into the street. “Knievel?”
He didn’t come back, even though I held the door open for another two minutes until
my freezing feet and hands forced me to close it. He’d scratch when he wanted back
in. I visited the powder room, wishing I had a toothbrush, and then wandered toward
the kitchen, looking for Les and a bottle of aspirin.
“Les?” The kitchen was cold and deserted. The iron stove had gone out. My brow puckered,
and I searched the ground floor, not finding any sign of Les in the formal dining
room, the theater room, or the gated wine cellar with its cute little bistro table
and chairs where Cherry and Moss and Les and I had played spades until the wee hours
one night while drinking wine nonstop so I woke up feeling a lot like I did right
now. Les must be sleeping upstairs. I climbed the stairs, my cold feet grateful for
the plush carpet.
“Les?” I called again. No answer. My tummy began to hurt. Where could he be? I poked
my head into the beautifully decorated guest rooms to the right of the landing. The
tropics-themed decor in one room beckoned me in, and I wondered where Cherry had gotten
the cute little monkey sculptures on the dresser. I was running my hand over the bamboo-patterned
duvet when my headache reminded me I hadn’t found any aspirin yet. Les wasn’t in the
master bedroom, either, but I found some painkillers in the medicine cabinet and swallowed
them, feeling guilty about invading Moss and Cherry’s room and stealing their aspirin.
Tiptoeing down the hall the other way, I found an office, a room full of exercise
equipment and mirrors that reflected my ash blond hair sticking out stiffly—oh, my
heavens—and another bedroom with attached bath. A damp towel was crumpled on the floor
of the bathroom, but there was no razor or deodorant on the sink. I picked up the
towel, folded it, and laid it over the towel bar. Les had showered this morning, and
then …
I moped toward the large window that overlooked the front yard and leaned my forehead
against the cold pane. It felt good. I looked down, hoping to spot Les or Knievel
or I didn’t know what. Nothing moved except a magpie gliding from the tippy top of
a spruce tree to the snowy lawn. He landed in one of Knievel’s paw prints and pecked
at something. Then the bird hopped toward the driveway, where car tracks made ugly
ruts in the snow. It took me a moment to realize. Tears pricked at my eyelids. Those
tracks hadn’t been there last night when I came up the driveway. Someone had driven
out … and the only someone around here besides me was Les.
I ran back downstairs, as if it were still possible to keep Les from leaving—again—and
stopped in the foyer. Not thinking it through, I opened the hall closet beside the
front door, planning to grab a coat. An alarm panel met my startled gaze, a red light
on it blinking angrily. Uh-oh. I knew what that meant because we had a similar security
system at home; at least, we’d had one until I discontinued the service because I
couldn’t afford the monthly fees. Forgetting about the coat and Les, I opened the
front door a crack and peered out to see an Aspen Police Department car charging up
the driveway, lights flashing.
8
As Charlie puzzled over Heather-Anne’s unusual lack of history, the door opened, and
she looked up. Albertine entered, saying, “Gigi—” before noticing Charlie.
“Charlie!” She bustled forward, her coral and turquoise tunic top molding to a massive
bosom and full thighs. She enveloped Charlie in a huge hug. “I thought you weren’t
coming back until next week.”
“Gigi had to go to Aspen on business, so I thought I’d return a day or two early,”
Charlie said with a smile, cheered by Albertine’s greeting, the long fingernails painted
turquoise to match her top, and her brisk, no-nonsense demeanor.
“She’s chasing after that no-good ex-husband of hers, isn’t
He didn’t come back, even though I held the door open for another two minutes until
my freezing feet and hands forced me to close it. He’d scratch when he wanted back
in. I visited the powder room, wishing I had a toothbrush, and then wandered toward
the kitchen, looking for Les and a bottle of aspirin.
“Les?” The kitchen was cold and deserted. The iron stove had gone out. My brow puckered,
and I searched the ground floor, not finding any sign of Les in the formal dining
room, the theater room, or the gated wine cellar with its cute little bistro table
and chairs where Cherry and Moss and Les and I had played spades until the wee hours
one night while drinking wine nonstop so I woke up feeling a lot like I did right
now. Les must be sleeping upstairs. I climbed the stairs, my cold feet grateful for
the plush carpet.
“Les?” I called again. No answer. My tummy began to hurt. Where could he be? I poked
my head into the beautifully decorated guest rooms to the right of the landing. The
tropics-themed decor in one room beckoned me in, and I wondered where Cherry had gotten
the cute little monkey sculptures on the dresser. I was running my hand over the bamboo-patterned
duvet when my headache reminded me I hadn’t found any aspirin yet. Les wasn’t in the
master bedroom, either, but I found some painkillers in the medicine cabinet and swallowed
them, feeling guilty about invading Moss and Cherry’s room and stealing their aspirin.
Tiptoeing down the hall the other way, I found an office, a room full of exercise
equipment and mirrors that reflected my ash blond hair sticking out stiffly—oh, my
heavens—and another bedroom with attached bath. A damp towel was crumpled on the floor
of the bathroom, but there was no razor or deodorant on the sink. I picked up the
towel, folded it, and laid it over the towel bar. Les had showered this morning, and
then …
I moped toward the large window that overlooked the front yard and leaned my forehead
against the cold pane. It felt good. I looked down, hoping to spot Les or Knievel
or I didn’t know what. Nothing moved except a magpie gliding from the tippy top of
a spruce tree to the snowy lawn. He landed in one of Knievel’s paw prints and pecked
at something. Then the bird hopped toward the driveway, where car tracks made ugly
ruts in the snow. It took me a moment to realize. Tears pricked at my eyelids. Those
tracks hadn’t been there last night when I came up the driveway. Someone had driven
out … and the only someone around here besides me was Les.
I ran back downstairs, as if it were still possible to keep Les from leaving—again—and
stopped in the foyer. Not thinking it through, I opened the hall closet beside the
front door, planning to grab a coat. An alarm panel met my startled gaze, a red light
on it blinking angrily. Uh-oh. I knew what that meant because we had a similar security
system at home; at least, we’d had one until I discontinued the service because I
couldn’t afford the monthly fees. Forgetting about the coat and Les, I opened the
front door a crack and peered out to see an Aspen Police Department car charging up
the driveway, lights flashing.
8
As Charlie puzzled over Heather-Anne’s unusual lack of history, the door opened, and
she looked up. Albertine entered, saying, “Gigi—” before noticing Charlie.
“Charlie!” She bustled forward, her coral and turquoise tunic top molding to a massive
bosom and full thighs. She enveloped Charlie in a huge hug. “I thought you weren’t
coming back until next week.”
“Gigi had to go to Aspen on business, so I thought I’d return a day or two early,”
Charlie said with a smile, cheered by Albertine’s greeting, the long fingernails painted
turquoise to match her top, and her brisk, no-nonsense demeanor.
“She’s chasing after that no-good ex-husband of hers, isn’t
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