She nodded and headed for the health and beauty section. She chose the cheapest blow dryer she could find but got a decent shampoo. She added facial cleanser and moisturizer and lingered over the foundations and eye shadow. An argument of necessity couldn’t really be made there. She looked presentable without it, even with every freckle showing.
So she went to women’s clothing and searched the clearance rack. She found a pair of extra-long forest green slacks that would look nice with the white mohair sweater. In the dressing room, she realized what she needed most, and she was thankful Steve had not hung around.
She preferred Hanes, so it took her only a few minutes in the lingerie racks to choose what she wanted in underwear, socks, and bra, and to fold them inside the pants. She ought to have something to sleep in, but Steve’s T-shirt and sweats had worked so far. She hated to spend the money when she had sleepwear in her car. Maybe he wouldn’t mind sharing his a little longer. She found a black cable-knit sweater on clearance for seven dollars, a beige turtleneck for five that would give her some combinations. She added them to her cart and went to find Steve.
He was perusing the CDs. “Get what you need?”
“Well, if you want your jacket back now, I’ll have to find something else.”
“Keep it. It fits you better than it does me.” He picked up a jazz ensemble, glanced at the backside, then returned it to the rack.
“Then I need to ask if I can still use your sweats and T-shirt.”
He rested his hands on his hips. “I’ll even throw in my robe.”
“Wow.” She smiled.
He half returned it. “We better hurry before I turn back into the beast.” He looked at the things in her cart. Thank goodness she’d hidden the underwear. He said, “Brush, toothbrush?”
“I got them from Ben. Now I can pay him.”
“All right, then.”
They started for the front. Most of the lanes were empty, and she went right up to the counter. She turned to Steve. “I’ll check out by myself.”
He stood dumbly, then grasped her point and went to wait by the door. The checker rang up her items, and Alessi paid, then gathered her bag and joined Steve.
“Ready?” He arched his brows with definite amusement.
“Yep.”
He pushed open the door and let her through. She was surprised to feel his hand on the small of her back as they made it through the lot to the car. “It might be slick.” It was awfully nice to have someone looking out for her, even if he did it under duress. He let her in and again brushed the snow from the windows.
Almost no other cars were on the road. They followed their own half-filled tracks back to town, and Steve turned in at the station and past it to the house behind. “I’ll just get some things from my room; then you can make yourself comfortable.”
Alessi clutched the bag. “I think I’ll stick to your other offer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sleep in the storeroom.”
He stopped the truck in front of the house. “Why?”
“I don’t want people to get the wrong idea. Diana might not appreciate me sleeping in the room next to Dave, and Ben certainly doesn’t need any more complication in his situation. The storeroom’s like my own place.”
Steve eyed her a long moment, but whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself. He climbed out and walked around the truck, pulled her door open, and offered her a hand. “Come get what you need, then.”
“Just the sweats and T-shirt.” She stepped down, her hand in his. He moved aside and closed the door behind her. They plowed through the snow toward the door.
“I’ve never seen a white Christmas. Do you think it’ll stay?”
“If not this batch, then the next.” He opened the door. “We usually have snow for Christmas.”
She banged her shoes, though the powder stayed around her laces and clung to the tread.
“The carpet’s old. Go on in.” Again he nudged her with a touch to her back.
She went in, letting the warmth enclose her. She wanted to shake herself, turn around three times, and curl up by a fire. But they had no fire in the small square fireplace. If she ever had a fireplace, she’d use it. And get a dog.
Ten
STEVE TOOK THE T-SHIRT and the sweats from the foot of the bed. It surprised him that Alessi would consider Dave and Ben’s situations. Barb would have reveled in the chance to play one man against another, incensing any women involved. Though both men had women they cared about, it was obvious they were also a little smitten with Alessi.
“Here you go.” He handed over the clothes and reached for his robe from the back of the door.
“Keep your robe. I’ll be fine with this.”
“Sure?”
She nodded. “Would it be all right if I still showered here?”
“I doubt anyone will object.” He went to the closet, took down a thermal blanket and an extra pillow. “This might help.” He knew all too well how chilly that room could get.
She reached for the bedding, but he said, “I’ve got it.” Did she think he was going to send her back to his store alone? He was ready to go, but she looked around his bedroom walls.
“Did you take all these?”
He glanced at the black-and-white photos he’d framed and hung. “Yeah.”
“They’re great.”
“It’s a hobby.”
She walked to the wall and studied the waterfall he happened to like best. “You could do it for real.”
“For real?” He raised his brows.
“Professionally.”
He frowned. “So I’ve been told.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “You don’t like the idea?”
“I have a business.”
She nodded. “But you must like to get outdoors and capture nature on film.”
He didn’t answer. He loved photography and being outdoors, but he’d resisted Barb’s insistence that he start a studio. He knew where that would go. She planned events for a living, and with his photography, they’d be a dynamic duo. Only he couldn’t stand her in event mode; she turned into a gushing commandant.
“There aren’t many pictures of people.”
“What?” he said sharply.
Startled, Alessi turned away from the wall. “You don’t take pictures of people?”
His frown deepened. Barb’s criticism again. “What is interesting about a hole in a rock? It’s people that matter. If you shoot the weddings and parties I plan …” He plowed his fingers through his hair. “I do. Some.”
“This old couple is nice.” She pointed to the picture on his wall.
“My grandparents. And that one’s my dad.” The other people pictures had been of Barb, and he’d taken those down and stuffed them in a box somewhere. He set down the bedding, walked to the corner, and took out his Nikon. He adjusted the settings. Then he held it to his eye and framed Alessi, turning it vertically to catch her height.
“What are you doing?”
Did she realize she was naturally photogenic? He snapped, adjusted the focus for a close-up, and snapped again. Her features were arresting, and though he’d initially thought of her as awkward, through the lens she seemed genuine, unaffected. He recalled the poses Barb had assumed to show off her best features, a beauty who knew how to flaunt it.
He lowered the camera. “You’re one of the few people I’ve shot who didn’t pose.”
Her sober mien surprised him. “I hate being photographed.”
“Why? Do you not show up on film?”
“Everything shows up.”
He slipped the camera back into its case and set it down. “What ‘everything’?”
“My long nose, my freckles, my kinky hair.”
Steve laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shook her head. “I’m not kidding. I look like a foal still growing into my legs.”
He cocked his head. She was genuinely unaware of her attractiveness. It
wasn’t the kind you’d see in Cover Girl ads, not Barb’s sort of beauty. It was an unstudied, unprepared appeal. And he was unprepared for it too. His chest constricted. “Is there anything else you need?”
She shook her head, gathered the clothes tighter in her arms, and walked out.
He scooped up the bedding and followed. Outside his room, his chest eased. He didn’t want her evaluating his talent or his choices. It made things seem personal. “We usually keep the kitchen door unlocked. You can come and go that way.”
Ben walked in, stamping the snow from his shoes. “Hey there.”
“Hey.” Alessi’s whole face changed. The tightness she’d exhibited throughout the day peeled away. “How did it go?”
“Well, she did say yes to dinner, but she couldn’t find a sitter, so we’re eating there.”
“That’s all right.”
Steve looked from one to the other. They were certainly candid. After twenty-four hours?
Ben swiped his hair back and nodded. “Yeah. She’s a good cook.”
“Maybe you should go over early and lend a hand.”
“You think?”
Alessi shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt.” She was giving advice?
Ben pulled off his jacket. “What are you going to do?”
“I have dinner at the store. Leftover pot roast.”
Ben glanced from her to Steve. “What about later?”
She clutched the clothes to her chest. “I’m sleeping in the storeroom.”
“Her choice,” Steve broke in before Ben gave him the evil eye.
Alessi said, “But if you don’t mind, I’d still like to use the bathroom. I’ll keep it clean. Oh …” She dug into her pocket and brought out the bills. “I can pay you for those things now, and dinner at Moll’s last evening….”
“We can settle up at the store.” But Ben paused. “Where’d you get all that?”
“I paid her in advance.” Steve put a hand to her back and nudged her toward the door. Ben did not need the full explanation of their agreement. He’d done what the guys expected, given her a job and a place to stay. If it happened to benefit him, as well, they didn’t have to go into all that.
“You can use the kitchen too,” Ben called as Steve got her through the door.
“I will. Thanks!”
Steve closed it behind them. The temperature had dropped dramatically, and the streetlights were globes under siege. He drove her back to the store, even though they could have walked. She gathered up her bag and the things from his room as he walked around to let her out of the car. His foot slipped as he reached the door, and he cautioned her, “It’s gotten icy.”
She stepped gingerly onto the frozen ground and walked like a new fawn to the door. It was apparent she hadn’t seen much weather like this.
He let her in through the back door. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here?”
She nodded. “I spent lots of nights in Ed’s storeroom with only a sleeping bag.”
He frowned. There it was again, her ridiculous story. If she was indigent and helpless, he was Santa Claus. “I’m going to set the alarm when I leave. If you open the door, it’ll trigger it.”
“Sure hope I don’t sleepwalk.” She set her things on the floor next to the cot.
“Anything else you need?”
She turned. “I’ll be just great. If I can’t sleep, I’ll read.” She picked up the Styrofoam box from Moll’s that she had left on the shelf. “I’ve got dinner and everything.”
It was not normal to be so cheerful over so little. Maybe she did mean to rob him blind. But she’d have to break through the alarm to get away. “Okay, then.”
“Thanks a lot. I mean … for everything.”
“It’s mutual, remember?” He jerked a quick smile. “You’re my excuse.”
She nodded. “Good night.”
“Here’s our phone number if you need anything.” He scribbled it on a pad next to the phone at the desk. Then he set the night-lights and the alarm and left her.
Alessi circled the storeroom, then settled on the cot. She opened the box of pot roast and realized she had no fork. Well, she had a sink. She reached in and picked up a bite. Having skipped most of it at lunch, she was hungry, and eating with her fingers didn’t change that.
She finished the pot roast and mashed potatoes and carrots, then washed up in the small bathroom. She brushed her teeth and tied her hair back with a string from Steve’s pencil cup. She looked into the mirror. Her nose was long, but it fit the rest of her face. If it were short and pert, it would look ridiculous. Her mouth was wide, the smile generous, though she hadn’t smiled for the camera. Why did he take her picture? To prove his point? She half wished she had bought the makeup, but in a way that would be worse. It would look like she was trying to be what she wasn’t, and she’d given that up years ago.
She wiped a dot of toothpaste from the corner of her lip and studied her freckles. They were the pale sort that spread over the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks, and truthfully, it could be worse. She was too hard on herself, but it came from her years in a high school where looks and connections meant everything. She’d never minded something as inconsequential as freckles until she encountered girls who waxed suicidal over a single blemish. Suddenly her flaws took on monstrous dimensions because she wanted to fit in. And, though she lived with Uncle Bob and Aunt Carrie, everyone knew she wasn’t one of them.
That was where she’d first been compared to a horse, where someone said she walked on stilts. She’d grown into her legs since then, but finding a good fit in jeans was always a challenge. Thankfully the rest of her was in proportion, even if it took five feet ten inches to do it. She turned away from the mirror.
Life was too short to worry about looks. It was what she did that mattered. She might not live to a ripe old age, but she’d use every day the best she could. Today had been an interesting one. Not fruitful as far as finding her car, but … interesting. She just had to be patient. She might get a call from the state patrol any time now if the thief had taken it on the highway. If the car was in Charity, it might take a while for Sheriff Roehr to question people, but sooner or later it had to turn up. Didn’t it?
She could already tell her thoughts would not quiet easily. She went into the store and considered playing solitaire on the computer, but Steve had it all shut down and it was probably password protected, and he wouldn’t want her on it anyway. She did turn on the radio, and sultry jazz filled the air. So Steve was a jazz man. Ed had liked big band, but she had introduced him to ska.
She preferred classical and especially the romantics Beethoven, Mendelsohn, and Viotti. So much emotion, so much life. But there was emotion in Steve’s jazz too; it just tended to be heavier. Maybe that was why he liked it. She half smiled, then pulled a scowl like Steve’s and imitated him nodding to the rhythm, taking the dark tones inside. Suddenly she shook it off and found the classical station and strains of Berlioz. She’d never been to a symphony concert, but she knew the composers from the radio.
Chin high, fingers waving to the notes, she moved between the shelves, thankful there were no motion sensors. At least Steve hadn’t mentioned any. She started to search the rare book aisles for a reading selection, then considered the potential buyers who might not want her reading them. She went to the new books and chose Dickens’ Bleak House. She loved Dickens because he cared about the plight of people. He knew what it was like not to have a home or people who cared, to be trampled and insulted.
She carried the book to the cot and settled in with the single fixture overhead for light. She knew how to read without bending the spine. Ed used to laugh at her peeking between the pages. She wondered how he was doing. Had he learned to speak again? It must be so frustrating to lose your abilities. Maybe it was a good thing not to grow old. She sighed and opened the book.
Chapter 1: In Chancery
London. Michaelmas Term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall.
Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill.
Alessi smiled. There he was painting the ultimate picture of gloom, and into it, plop, a humorous image as real as it was fanciful.
Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snowflakes—gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun.
At least the snow in Charity was white. She could hardly imagine black, sooty flakes being anything but bad luck. A flicker of insecurity licked up inside. Her white crystalline dancers had not proved overly helpful either—yet.
Dogs, undistinguishable in mire. Horses, scarcely better; splashed to their very blinkers…. Fog everywhere. Fog up the river where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards, and hovering on the rigging of great ships….
Alessi lost herself in the world of London drizzle, reading until her own eyes grew foggy. Then she turned off the light and pulled the covers tightly under her chin.
Life was a complicated business. Why should she expect it to change now? Time washed over generations of troubled lives, remarkable only in the struggle to keep going on. There were moments of transcendence, but the rest was just hard work. She closed her eyes and dozed on the hard, unfamiliar cot. She couldn’t even count the number of strange, hard places she’d slept—most of them preferable to the soft mattress of her Palm Beach bedroom.
Life was an adventure, and this was just one more curve of the yellow brick road. So far Charity had presented no lions and tigers, only bears—one in particular. She could live with that. She drew in the bear’s scent, laid down the night before on the cot he’d accepted in her place. It was remarkable, really, how much he’d done for her in just one day. Waves of sleepy gratitude rocked her. She would work hard for him, make it worth it. Even after she got her car back….
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