The Sugar Queen

by Sarah Addison Allen

  For a while after that, she thought her great-grandparents were surprising her with books. She’d find them on her bed, in her closet, in her favorite hideouts around the property. And they were always books she needed. Books on games or novels of adventure when she was bored. Books about growing up as she got older. But when her great-grandparents confronted her about all the books she had and where did she get the money to buy them, she realized they weren’t the ones doing it.

  The next day, under her pillow, she found a book on clever storage solutions. It was exactly what she needed, something to show her how to hide her books.

  She accepted it from then on. Books liked her. Books wanted to look after her.

  She slowly picked the book up from the apartment floor. It was titled Finding Forgiveness.

  She stared at it a long time, a feeling bubbling inside her. It took a few moments for her to realize it was anger. Books were good for a story or to teach a card trick or two, but what were they really? Just paper and string and glue. They evoked emotions and that was why people felt a connection with them. But they had no emotions themselves. They didn’t know betrayal. They didn’t know hurt.

  What in the hell did they know about forgiveness?

  She went to the kitchen, put the book in the refrigerator and shut the door. She slid her back down the door and sat on the floor. Jake had woken her up that morning by kissing his way down her stomach. She could feel her lower abdominal muscles clench at the memory, even though she was furious with him now, livid. But she could never seem to help her physical reaction when it came to Jake. She was sometimes frightened by how much she felt for him, frightened by his intensity, by the way he never closed his eyes when they made love. He pulled her to him the way wind pulled leaves, like she had no control. She’d never loved anyone as much, or felt such passion. To this day she could make tap water boil just by kissing him. And she thought Jake was just as consumed by her. The day they met at the courthouse, on his first day of work out of law school, he forgot where he was going and sat at her shop staring at her until the district attorney herself came to look for him.

  As he had moved over her that morning, she’d met his eyes and felt that rush of overwhelming feeling, her body panicking with it. It was almost too much, yet she could never imagine being without it.

  “I would die before I could ever be with anyone else,” she’d said, reaching up to touch his face. His eyes bored into hers, just as his body did.

  I would die before I was a game they played. One of those things couples did. An inside joke. If they were in a restaurant, one of them might say, I would die before I would ever eat that much again. And the other would say, I would die before I let you. Or if they were out walking through the park, one of them might laugh and say, I would die before I would ever make a dog of mine wear a bandana. And the other would say, I would die before I let you. But it was always serious in bed. I would die before I would leave you. I would die before I could ever get enough of this.

  Jake had suddenly closed his eyes, which he never did when they made love.

  He stopped and fell away from her.

  And that’s when he told her.

  There was only her. There’s only you, Chloe.

  He made a mistake. He hadn’t meant for it to happen.

  It was just one time, he’d said. Three months ago. The office had been celebrating after winning the Beasley murder case. Everyone had committed so much time to it and there had been all this stress, all these emotions needing a release, and before he knew it he’d done it.

  He loved Chloe, not the other woman.

  He begged her forgiveness, telling her he’d do anything to make this right. Anything, it seemed, but tell her the name of the woman he’d slept with.

  Chloe sat on the floor in front of the refrigerator and stared into space until the phone rang. The voice that came over the machine was Hank’s, one of the security guards at the courthouse, wondering where she was.

  She got up, got dressed and went to the door. The book was sitting on the console by the door. She frowned at it as she left.

  It was on the passenger seat of her car when she got in.

  It was lying on the counter by the cash register when she lifted the security gate to the shop.

  Downtown was busy that afternoon. Josey had forgotten that preparations had begun for the three-day Bald Is Beautiful festival, which was held every year to kick off the ski season. There was always live music and beer to attract college kids, and a famous baldhead contest the first night that received a lot of media attention. The festival had been Marco’s idea. Josey used to go to the festival with him when she was young, but it had been almost twenty years since she’d last attended. After Marco died, the town invited Margaret and Josey to the festival as guests of honor, but Margaret always refused, and the invitations eventually stopped. They were poor substitutes for the charismatic man who had once ruled the mountain, anyway.

  Because of the preparations, it took Josey longer than she thought it would to get to the courthouse downtown and find a place to park. She finally found a parking space big enough for Lola the Large Cadillac, then, when she entered the courthouse, she set off the metal detector twice. When the security guards finally waved her on, she walked across the cavernous pink marble rotunda that smelled of grease from the old elevators and went to the small shop Della Lee had told her about. It looked like a newsstand from a distance, with shelves of magazines and newspapers and paperback books, but as she got closer she noticed there was a sandwich counter and two small café tables.

  There wasn’t anyone there when she approached.

  She looked around and checked her watch anxiously.

  Suddenly she heard from the back room behind the counter, “Would you please go away? I don’t need you!”

  “Excuse me?” Josey said, surprised.

  A young woman with the most beautiful hair Josey had ever seen popped her head out of the doorway. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said as she walked all the way out of the room. “I didn’t know anyone was out here. Can I help you?”

  Her color was high and her brown eyes were shining. Her gorgeous red hair was a thick mass of curls that fell down her back. She looked like a painting, fragile, caught in a moment she couldn’t get out of. “Are you all right?” Josey automatically asked.

  The woman’s smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’m fine, thanks. What can I get for you?”

  “A grilled tomato and cheese sandwich to go, please.”

  “Coming up,” the woman said, and turned around to the grill.

  Josey sat at one of the small café tables. She kept checking her watch. She had just sneaked out of her mother’s ladies’ club meeting. She had about twenty minutes by her estimation, twenty minutes to get back to Mrs. Herzog’s drawing room before the meeting ended. Josey wasn’t a member of the group, and she always stood off to the side with the nurses and paid companions of some of the older ladies. Not even they paid any attention when she slipped out. The only person who seemed to notice was Rawley Pelham, the older man who owned the local cab company. Some mysterious part of the Pelham family tree forbade them from breaking promises. Once a Pelham gave you his word, he had to keep it. If Rawley promised he’d pick you up at ten o’clock, he was always there at ten o’clock. Annabelle Drake hired him to take her to these meetings, and he always waited outside and stared at the house as if the gathering of women inside was a mystery he was trying to solve. He smiled at Josey as he leaned against his cab, his collar up against the cold wind. She knew he wouldn’t say anything. For some reason, he went out of his way to avoid speaking to her mother.

  Sneaking out was another risk, yes. But someone had to take care of Della Lee. As far as Josey knew, she hadn’t eaten anything since she’d shown up three days ago, stubbornly holding out for a grilled tomato and cheese sandwich.

  Josey checked her watch again, then she suddenly felt a pull in the center of her body. She put a hand to her st
omach automatically, thinking it was hunger. The smell of peppery warm cheese and thick, yeasty grilled bread was beginning to fill the air. She would give the sandwich to Della Lee when she got home, and while Della Lee ate the sandwich Josey would eat oatmeal pies and candy corn and packets of salty pumpkin seeds from her closet. She daydreamed about that for a moment.

  She heard the metal detector go off and turned.

  That’s when she realized it wasn’t hunger she felt.

  It was Adam.

  He was emptying his pockets before walking through the metal detector again. He was still in his work uniform, but he wasn’t carrying his bag. He had on a well-worn blue fleece hoodie, and a bandana was pushing his hair back.

  Her lips parted when he began to walk across the rotunda toward her.

  But he didn’t even look at her as he went straight to the counter.

  “Chloe?”

  The woman turned from the grill, saw who it was, then turned back around without a word.

  “Come on, Clo. Talk to me. I just got home from work and found him on my front step.”

  “I don’t care,” Chloe said.

  Adam stared at Chloe’s back, at her beautiful hair. “He never meant to hurt you.”

  That made Chloe turn again, spatula in hand. “You knew about it?”

  Adam hesitated. Whatever it was, he knew.

  Chloe turned back around. “Just go.”

  “Do you want me to tell him anything?”

  “I’m not talking to him, and I’m not talking to him through you.” She looked over her shoulder. “Unless, of course, you want to tell me who it was.”

  “I don’t know who it was,” Adam said. “Listen, he asked me to go over to your place and get some of his things because he knows you don’t want him there right now. But I’ll wait until you’re there to do that, okay? I’ll call you tonight before I come by. Jake will be staying with me for a while. You know the number.” He waited for her to say something, but when she didn’t he finally turned and walked away. He glanced at Josey as he passed her. He’d taken a few steps before he stopped. “Josey,” he said, as if the glimmer of recognition finally penetrated. “What a surprise.”

  “Hi, Adam,” she said breathlessly.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m waiting on a sandwich.” She quickly added, “It’s not for me.” It’s not for me? Brilliant.

  “Oh, right. Of course.” He studied her for a moment. Her hand went covertly to her mouth to feel for crumbs. “Are you okay?”

  “You ask me that a lot.”

  “Do I? I’m sorry. You just seem a little sad.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine,” she lied.

  He looked over to Chloe, then turned back to Josey. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

  She watched him go. “Bye.”

  “Here’s your sandwich,” Chloe said, putting a white paper bag on the counter.

  Josey stood and approached the counter as Chloe punched some buttons on the cash register. “So, you know Adam?” Josey asked as casually as possible.

  “He’s my boyfriend…my ex-boyfriend’s…” Chloe shook her head and looked frustrated that she couldn’t articulate just what Adam was to her, which made Josey’s heart sink even lower in her chest. They had history. They had a relationship. “He’s my boyfriend’s best friend,” she finally said. “It’s four dollars even.”

  “Oh.” Josey dug around in her purse a little too long, working up enough courage to ask, “Do you mean you and Adam aren’t a couple?”

  “No,” Chloe said, as if surprised Josey would think that. “How do you know him?”

  Josey finally brought out the money and handed it to Chloe. “He delivers my mail.”

  Chloe took the money, now staring at Josey. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Chloe suddenly smiled. “Oh, I know! You’re Cirrini, Josey Cirrini. There’s a portrait of you and your father in the lobby of the ski lodge. I see it every time I go there.”

  Josey hadn’t thought about that portrait in a long time. Her mother had insisted on having it commissioned, and had been vehement about it hanging in the lobby for everyone to see. It had immortalized her as a fat child, but Josey had loved sitting on her father’s lap for hours while having it done. “I’d almost forgotten about that. I didn’t know it still hung there.”

  “You know, now that I think about it, Adam did once mention he delivered the Cirrinis’ mail.”

  “He did?”

  “But he never said he knew you.”

  Embarrassed, Josey picked up the warm white bag. “He doesn’t,” she said, and turned to leave. She knocked a book she didn’t know was there off the counter. She picked it up and looked at the cover. Finding Forgiveness. “I’m sorry. Is this your book?”

  “Unfortunately.” Chloe took the book. As Josey walked away, Chloe went to the back room, saying, “I said, go away.”

  “And then Adam walked in! I couldn’t believe it! Apparently Chloe’s boyfriend is his best friend and he’s staying with him now. I think she and her boyfriend lived together and she kicked him out.”

  Josey was sitting on the floor in front of the closet, talking with animation. The white bag with the sandwich in it, long since cool because Josey had to leave it in the trunk of the car until she could sneak out and get it without her mother seeing, was sitting on her lap.

  While Josey was out, Della Lee had obviously occupied herself by playing with the things Josey had brought from her house. She was wearing a child-sized tiara and all the old necklaces from the box, and had put a rhinestone-studded denim shirt over her T-shirt. She’d gone slaphappy with her makeup—her lips were bright glossy pink and her fingernails were each painted a different color.

  “Who is Adam?” Della Lee asked, blowing on her fingernails.

  “He’s my mailman.”

  “Aha!” Della Lee looked up with a triumphant smile. “He was the reason you ran out of here so quickly the other day.”

  Josey felt like she’d been caught with a mouth full of jelly beans.

  But Della Lee didn’t seem to feel like making her squirm that day. “I always worried about Chloe being so wrapped up in Jake. She never got to know herself. You and me and Chloe,” Della Lee said, flopping onto her back on the sleeping bag and pillow Josey had given her. She held her hands above her face to admire her fingernails. “We can’t hold on to our hearts to save our lives. You even let yours go off in some man’s mailbag.”

  “You know these people?” Josey asked.

  “Not personally.” Della Lee dropped her hands and stared up at Josey’s clothes. “But I know Chloe is a good kid. She’s…twenty-five, I think. I remember I was ten when you were born and twelve when she was born.”

  Josey looked at her oddly. “You remember when I was born?”

  “Of course. I bet most people in town do. You were Marco Cirrini’s beloved only child.”

  “Oh.” Della Lee hadn’t made a move for the bag, so Josey proudly put it on the floor in front of her. “Long story short, here’s your sandwich!”

  Della Lee turned her head to look at the bag. “I ate some things from your closet while you were out.” She lifted a corner of the sleeping bag to reveal some empty candy wrappers. “I didn’t think you’d really do it. Oh, I mean, I appreciate it. You’re being very nice to me in my time of need. But I already ate. That’s what you wanted, right? You eat the sandwich. You know you want to. Get me another one tomorrow.”

  Josey eyed the bag. That would be selfish, wouldn’t it? She admitted that she wanted the sandwich, but she’d gotten it for Della Lee. That wasn’t the same as getting it for herself. She couldn’t eat it. Could she? “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” Della Lee said with a devilish smile. “Go on, eat. And tell me about seeing Adam. Tell me what everyone said. The more I know, the better I can help you.”

  Josey sighed and opened the bag.

&nbs
p; When Chloe heard the knock that evening, she muted the television with the remote and took the book that had appeared beside her and stuffed it under the couch cushions.

  When she stood, Finding Forgiveness had appeared on the couch again.

  She stuffed it under the cushions, more firmly this time. Books usually gave up after a while when she didn’t want to read them. But not this one. “Behave,” she told it.

  She walked across the open living-room/dining-room area. The kitchen at the other end was separated only by an island counter. It was all very clean, masculine. No clutter. Just the way Jake liked it. She lost herself in him, in this. She let it happen.

  She took a deep breath before she opened the door. She knew who it was. Adam had called earlier and said he was coming by. She waved him in. “His suitcases are under the bed.”

  Adam entered the apartment and waited while she closed the door. “How are you doing, Clo?” he asked as he unzipped his jacket.

  “I’m great. Let’s go to the bedroom and get this over with.”

  “I can’t tell you how many women have said that to me.”

  Chloe had to smile. Everything about Adam made him seem carefree—his sense of humor, his naturally tan skin, his curly blond hair. He looked part surfer and part ski bum. And it was true, if there was an extreme outdoor sport, Adam had done it at least once. Up until three years ago, that is. After his accident, he said it was time to settle down. No more risks, no more travel, for him.

  But Chloe always sensed he wasn’t really happy here.

  She followed him and watched from the bedroom doorway while he took the suitcases out and began to put Jake’s clothes in them. She wished he could pack Jake’s smell. She wished there was a way to put it in a bottle and stopper it. It was in the mattress, in the wallpaper, in the couch cushions. It was like a feral mark. This was his space. These were his things. It didn’t feel like security as it once had, when she first moved in with him. It felt like gloating now. Like Jake saying, Look at all I have. You need this. You need me.