Halos

by Kristen Heitzmann

  He said, “Cut the act.”

  She looked up sharply. “What act?”

  He raised his brows. “Your Pollyanna con might fool Ben and Dave, but I see through you.”

  “Oh.” She cut into her meal. Yellow egg yolk oozed over the corner of her toast, and she speared the bite and chewed.

  “You have nothing to say to that? No witty comeback, no denial?”

  She swallowed and wiped her mouth. “In the three and a half years I’ve been on my own, I’ve met two kinds of people. The kind with their minds made up, and the kind who wait and see.” She took another bite. It was delicious cooked in excessive butter like that.

  “You’re not old enough to be on your own three and a half years.”

  “Twenty-one last June. I was given a car on my eighteenth birthday and invited to hit the road.” She took a gulp of juice. It had sat a little long in the carton.

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Guardianship only lasts until then. Aunt Carrie and Uncle Bob had fulfilled their duty.”

  “So they kicked you out.”

  A sting touched her heart. “It wasn’t like that. I was … an embarrassment. My mother eloped with my dad. No one in the family even knew about me until both my parents had died and I had to go somewhere.” She pushed damp strands of hair behind her ear. “I was a gawky twelve-year-old. They did the best they could.”

  He was silent so long she was sure he didn’t believe her. He’d already decided she was a liar. So what? People made judgments all the time. That was their problem. They’d judged her mother for choosing her dad. It wasn’t her fault he’d drowned five years after they married. So she was a single mother trying to make ends meet. Did that mean she was a loser?

  Alessi finished her eggs in silence. “That was good. Thanks.” She stood and took her plate to the sink. She dribbled dish soap over the yolky plate and spritzed it with water, then wiped the ragged cloth over it and rinsed. She loved when things came clean. Probably a holdover from all the places she and her mother had janitored. Mom had made it a game: The princess was coming home at last and all the kingdom must sparkle; or the ogre would devour the owner of the dirtiest house; or the prince would marry the damsel who wasn’t too spoiled to dirty her hands. Whatever the game, Alessi had worked with a fervor, taking on the devotion or desperation or humility of the theme.

  She turned. “Would you like me to wash your plate?”

  Though finished, he hadn’t risen. He sat watching her, then seemed to realize she’d addressed him. “No. That’s all right.”

  She dried her hands on the towel. “Thanks for letting me use your room last night.”

  “About that …”

  “I’ll have something else tonight.” She wrapped herself in her arms.

  “Well, bye.”

  “It’s cold out. You should at least take a coat.”

  She headed for the door. “Cholesterol’s a great insulator.”

  “Alessi, hold it.” He went to the closet, took out a thick flannellined jean jacket. “This one’s short in the sleeves. It’ll probably work just right for you.”

  She took the coat, risking one glance at his face. It was the softest she’d seen it yet. “Thanks. I’ll return it when I get my stuff back.”

  He said nothing. She went out the door, snapping the jacket to her neck. It would have been an awfully cold walk without it, especially with her hair still wet. Snow might be beautiful, but it had its downside. She stuffed her hands into the pockets. Her fingers found something in the right one. She pulled it out. Two ten-dollar bills folded up.

  She stopped. Had he planted it there? Her throat tightened painfully. She turned back, knocked on the door. It took a while for him to answer. When he did, he stood in T-shirt and jeans, having removed his sweater, shoes, and socks. He was not ripped in a beachcombing Florida way, but his musculature spoke of healthy exercise and natural strength.

  She held out the bills. “I found this in your pocket.”

  He looked from the money to her. “Keep it. You might need it.”

  She shook her head. “No thanks.”

  He pushed her hand back. “Keep it, Alessi. I didn’t even know it was in there.”

  Her ache eased. It was conceivable someone could have money in a pocket and forget. “I’ll pay you back when I get my purse.”

  He nodded. “All right.”

  She pushed the money back into the pocket and started down the street. She would only use the loan if she had to. But its presence there was a tiny spark of security. She decided to start at the farthest-out point and work her way back to the heart of Charity. The buildings were not tucked up to one another at the fringe. That made for a longer walk than she’d realized driving in.

  But she kept her pace brisk, building up some thermal energy inside Steve’s jacket. She entered the front of the kennel that smelled of cigarette smoke and tuna. Then slowly she realized it wasn’t tuna but dog urine. “Hello?” She waited. Finally a shuffling sound.

  A hunchbacked woman made her way to the counter. “Yes?” Her orange hair looked like fake fur, too many chemicals used for too long. A chorus of barks followed her.

  “Hi there.” Alessi spoke quickly. “My name is Alessi Moore. Could you use help in the kennels, cleaning up or anything?” She’d prepared an oral resume, but …

  “No. Do my own cleaning. All the dogs are mine.”

  “That must be very cheerful companionship.”

  The woman blinked slowly, her neck arched at what had to be an uncomfortable angle to meet Alessi’s gaze. The smile she tried to form was a ghastly cross between a grimace and a grin, but her voice sounded sincerely regretful when she added, “I’d help you if I could. I hate to send away a stranger in need.”

  “That’s all right.” Alessi wasn’t asking for help, just a chance to help herself. “I’m sure I’ll find something. Thank you anyway.” She went out and the cold snatched her as she moved on to the mini mart. A ponytailed man informed her that he and two others covered all the shifts there.

  She crossed over to the hardware store, where a cheerful couple gave her the news that they and their son and their granddaughter ran the store and “thank you very much for asking, dear.” He was tall and she was tall, and Alessi guessed the son and even the granddaughter were as well. She’d have fit in nicely there, but they had it covered. “Good luck,” Grandma called. “Hope you find something.”

  Alessi passed a motel that she hadn’t noticed on the way in, since it had only two rooms and the sign lay facedown in the tiny front lot. She went into the beer and pool hall. It wasn’t open for business yet, but when she tapped the window, the door was opened by a man with blond hair that stood straight out an inch from the sides and top of his head. He had the proverbial broom, his purpose made clear by barrels of salted peanuts in the shell.

  Alessi said, “I could sweep that up for you. I’m looking for work.”

  He looked her down and up. Not unkindly, but with a sort of vague confusion. “And I would do what?” That left her stumped just long enough that he said, “Sorry. Can’t help you. Wish I could,” and closed the door.

  Alessi walked on in the cold. No one needed her, that was plain, but they all sure wished her well. If wishes were fishes, or horses, or fairy wands—or halos? Alessi shivered as her hair glazed. No sense asking at the city hall, with its sign that said call Frank at home with inquiries, so she made her way back to the gas station.

  Ben waved her inside and brewed up a hot chocolate. “Any luck?”

  She shook her head, the strands faintly clinking. “Not yet. But I’ve only done half of the town. Once I warm up a little, I’ll start on the other.” She sipped. “Ben, do you think I could start a tab for a few things like a toothbrush and toothpaste? Just until I get my money back or a paycheck?”

  “Get whatever you need, Alessi. We’ll just write it down.”

  She started down the short aisle that held shoelaces, eyeglass repair kits, to
othbrushes, and combs. She selected a hairbrush as well as the dental items. Maybe there was somewhere in town with lower prices on those things, but she doubted anyone else would let her wait to pay.

  Dave came in rubbing his hands. “Hey there. Is that Steve’s coat?”

  She nodded. “He’s letting me use it.”

  “So you two made up?”

  “No. He thinks I’m a liar. But that reminds me. I can pay for these things.” She pulled out the tens. “I thought Steve planted the money in the pocket to see if I’d take it, but he seemed surprised it was there. He said to use it, so …”

  “You just save that for something else.” Ben pushed the bills away and wrote down the items.

  She put the money back into her pocket, then rolled the top of the small sack shut and tried to work up the energy to continue her search. “People in Charity must be the nicest people around, but this town seems to be high on help and low on need.”

  “You ought to talk to Steve at the bookstore.” Dave tore open a Danish pastry and took a bite. “He’s always over his head when he buys a collection. Spends hours searching out the history and value of each book.”

  “I think he’d just as soon forget I’m here.”

  “He’s not really like that,” Ben said. “It’s been a rough year.”

  Alessi took the stool next to the counter and leaned on her elbow. She might as well thaw out a little.

  Ben moved the cardboard display of breath drops. “He was up in Anchorage working as a park ranger, but his dad took a bad turn, and Steve came back to run the store.” Ben shook his head. “He wasn’t ready to lose him.”

  Alessi nodded. She could certainly understand that. Her daddy’s death had been sudden too. She chewed her lower lip.

  “And that’s not all.” Dave crushed the plastic wrapper and threw it into the trash. “His fiancée came with him, spent one month in Charity, then left him for some other fellow she’d been stringing along. Steve hadn’t even known the guy existed.”

  No wonder he had a poor opinion of women. Some certainly ruined it for the rest of them. “Was she pretty?”

  “A knockout.” Dave took a minty pick and poked it between his front teeth.

  “That figures. Beauty stunts character.”

  Ben leaned on his elbows. “Well, I hate to tell you this, Alessi, but you’re real pretty yourself.”

  “I’m lanky and freckled. I was taller than everyone in my class until eighth grade.”

  Dave grinned. “Diana always says she’d kill for five more inches.”

  “Who’s Diana?” She reached over and brushed a Danish crumb from his shirt.

  “My girlfriend, sort of.”

  “How tall is she?”

  “Five foot three.” He tossed the toothpick into the trash. “Says she’d distribute her pounds better over five more inches.”

  “That’s one good thing about being tall. Plenty of distribution.” Alessi scooted off the stool. “Well, I suppose I’ll go see who wants me.” She tucked the bag inside her coat and went back out. Spoken kindly, the next rejections at the community center and Maple Tree Bakery were as regretful as the rest. Though no one wanted to refuse her, she was learning the downside of a small town. People pretty much ran their own businesses, and business was minimal. There was certainly no tourist traffic, not even much Christmas shopping, though that might be due to the snow falling again. A silent desperation started inside.

  Unless Sheriff Roehr came up with her car right away, she needed a job. “Don’t depend on others, Alessi. No matter how bad it gets; God helps those who help themselves.” Mom’s way had not worked out well in her illness, but the general philosophy was one to live by.

  She crossed the street, but the hair salon wasn’t open. It listed hours for Saturday, but Alessi guessed maybe there hadn’t been any appointments. Or the person was on vacation. Or any number of scenarios. She couldn’t cut hair, but she could learn to polish nails. The fact that no one was there on a Saturday didn’t look good, though, not for needing extra help.

  Hawkeye Gifts was open, and settled in among the maple syrup displays and handcrafted wooden bowls, trivets, and serving trays were the owner and his cat. He stood up and extended his hand to her. “Doyle Upton.” He smiled. “This is Dolly.” The fur on the cat’s neck and back flattened under his hand, then rose up with static connection as his palm stroked her. “What can I show you? It’s all handmade, except for the syrup—that’s God-made.” He started toward a glass case. “Got some maple fudge the wife stirred up this morning.”

  Alessi’s mouth watered as she accepted the sample he offered. It was good fudge. “Mmm. That is some of the best I’ve tasted.” She thought of the money in her pocket. Did fudge constitute an emergency? The thought sobered her quickly. “Mr. Upton, do you need help here? I’m looking for work.”

  He looked instantly disappointed she wasn’t a customer and shook his head. “As you see, there’s not much traffic. Keeping the store moves me out of the wife’s way, and the wood gives my hands a thing to do. But no, I’m sorry; I don’t need to take someone on.”

  “Well, thank you anyway. Tell your wife I enjoyed the fudge.”

  “Oh, I will. Wives like to hear that.”

  Alessi went outside. Granny’s Trunk and Bennet’s Books remained. She crossed over to Granny’s and inquired of the woman inside, expecting exactly the answer she got. Back outside, she looked across the street to Bennet’s. That must be Steve’s father’s store. As her steps drew her closer, she studied the brick façade and neatly painted window frames adorned with a simple evergreen garland and white lights. She stood there long enough to memorize the window displays, then pushed open the door and went inside.

  It didn’t smell like Sherlock’s, where she’d worked before, with its spanking new paperbacks and a hint of her boss, Ed Miller’s, Old Spice. This store smelled of old cloth and leather-bound tomes. Who on earth did he sell to in Charity? She took another step in and caught a whiff of cinnamon and pine from the potpourri bowl in the window. You did not smell cinnamon and pine on the Florida coast, and for a moment she felt completely misplaced.

  The front did hold some new hardbacks and also a section of trade paper and mass markets. One woman searched that rack lackadaisically. He had a customer? Doyle Upton would have been courting her eagerly. But Steve was nowhere in sight. Alessi passed into the rows of used books, each section neatly labeled by type, some locked behind glass.

  She knew nothing at all about rare books except that it was hard to find one when a customer asked for something out of print. Ed had sometimes done an Internet search, but he hadn’t applied himself too diligently and rarely found what they wanted. He sold new quick reads to fast-food readers. Thinking about it now, she would have reversed roles for Ed and Steve. It seemed the old man would have valued the old books, and the young … well, she didn’t know what Steve valued. He was just running his father’s store.

  Six

  A LESSI STOPPED AT THE BACK CORNER, where Steve worked on his computer. His hair was more disheveled than the night before, and she suspected he did it on purpose. A peppermint aroma came from the lump in his cheek. He looked up, brows raised in that skeptical annoyance reserved for her.

  She smiled. “Dave said I should come by and see if you’d changed your mind about needing me.”

  “You haven’t found anything?”

  She shook her head. “Most everyone said the same as you. They can handle it themselves.”

  He took his hands from the keyboard, laid them in his lap. “So?”

  She swallowed. “There’s a customer up front.”

  “I know.”

  “I could see if she needs assistance.”

  He studied her face as if she’d grown another nose, then looked down. “All right.” He turned back to the monitor and replaced his hands on the keys.

  She stood rooted. All right—she should help the customer? All right—she had a job? The latter, she decided
, and therefore the former as well. She walked to the front. “Hi. Are you finding what you need?”

  The woman turned. “I’m … Where’s Steve?”

  “He’s working on a new collection.”

  “And you’re …”

  “Alessi Moore.” She held out her hand.

  The woman took it stiffly. “You work here?”

  “Just started.”

  The woman looked her over.

  Alessi said, “I came in yesterday. I would have left today but someone took my car.”

  Her brows came together. “You mean your car was stolen? Here?”

  “Yes, but Sheriff Roehr’s working on it.”

  The woman’s face changed. “Oh.” She turned back to the bookshelf. “I’ll just browse, if you don’t mind.”

  Alessi wandered back through the store. The only customer in town wanted to browse. Steve was right. He didn’t need her. But then another woman came in. Charity must be a readerish place if the bookstore, of all things, was doing the best business. Alessi greeted the new entrant, receiving a nod in return. This woman had an overbite that kept her lips from completely meeting, but her other features were nice: creamy skin and bright green eyes and a smell of almond extract.

  The woman joined the first customer. “How are you, Sue?”

  “I’d be better if I could decide on something for Noreen. She’s always the hardest one on my list.”

  “Give her a fruitcake.”

  Sue rolled her eyes. “Who are you shopping for?” Her question sounded innocent until she sent a pointed glance toward the back. “As if I didn’t know.”

  Alessi felt like a snoop. She’d make her offer, then leave them to their schemes. “Can I help you find something?”

  They both turned to her. Sue frowned. “Does he have you running interference?”

  Alessi stared at her. “If you mean Steve, he’s back at his desk.”

  Sue elbowed her companion. “Go ahead, Deirdre.”

  Deirdre elbowed back. “Maybe I’ll look around a little first.”

  Alessi left them perusing opposite racks, though it was obvious neither had a serious need for reading material, and returned to the back corner.