"Twenty-five minutes in four-fifty to five hundred degrees, then we turn it down to about three twenty-five. It'll sear the outer skin." Leah hurried to open the door when Jackie hoisted the roaster off the counter.
"Well, you've taken care of dinner, so let me make breakfast. How hungry are you?"
"Starved."
Newly aware that her guest might have exacting standards about food, Leah took care over the eggs and hashed potatoes. Jackie ate with relish and appreciation. Sharla had always been dieting. Leah shook her head to get the image of Sharla out of it.
"The phone's still dead. Do you think my uncle will come for me today?"
Leah glanced out the window where the snow was still coming down. "I really doubt it. Visibility's bad. And the snow's probably four to five feet at the bottom of the hills. It would be foolish. They won't plow up here till it stops snowing and then only after the main roads are cleared."
"How long will it last?"
Leah shrugged. "Looks like all day to me. Sorry."
"No, I'm the one who's sorry. You hardly expected a visitor, let alone one that stayed for days."
Leah was surprised that she smiled. "It's okay. My social skills were getting rusty."
"Look, I'm dying of curiosity about something," Jackie said. She gathered the breakfast dishes and headed for the sink. "How do you know my mother's work and why was there a box of costly art supplies sitting in the snow outside? I put in on the back porch, by the way."
Leah bit her lower lip. She was going to spend the whole day with this woman. It wasn't as though she could go for a long walk. "I'm an artist."
"Oh. That explains it." Jackie started to rinse the dishes and Leah felt a little let down. Then she realized that Jackie had probably met a lot of artists and aspiring artists. She permitted herself a moment of ego... she would have thought that Jellica Frakes's daughter would know her name.
Jackie was already a step ahead of her. "Leah Beck. Lee Beck. Pieces of Eight? Many-Splendored Black and Red? Are you the Lee Beck?"
Leah nodded. She watched the expressions flicker over Jackie's face. Jackie's cheekbones cast shadows into the hollows above her jaws... an interesting face, Leah thought. Not pretty, but very interesting. And the thick braid of deep brown hair that fell the length of her back plus a few inches — it was beautiful against the white of her sweater, even if it looked a bit scraggly after having been slept on.
She realized that Jackie was probably recalling everything she knew about Lee Beck. A widening of deep blue eyes... possibly she was recalling that Leah told the NEA to shove their grant. Thick, dark lashes flickered with something not quite fear, but surprise. Oh great, Leah thought. She just remembered I'm a lesbian.
Then the inevitable looking away. She's just remembered Sharla died. Beautiful Sharla, the love of my life. She's going to say —
"I'm sorry," Jackie said.
"What for?"
"I don't think you wanted me to know." She turned back to the dishes. "I can see it calls up painful memories for you."
"I can handle it." Hah.
"That's why you left the art supplies outside."
Leah could tell that Jackie thought she was being self-indulgent. Stung, she said, "What the hell do you know about it?"
Jackie turned back from the suds in the sink. "You're not working."
Leah came up out of her chair. She could not believe this woman's insensitivity! "My negligence cost me the woman I loved. Excuse me for grieving. You don't know anything about it."
"I'm sorry. You're right, I don't," Jackie said. She turned back to the sink. "How frugal do I need to be with the hot water?"
Leah's mouth hung open for a moment. Of all the nerve, and then changing the subject. "The propane tank is near full and the hot water heater runs off that."
"Oh good," Jackie said. She ran more hot water into the sink.
Butch sidled up to Jackie's thighs, nudging none too gently. Traitor dog, Leah thought grimly.
Jackie glanced over her shoulder at Butch. "You should eat more than I've already given you? I'm not the person to beg from, you know." Butch whined, then padded over to nudge at Leah's fingers. Leah had half a mind to let her starve.
"What's she had?"
"She gummed a piece of carrot, then rejected it in favor of the rest of the can of Science Diet that was on the back porch. I let her out for a few minutes and when she came back in I fished a piece of boiled turkey meat out of the stock and she seemed to like that a lot when it cooled off."
"I'll bet she did. Time for some dry food, girl." Leah went out on the back porch and busied herself dishing out a good portion of dry food. Butch was a big dog. She then decided it was time to sweep out the porch — the dust was pretty thick in places. Who cared if it was a snow storm? She'd rather be out here than making small talk. Jackie didn't understand about grief, that much was abundantly clear — she was a tabula rasa when it came to pain.
She worked the broom into all the corners, disturbing dust that had been there when she and Sharla had bought the cabin eight years ago. Jackie Frakes didn't know what she was talking' about. It had only been 25 months. You don't recover losing someone that fast, not someone she'd loved the way she'd loved Sharla. She could close her eyes and see Sharla crunching across the snow toward her. Sharla in all her elegance, her hair the color of maple leaves turning in the autumn.
Leah drew in a deep breath and swayed on her feet. Skin nearly translucent, skin that bruised from Leah's kisses in the wildest moments of their lovemaking. God, the sex — Sharla had been Leah's first and only lover, but Leah knew the love they'd made had been world-class. Sex too vivid for color, too tender for form.
Leah shuddered and opened her eyes. Snow swirled against the door to the back porch. She could hardly see the nearest tree let alone the meadow where Sharla had once danced and laughed. Self-indulgent? Was missing her, longing for her, remembering her self-indulgent?
The bang of a pot on the floor followed by low-voiced cursing snapped Leah back to what she had been doing. She looked down at the small pile. Too prosaic for her mood. She swept it into a dustpan, dumped it in the bin and went to see if she could lend Jackie a hand.
4
Jackie ladled gravy generously over her stuffing. She would need a nap after this, but if she said so herself, the meal had turned out wonderfully.
"It's not all that glamorous," Jackie said, in response to Leah's question. "My folks kept me out of the limelight. I was just another diplomatic corps brat, really. I didn't go the fancy dinners or meet heads of state. Well, I did meet and curtsey to Queen Elizabeth when I was eleven."
"What kind of life is it, though? Where did you live?" Leah was dividing her attention between the turkey and the baked yams.
"Depending on the country, we lived in the city nearby or at the embassy. My mom was much happier when we lived in the cities. We lived in Oslo and The Hague. And Madrid. But we lived in the embassy anywhere south of that. I didn't get to see much of the African or Middle Eastern countries. My mom went outside more than I did. And I went to boarding school after I turned twelve."
"Where do you call home?"
Jackie swallowed a delectable mouthful of turkey and gravy. "San Francisco. I always wanted to live there. I have dual Canadian and U.S. citizenship, so I guess if I didn't love the Bay Area, I'd go for Vancouver or Victoria. When I'm a licensed architect it'll really depend on where the work is. At least the work I want to do." She made a face.
"I take it you're less than happy where you are."
"I could really hate it if I let myself. But I've got no one to blame but me. At least I can blame the car on Parker." She smiled wryly.
Leah paused in cutting another bite of turkey. "Let me get this straight about the car. You decided together that it made sense for you to buy a car so you could drive down to see him, and then he picked out the car?"
"That's not quite the way it happened," Jackie said. Put like that, it sounded like Parker
was a chauvinist or something. He was in fact very sensitive to women's issues and she sought to defend him. "It was only when we were out looking and we found the MG —"
"But it wasn't the car you wanted and you were the one who was going to pay for it and drive it, right?"
She nodded.
"Well," Leah said. "Whatever."
Jackie let the silence grow. She supposed that her relationship with Parker wasn't something she could expect Leah to empathize with. She ignored the little voice that reminded her that she'd agreed to spend Thanksgiving with her aunt to make a break from the routine of seeing Parker every weekend.
"Why doesn't he drive up to see you?"
"His car has just enough life to get him to the office and back. And he works long hours."
"Longer than yours?"
Jackie nodded. 'I generally work through about noon on Saturday, and he works until four or so. He's on contract, so he can come and go as he pleases, but he's on a very rigid production schedule. Software design is pretty complicated."
Leah snorted. "Lots more complicated than designing the requirements for a block of condominiums."
Jackie smiled. "Okay, architecture is complicated too."
Leah swallowed another mouthful of green beans, then said, "Well, I'm glad to see he supports you in your career."
Jackie decided the diplomatic thing to do was to take Leah's sarcasm at face value. "He does. I just wish he supported me in my choice of cars."
Leah cracked a smile. "Okay, I'll get off my feminist high horse for a while."
Jackie wrinkled her nose. "I'll be honest, it bothers me. Considering that I could have frozen to death, it bothers me a lot. Our relationship's not perfect, but I've got almost three years in on his training."
"I thought you said you'd just moved here last year."
Jackie could feel herself flushing slightly. She hoped Leah thought it was the steam coming off the baked yams. "I did, but we met in Boston. I had finished my Master's and was working on my license. I need at least two years practical experience under another licensed architect."
"Umm-hmm," Leah said around a mouthful of stuffing and gravy.
"Parker was working for Lotus when he got this offer to consult in Silicon Valley."
Leah swallowed. "You were able to transfer out here in the middle of your certification?"
Jackie grimaced. "Yeah, but I had to give up a couple of months credit. California's requirements on experience credits were a little different. And the firm I'm with now is not as... interested in what I want to do. Their forte is large-scale commercial buildings. It was a change."
"From what?"
"From school. I went to Taliesin." Jackie felt herself flushing again. She knew what Leah was going to say. She was going to say exactly what her mother had said. Exactly what her father had said, though he had been extremely diplomatic about it.
"Let me get this straight." Leah leaned forward on her elbow and pointed at Jackie with her fork. "You went to the Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture. They have what— seventy-five, a hundred students a year?" Jackie nodded. "And just because what's-his-name wanted to take a job across the country you gave up your apprenticeship at the firm they placed you in?"
Jackie nodded.
"Couldn't he have waited and taken another job when you were through?"
Actually, Parker's not taking the job had never been discussed. Jackie wasn't about to admit that to Leah. "I didn't want to live apart."
"No regrets?"
"Je ne regrette rien," Jackie said. "No regrets." But even to herself she didn't sound very convincing.
Leah pushed her plate away. "I'm stuffed. I need to walk this off."
"Still snowing," Jackie said. "But it's thinned out."
"Thanks for the great meal," Leah said. The gravy had made her tongue do flip flops. She had made a pig of herself and it had felt... good.
"Thanks for hauling me out of the snow." Jackie smiled and Leah couldn't stop herself from smiling back. "Why don't we clean up the mess I've made?"
"One last thing," Leah said. She looked down at Butch who had not moved from her side throughout the meal. "Don't get used to this, girl," she said as she set her plate down on the floor.
It took Butch five seconds to clean it, including a small dab of yams. She looked up, eager for more.
Jackie laughed and set her plate on the floor. After cleaning Jackie's plate Butch correctly surmised nothing more would be forthcoming, so she wandered into the living room.
Leah dried the dishes as Jackie handed them over. They were finishing up when Leah saw a light gleaming down through the kitchen window. "What's that?" She lifted the blinds to peek.
"The moon," Jackie said breathlessly. "There's a break in the storm."
They wrapped themselves in their jackets and went out on the front porch. With a bark of delight, Butch launched herself up the slope, disappearing from sight as she sank into the fresh powder. With a yelp she leapt out of the hole she'd made and into a new one and on up the hill.
Jackie clambered after Butch and Leah followed. They'd be wet through in a few minutes, but after being cramped inside all day it felt good to be out in the bracing cold. For a few minutes at least.
With a hoot, Jackie threw herself on her back into the snow. "Oh, this feels great! Like feathers! Perfect powder!" She clambered to her feet again, a dusting of snow over her hair and face. She threw herself in another direction. "God! I've been inside offices for too long. The air is like wine." She hooted with delight and spun in the snow like a child.
Leah stood frozen, her fingers itching. The top of her head felt as though it was burning. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a faint blue over the snow, across the ground, on the tips of the dark pines. Jackie was etched in cerulean. Her braid spun in the light, and her face reflected the moon's glow. Her cheekbones were dusted in bleu celeste, and her chin was a blur as she threw herself into another drift of the silver-blue snow.
Leah whirled and stumbled back to the house, and then into her studio. She shoved some blank canvases out of the way. Chalks, sketchpad. She rushed back to the porch, out into the snow, then onto her knees.
Jackie had stopped her playful attack on the snow and looked at Leah in concern.
"Keep playing," Leah said. "Ignore me."
Jackie started to say something, but then just smiled. With another shout of glee, she launched herself yet again into a snow drift.
She was a mosaic of blues and whites. Silvers edged around her skin. The brilliant amethyst of her jacket framed the planes and curves of her figure.
She played for several more minutes, throwing snowballs at Butch, who barked and tried to catch them, then refused to jump at more. They sank into the snow, breathing hard. The moonlight abruptly winked out.
"Well, that's the end of that." Jackie's voice floated down to Leah on the whisper of the breeze. "It's snowing again."
So it was. Wispy snowflakes floated down like tiny handkerchiefs. She stood up, feeling dizzy. Her knees ached with cold.
"You okay?"
"I was concentrating too hard, I guess. I'm fine."
"Let me give you a hand," Jackie said, reaching for Leah's arm.
Butch exploded out of the snow, her bulk throwing Jackie, Leah, the sketchpad and pencils in different directions. The sketchpad landed closest to Jackie. She snatched it up out of the wet.
Jackie was looking at the topmost picture. "It's okay." She carried it carefully into the light of the porch. "This is beautiful." Leah reached for the sketchpad, but Jackie ignored her. She was staring at the drawing, then up the hill. "Yes, yes, it does look like that. The moonlight is both hot and cold."
Butch shook her coat free of snow, showering them with pellets of melting ice.
"Damn mutt," Leah swore. She was intensely uncomfortable with anyone looking at the first work she'd produced in more than two years. "She's probably toasty warm under all the fur. C'mon, girl, outta the way. C'mon!" She
kneed Butch in the side again, but Butch didn't budge. Leah glowered at her. "How would you look as a fur coat?"
"Come on, Butch," Jackie said. She led the way into the house.
Butch followed, her tongue hanging out a mile.
Leah rolled her eyes and followed them into the warm house.
Yawning, Jackie settled in under her layers of blankets for the second night. Butch curled up in front of the sofa. The firelight from the Franklin stove played over the bare wall where the painting had once hung.
Over the muted crackle of the fire Jackie could just hear sounds of movement from the room at the end of the hall. With a stammering explanation that she wanted to work out the sketches, Leah had retired there several hours ago and nothing but the rustle of paper had been heard since. Jackie had amused herself with the rest of the mystery she'd started the previous night. She tried the phone again to see if service was back, but the line remained dead. She changed into pajamas and snuggled down into the sleeping bag with V.I. Warshawsky. Butch had been content to have a Milk-Bone and sleep after her affray with the snow.
The brief exercise had left Jackie far too tired. She had been spending too much time either in the office or in the car. She promised herself she'd get back on a routine of exercise as soon as possible.
She heard the sound of paper being torn from a pad. A strange creature, Leah Beck, a.k.a. Lee Beck. Jackie knew more of Leah's work from her own studies than from anything her mother said, though she recalled her mother's pleased admiration when Leah had told the National Endowment for the Arts that she'd accept their award only when they signed a pledge to end artistic censorship. Otherwise, they could shove it.
Thinking of her mother recalled the way her mother had sworn Jackie was ruining her life by giving up the apprenticeship she'd had in Boston. She grimaced. I'm too young to start admitting my mother was right about anything. Truth was, she hated her job now. She could barely stomach the cookie cutter approach to designing places where people lived and worked, cranking out buildings that hundreds of thousands would look at and forget seeing every day. This apprenticeship program was a mill for churning out specs and blueprints—very little hands-on experience with clients was available and only token opportunities to develop anything from scratch.
Painted Moon Page 3
