Frozen Stiff by Mary Logue

needed the warmth, he needed the sustenance, but what he really needed was some company. He had heard that the bakery was going to be open on New Year’s Day. Besides serving baked goods Stuart had promised to be offering black-eyed peas and rice, a traditional fare for the day from the other end of the Mississippi.
    When he stepped outside, he felt his shoulders go into a hunch and the wind swept his breath away. Working in the barn Rich had been at least sheltered from the wind, but it was still nasty cold. His fingers were red and swollen and his ankles itched. He remembered his mom talking about chilblains that she had gotten in the winter when she was a kid, a skin affliction that came from your skin freezing and thawing. He’d haveto talk to Claire’s sister Bridget, the pharmacist, about what he could put on his skin.
    When Rich drove up to the bakery, he pulled his pickup truck as close as he could get to the sidewalk without getting stuck in the snowbank. The snow had been piled up next to the curb by the plow and Stuart had, at least, cut a path through it to get to the bakery.
    As Rich pushed open the frosted door to Le Pain Perdu, warmth and humidity hit him in the face. Then the delectable smells. In the cold outdoor air of January all odors went away, but inside the bakery the air was filled with cardamon, cinnamon, and almond fragrances. He wanted it all.
    But first he needed a big cup of coffee. He walked over to a stack of cups and picked the largest one he could find, then pulled the coffee pot off the burner and poured himself a brimming cup.
    “Who said you could help yourself?” the waitress, Cheryl he thought her name was, swatted him with a towel.
    “Hey, if I had to wait for the service around here, I’d never get anything.”
    “Just for that, we’re out of French donuts.”
    “Don’t tell me that. I might have to go back out into the cold, sit in a snowbank, and pout.”
    “We might have one or two left.”
    “Make it three, please. I’ll seat myself.” Rich went over to his favorite spot, the booth by the south-facing window. He knew he was getting no vitamin D from the sun at this time of year, but the brightness and the faint sense of heat would have to do.
    “Rich, my man.” Stuart Lewis, the blond, svelte owner of the bakery, slid into the booth opposite him. How Stuart managed to keep so thin when he was always around all these sweets was amazing to Rich. But he knew that Stuart worked at it. Rich would sometimes see him running to the bakery at four in the morning. Stuart had explained that he had to exercise hard and consistently or all the pastries he ate would make him the Michelin man.
    “Cold enough for you?” Rich asked the typical January question. “You didn’t run to work today, did you?”
    “No way. Actually I wish it would drop another ten degrees. Isn’t that the point were the gas freezes in the tank? Then, at least, I’d have an excuse for staying home. It was bitter this morning.”
    Cheryl set a plate of three French donuts in front of Rich and poured him another blast of coffee. Rich nodded thanks. She lifted the pot in Stuart’s direction and he nodded yes. She went to get him a cup.
    “What’s going on?” Rich asked, again a reflex question. He figured that way Stuart could talk while he stuffed the first donut in his mouth.
    “Well, I just heard that Dan Walker landed in the hospital. They say he tried to turn into the abominable snowman. Claire’s there with him so I’m guessing it must have been more than an accident. You heard anything?”
    Cheryl set down Stuart’s coffee in his special mug marked, “King Rolling Pin.”
    Rich shook his head. “You know I’m always the last to know these things. Claire might mention something about work when she gets home. If she thinks about it or if I ask.”
    “I only know because the EMTs who took him to the hospital stopped by for coffee.”
    “What happened? Hypothermia? What’d the idiot