on her butt far too much, but her work was still intense and draining. The bird's nest had been an experiment, and the first three attempts had failed. She'd finished shaping and decorating one of the faux eggs then promptly knocked it off the table with her sleeve. The final effect she had very much liked, and her Seattle Eats competition cake would include something similar. She had to get serious about making her shopping list and planning out the baking schedule. Sunday, she thought. She'd have to shop on Saturday to get a good start on

  Sunday. She would make this event a success. It would be some¬thing to show her sisters, for once.

  You're not doing it for them, she reminded herself. Meeting with Patty was always stressful, but today's encounter had gone better than most. Maybe she had changed, a little bit. Her home had burned down and yet her life hadn't gone up in flames. Maybe, she mused, she had a better set of priorities. Being safe mattered more than scoring points off any of her sisters. Keeping her dreams alive was far more important than Patty's opinion of her. Feeling natural, sweet, easy human affection and love in its many forms was worth more to her on the inside than any possession.

  Tree didn't seem to want to talk, which was okay with Sugar. She was glad to see color in Tree's face again, likely from the heat. Even in repose, Tree was again smiling slightly, as if she and the universe shared an amusing secret. This was the woman who had walked calmly past fire hoses and disaster a week ago, and even without saying, "It's all going to be okay," she had made Sugar feel that it would be. For a relatively small woman, something about her was large.

  It was probably ten minutes before Tree stirred. "I think I'm going to live," she said softly. "I had a rotten day. Sorry to take it out on you."

  "If this is how you take it out on me, I'm not complaining." Sugar swished her feet in the water. "I am starting to feel par¬boiled, though."

  "Let's sit up for a bit."

  "Good idea." The cold air felt bracing and Sugar sipped the herbal raspberry tea Tree had poured for her. "Is Tree really from Gantry? I was noticing the painted wall in your apartment."

  "That's a sacred white oak. My Wiccan name is Tree."

  "I don't know very much about Wicca, although my ex had an ex who practiced it as well." Noor had said, among other things, that the sex had been sporadic but mind-blowing.

  "It's more than a practice," Tree said quietly. "It's a way of life. Gentler, less judgmental, and hurts no one. It's a spiritual belief

  that doesn't necessarily conflict with other religions. It gives me great renewal." She sipped from her glass of wine.

  "Is it ceremonial? I mean, like with services and so forth?" Sugar really didn't know how to ask without being offensive. She knew,
of course, that Wicca was routinely equated—wrongly—with Satan-worship. She didn't want Tree to think she felt that way.

  "It can be. Some people get caught up with doing everything properly. Wiccans aren't the only ones who fall prey to that, though." She smiled. "I have a friend who can't start her day with¬out observing various steps. If she misses one she feels she has a bad day as a result. Still, since she nearly always gets it right, that means she feels she nearly always has a good day."

  "I worked with a guy who couldn't start his workday without making a perfect sunny-side-up egg. Egg didn't turn out, the rest of the day was rocky." She shrugged. "Whatever works."

  "Exactly."

  Two men arrived, talking boisterously about a Mariners game they had just finished watching. Tree scooted closer to Sugar and they soaked in quiet for a little longer. When a couple with obvi¬ous romantic intentions arrived, Tree shinnied up to the edge and they shared a nod of agreement. They'd had their peaceful min¬utes; now it was time to go.

  Tree invited her to use the shower to rinse if she liked, and Sugar took her up on the offer. She redressed in her clothes, feel¬ing like a very relaxed million bucks. Tree had changed into a short robe and was curled up in one corner of the soft, inviting sofa.

  Sugar carried her tea over and joined her. Sinking into the cushions, she said, "You must fall asleep here all the time."

  "I do," Tree admitted. "Tonight isn't exactly going as I had planned, but I hope it wasn't a washout for you."

  Sugar turned her head to regard Tree seriously. "I had no expectations beyond talk."

  "Neither had I. But I'd forgotten how—when you arrived tonight I did briefly consider other things. You're so alive and I was

  feeling a bit down. This will sound fanciful, but I thought if I could somehow get you to hold me I'd feel a great deal better."