to ward off the rising anxiety.
“He was the only one running.”
Kindra slumped back on the bench. What kind of trouble was Xabier in?
“Do you mind if I sit here?”
Arleta looked up from her laptop at a woman whose primary feature was big, brown eyes. Even slightly shadowed by a leather beret the woman wore, the penetrating intensity of the eyes was the first thing Arleta noticed. “Oh sure, dear. I’m just blogging.” She liked saying that word. Blog, blog, blogging. It made her feel hip and with it. Hanging out with Kindra and Suzanne did that for her.
The coffee shop buzzed with late-night activity. The seat beside her was the last unoccupied one in the house. Through the window, she could see Suzanne and Kindra resting on a bench, surrounded by shopping bags.
Arleta looked at the woman over the top of her glasses. She had had twenty-twenty vision all her life, and now at seventy-six, she had to break down and get these geezer glasses. She took comfort in the fact that the spectacles were just for reading and that they had jewels on them.
The woman slumped into the chair beside Arleta. Her leather jacket had a patch on it that made reference to a Christian motorcycle organization. “I like your glasses.”
Arleta touched the rhinestones on her cats-eye frame. “If you’re going to go blind, you might as well go blind in style.”
“I won’t bother you for long.” The woman angled her head to get a better view of the counter. “They’re a little backed up. I’m just waiting for my hot tea and Italian soda. I get tired if I stand too long.” The woman took her hat off. The clarity in her eyes overpowered her distorted features. The effect was subtle, but it looked as though her skin had been pulled and stretched over her skull.
The woman touched Arleta’s wrist. Her fingers were puffy and blue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I have a disease that causes my skin to thicken and my hair to get thinner.” Her lips seemed frozen.
“You didn’t—” She must have shrunk back from the woman without realizing it. “Okay, you did freak me out … a little.”
The woman laughed a sort of trilling laugh, like birds singing. “I’ve been looking at this face in the mirror for a while. I forget that it shocks other people.” She put the hat back on. “So are you from Calamity?”
“Just visiting. We came for the outlet shopping, and one of my friends has a husband who was supposed to do the Inventor’s Expo.”
“I live in northern Nevada. Came here to have a talk with my ex-husband about our son. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” The woman shifted slightly in her chair. “I don’t know anyone else in this town, and you have a kind face. I have to have one of those difficult talks with my ex. I’m meeting him at a bench out by the gondolas. This place is so busy all the time. He said it would be quieter out by the lake. I’m sorry, I am babbling because I’m nervous.”
Arleta patted her hand. “It’s all right.”
The woman traced the grain of the wood in the table. Her finger moved in slow hypnotic circles. “I suppose it all happens for a reason, even these difficult talks. It all works together for good. That’s what God says, anyway.”
Arleta straightened in her chair. “That God guy again.”
“What do you mean?”
“You ever feel like God has your phone number, and He just keeps hitting redial?”
“Oh yeah.”
A man behind the counter yelled, “Number sixty-four, Italian soda and mint tea.”
“That’s my order.” The woman rose to her feet. “It was nice talking with you—”
“Arleta, Arleta McQuire.”
“I’m Gloria. Gloria Clydell. Maybe I’ll see you around the Wind-Up. My ex-husband is the owner.” She held out her hand.
Arleta opted out of giving her opinion about Dustin Clydell. There was probably a good reason she was his ex-wife. Gloria’s handshake was like a vapor passing over Arleta’s palm. “Is it fatal, what you
“He was the only one running.”
Kindra slumped back on the bench. What kind of trouble was Xabier in?
“Do you mind if I sit here?”
Arleta looked up from her laptop at a woman whose primary feature was big, brown eyes. Even slightly shadowed by a leather beret the woman wore, the penetrating intensity of the eyes was the first thing Arleta noticed. “Oh sure, dear. I’m just blogging.” She liked saying that word. Blog, blog, blogging. It made her feel hip and with it. Hanging out with Kindra and Suzanne did that for her.
The coffee shop buzzed with late-night activity. The seat beside her was the last unoccupied one in the house. Through the window, she could see Suzanne and Kindra resting on a bench, surrounded by shopping bags.
Arleta looked at the woman over the top of her glasses. She had had twenty-twenty vision all her life, and now at seventy-six, she had to break down and get these geezer glasses. She took comfort in the fact that the spectacles were just for reading and that they had jewels on them.
The woman slumped into the chair beside Arleta. Her leather jacket had a patch on it that made reference to a Christian motorcycle organization. “I like your glasses.”
Arleta touched the rhinestones on her cats-eye frame. “If you’re going to go blind, you might as well go blind in style.”
“I won’t bother you for long.” The woman angled her head to get a better view of the counter. “They’re a little backed up. I’m just waiting for my hot tea and Italian soda. I get tired if I stand too long.” The woman took her hat off. The clarity in her eyes overpowered her distorted features. The effect was subtle, but it looked as though her skin had been pulled and stretched over her skull.
The woman touched Arleta’s wrist. Her fingers were puffy and blue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I have a disease that causes my skin to thicken and my hair to get thinner.” Her lips seemed frozen.
“You didn’t—” She must have shrunk back from the woman without realizing it. “Okay, you did freak me out … a little.”
The woman laughed a sort of trilling laugh, like birds singing. “I’ve been looking at this face in the mirror for a while. I forget that it shocks other people.” She put the hat back on. “So are you from Calamity?”
“Just visiting. We came for the outlet shopping, and one of my friends has a husband who was supposed to do the Inventor’s Expo.”
“I live in northern Nevada. Came here to have a talk with my ex-husband about our son. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” The woman shifted slightly in her chair. “I don’t know anyone else in this town, and you have a kind face. I have to have one of those difficult talks with my ex. I’m meeting him at a bench out by the gondolas. This place is so busy all the time. He said it would be quieter out by the lake. I’m sorry, I am babbling because I’m nervous.”
Arleta patted her hand. “It’s all right.”
The woman traced the grain of the wood in the table. Her finger moved in slow hypnotic circles. “I suppose it all happens for a reason, even these difficult talks. It all works together for good. That’s what God says, anyway.”
Arleta straightened in her chair. “That God guy again.”
“What do you mean?”
“You ever feel like God has your phone number, and He just keeps hitting redial?”
“Oh yeah.”
A man behind the counter yelled, “Number sixty-four, Italian soda and mint tea.”
“That’s my order.” The woman rose to her feet. “It was nice talking with you—”
“Arleta, Arleta McQuire.”
“I’m Gloria. Gloria Clydell. Maybe I’ll see you around the Wind-Up. My ex-husband is the owner.” She held out her hand.
Arleta opted out of giving her opinion about Dustin Clydell. There was probably a good reason she was his ex-wife. Gloria’s handshake was like a vapor passing over Arleta’s palm. “Is it fatal, what you
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