Sugar flushed, unwilling to admit that she had had a restless night. Somehow she didn't like Charlie knowing that much about her, or seeing her as predictable. "I'll consider it."
"It might speed up the process of moving on." Charlie shrugged. "Sometimes it helps to know that what you're feeling is normal. Like it was normal to be so angry you wanted to slice that guy's balls into wafers."
"Charlie, what are you talking about?"
"Sorry, Pop. Where were we?"
Their voices faded to the back of Sugar's awareness as she buck¬led down to sorting through bath and kitchen towels. Her printer, answering machine and other electronics she stacked in grocery store boxes she'd picked up on the way over. She had little hope for the printer—water had been standing inside it.
Charlie was still occupied when she started on the clothes. If
they'd lose the smell, most were okay. A lucky discovery was the apparent survival of her CDs, which had been in an old iron foot-locker in the corner of the room farthest from the fire.
Charlie helped her carry the footlocker to the car, then beepers sounded and with a distracted good-bye, Charlie and her father bolted for the sedan, leaving her barely enough time to say thank you.
She didn't depart for several more hours. The glass guy came and went, and her car looked odd to be so filthy and yet have spot¬less windows. He even vacuumed up all the glass, so the interior looked better than it had in years. She locked it up and left it at the curb until she could get a lift to pick it up.
She looked at the tiny space as she left. She'd arrived almost eighteen months earlier, dreams built up and belongings pared down. The exhaustion of restaurant work had been behind her and only her ambition of a cake empire had occupied her mind. Even then she'd needed a small moving van for her belongings. Now they all fit in a car, with some room to spare.
She badly wanted to stop somewhere for a drink. She was hungry, depressed and still feeling numb. Right, alcohol would help all that.
As she drove toward Grannie Fulton's again, she realized that, for the moment, she was going to have to call it home. Wasn't that a kick in the head? Thirty-four years old and sponging off her grandmother. Reality sucked.
The sight of a King County sedan in front of Gran's house tem¬porarily sent her heart rate through the roof. She was worried, a bit, that since she'd known the rental "cottage" was illegal, and rented it anyway, that she'd owe fines or something. She was afraid to ask Patricia, her eldest sister and the attorney of the family, for her advice. She'd been against Sugar's giving up a "real job for a stack of bills" from the get-go. Quinn, sister number two, had worried it was too small—and she'd been right. Sister number
three, Rose, had said cheap, illegal rentals were everywhere, so why shouldn't she save a lot of money in the early stages of her enterprise? There you have it, she thought to herself, you should have known when you were thinking like Rose that it wasn't going to work out.
She supposed she ought to call one of them. As the official baby of the family, Sugar was used to receiving their unsolicited advice, and the situation had persisted into adulthood after their parents' death in an automobile accident. Her sisters were also good for sympathy and practical advice, even though the lectures were oftentimes infuriating. She wondered if Gran had already called.
Finally, dithering about things that didn't matter, she got out of the car. A glance into the county sedan as she passed made her feel much better. She'd know that emerald bag anywhere.
Tree looked entirely at home at Gran's kitchen table, a jelly-smeared English muffin in one hand. "Hi, I was hoping I wouldn't miss you. And then, well"—she toasted Sugar with the muffin—"I was tempted to loiter."
Gran started to rise. "You look done in, Sugar."
"I can get my own snack, Gran, you sit," Sugar said quickly. "Yeah, I'm pretty beat. It was worse than I thought, and ..." She peered into the refrigerator. "And better than I thought, too. Stuff I didn't expect to be okay was. I don't think the CDs even got warm."
"I'm glad to hear that," Tree said. "I stopped by to do a follow-up and give you this pamphlet about posttraumatic stress and symptoms you should expect."
Sugar started to protest but remembered her panicked awaken¬ing. She took the proffered pamphlet, saying, "Thank you. I have to admit it was a shock. Oh! And that's not all." She quickly recounted the ugly scene with Robert.
"That Charlie sounds quite the fellow," Gran observed.
"Charlie is short for Charline," Tree said. Her smile was not quite reaching her eyes. "We go way back. Charline is in honor of Barbara Jordan, and Charlie can be quite the impassioned orator."
There was obviously history there that Sugar wasn't sure she wanted to know about. Not that she had any reason to be thinking about it, but she liked them both. She spread tuna salad on thick brown bread and gratefully sat down at the table. "I was very for¬tunate she was there and cared. I suppose I should ask Patty what I'm liable for now."
Gran looked over her bifocals at Sugar. "I'd think Patricia would help you get money from that man's insurance company. The fire was his fault."
"I wish it was coming out of his own pocket," Sugar said. She bit vengefully into her sandwich and instantly felt better.
"Your blood sugar was low." Tree's dark gaze swept over Sugar's face, leaving Sugar feeling breathless. What a ridiculous reaction, she thought.
"Perhaps you can manage a shower in a bit," Gran suggested.
"I will. I know I reek. But I couldn't go another step. After a shower I'll unload the car and head for a laundry." She was finding it hard to sit still. She wanted to be doing something. She wasn't used to being able to talk easily to her grandmother, so a coin laundry was a good excuse to get out of the house for a few hours.
"You do it all here, Sugar. Don't waste your money on those machines."
"It's best if done quickly," Tree advised. "The unwashed clothes will transfer the smell to everything. Much better just to get it all finished."
To Sugar's surprise, Gran didn't argue. She actually seemed mild in manner around Tree. It must have been Tree's air of authority, tempered with an all-encompassing calm. She'd have to practice that aura herself.
Tree licked her fingers free of apple jelly. "I feel like a kid, I swear. And I really hate to gobble and run, but I've got another follow-up call to make."
"I'll see you out," Sugar said, forestalling another attempt from Gran to get up from the table.
Tree hesitated a moment, then said to Gran, "You really should
make the necessary arrangements about what we discussed. Trouble now, but freedom later."
"What was that about?" Sugar closed the front door behind her before asking Tree the question.
"Your grandmother is putting off surgery she needs."
"She's worried about being laid up for a while."
"She'll be laid up permanently if it's not done while she's healthy. Will you be living here a while?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Then you can be her support system. That's all the hospital is waiting on, that there's someone else living with her, capable of some basic lifting and household chores, shopping, cooking, that sort of thing."
"Oh." Sugar blinked. "I didn't realize." She wouldn't feel so bad for encroaching on Gran's long-established routines.
"I'm a big buttinsky," Tree admitted. "It's sometimes part of my job. Like, um, yesterday."
Puzzled, Sugar arched her eyebrows.
"When I said my partner liked peach jam."
"She doesn't?"
"She does, but she's not my partner anymore. I'm back in the dating pool."
"Oh." Sugar wondered why Tree had even mentioned it, then, especially after it was plain that Sugar hadn't ever come out to Gran. An excuse to accept the gift? "I'm sorry, about your part¬ner."
"I hate fibbing, and I felt guilty about it. So I'm glad my con¬science is clear now."
There was an awkward silence that Sugar couldn't define. "T
hank you for everything you've done," she said abruptly.
"Comes with the territory. If you don't mind, I'd like to check back with you in a week."
Sugar suddenly knew what she was feeling. It was that tickling, uneasy, itchy feeling that came with asking or being asked out. The dating vibe—holy moley, she hadn't felt it this strongly in years.
She felt like a nervous teenager. "Does that come with the terri¬tory?"
"No." Tree flashed Sugar a broad, easy grin. "This job has few perks, but one is usually having a valid reason to ask an interesting woman her phone number."
"Oh. Well. Urn ..."
"I'm sorry," Tree said quickly. "Really. I'm being inappropriate. I'll call you in about a week. And if you'd like to have coffee or something that would be very nice. If not, just tell me you're aller¬gic to coffee and I'll close the, uh, file."
Sugar laughed. "Okay. That's a deal." She watched Tree drive away, feeling more than a little bemused. Even with days of prepa¬ration she barely merited the fallback compliment of "cute," so Tree's interest was confusing. Add that she stank of burnt house, her hair was wild and her breath smelled of tuna salad. What on earth could Tree see in her at the moment?
Tree wasn't going to call for a week, she recalled. She had plenty of time to think about it later. She wanted time to go on hold for a few days so she could catch her breath. Then she caught sight of Gran's car, loaded with the remnants of her life. She had a project to finish, a business she'd worked too hard to keep afloat to let it founder now. She took a deep breath and told herself those weren't tears stinging her eyes.
Chapter 3
Fortified with two oatmeal raisin cookies, Sugar decided her most urgent task was a prolonged visit to the nearest coin laundry. The longer she waited, the more the car would stink when she was done, so there was nothing for it but to tackle the job. She unloaded the flotsam and jetsam of her cookware and other belongings—most of which would have to be scrubbed or deodor¬ized—into Gran's garage, told Gran she wouldn't be back in time for dinner, grabbed a can of soda and headed for the nearest strip mall, hoping she wouldn't have to wait for machines.
To her relief, the laundry was nearly deserted. Thursday nights at the laundry near her old house had been busy, so it was just as well that most people hadn't quite left work yet. She quickly had nine loads sorted, coins in, baking soda measured and detergent poured.
The only other people there had laptops to amuse themselves while they waited for their clothes, which made her miss hers all
the more. On the way over she'd stopped at an Internet cafe to check her mail and send out the news of the fire. She took the chicken's way out with her sisters and sent them all the same note en masse. They'd descend in their own time to demand details.
She'd been immensely cheered by an order from JaeLynn, a party planner she'd worked with twice before, requesting a cake replica of a '55 Chevy that would serve sixty and wasn't due for four weeks. JaeLynn had even sent the deposit to Sugar's online money-transfer account. She'd left the cafe feeling that maybe her business was going to be okay.
She was just starting to feel sorry for herself when a honk out¬side the storefront heralded Noor's arrival. Sugar had called her after leaving the cafe, deciding that Noor of all people deserved a phone call. She'd said little more than, "The house burned down" before Noor had insisted on meeting her to hear all about it.
Even better, Noor had white fast-food bags in hand, and the grease spots forming on the sides of each foretold of French fries. In the other hand she had what Sugar hoped were milkshakes.
"You are a godsend!" Sugar peered into the bag Noor gave her after they exchanged a friendly smooch. "This smells divinely bad for me. Oh, and the vanilla's for me? You remembered my favorite. Thank you."
"Of course I remembered." Noor perched in the chair next to Sugar's and unfolded a napkin carefully over the lap of her chic pink shorts. "I'm so glad it's my day off, girlfriend. What hap¬pened?"
Around a mouthful of meat, lettuce and special sauce, Sugar said, "Bad wiring. Not my fault." While they ate she described the flames, firefighters, her poor Honda's windows, Tree, Emily, Charlie and nearly everything she could think of to share.
"What all did you lose?"
"The worst is my recipe cards. They were all toast. Laptop unknown—it's drying out. On my way here I looked up on the Internet how to possibly save it, but I'm not holding out much hope."
Noor delicately dipped a French fry into her strawberry shake. "Your recipes? That is so terrible. Are you going to sue?"
"It wasn't my house."
"Yeah, but houses aren't supposed to burn down when you're renting them. You've lost business—"
"Not really, but some maybe. My car got new glass for free."
Noor, who had always known how to work an angle, sighed. "Pain and suffering? Don't people get tons of money for that? And the recipes can be replaced with the time and money to hire some¬one to do it for you. Oh, hey, you could say your laptop was in the car and got ruined. Your auto insurance would cover that."
"Maybe, but it wasn't in the car."
"They don't have to know that."
Sugar shrugged. "I'm not that desperate that I'd lie about it. I'm a terrible liar. Every time I lie I get caught."
"That's just your Goody-Two-Shoes upbringing."
"No," Sugar insisted. "Every time I lie I get caught. Not ever getting away with anything is a deterrent to even trying."
"Well, you should talk to Patty about suing."
"Oh, I'm sure it'll come up. I think she'll have to threaten Robert to get my deposits back."
Noor giggled. "Wouldn't I love to read that letter."
Sugar had to agree. "When Patty's on a roll it can be pretty impressive. God, I have so much to do. Phone calls and restocking and looking for something permanent and dealing with my sisters. And that's just Monday. I'm not doing anything about anything until then. I've got a cake to finish and that's about all my brain can handle."
"How are you going to stand being at your grandmother's for any length of time?" Noor tore open another salt packet and tapped it over her fries. At Sugar's nod, she sprinkled the last of it over Sugar's fries as well.
"It's the strangest thing, but I think she's changed. I came out to her and she didn't do more than sigh. I'm still blown away." She explained about Tree's nudge toward coming out and Gran's possi-
ble surgery ahead. "Gran had no trouble with Tree at all today, either. I don't know what to think."
"I'd have thought the planet would crack in two before she'd change her mind about gays." Noor chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "I'd say that was a sort of silver lining. Your family thing was one of our problems."
Sugar shrugged. "Yeah. It's been a problem all along. I mean, I never felt so much for anybody that... Sorry."
Noor was smiling wistfully. "Yeah, I know. It's okay. I wasn't willing to give up certain things for you either."
It was true. Sugar hadn't been enough in love to give up her family for Noor. Noor had always been honest about her once-every-blue-moon itch for Deenie. Sugar had been mostly okay with that until they moved in together. Then she had wanted a commitment. Noor had thought she could end her just-sex rela¬tionship with Deenie. Instead, it had only made the itch more pro¬nounced. Now Noor and Deenie lived together and so far both seemed happy.
"Wow, so you're out to your grandmother. That's really good."
"I sort of got asked out, too. Life is strange, huh? House burns down and I get noticed for the first time since, well, you."
"You'd get noticed more if you ever did a thing for yourself." Noor dabbed her fingertips on the napkin. Sugar had always liked that pale pink tint on her nails. Certainly Noor was looking the picture of health. Her dark eyes and long, glossy black hair were both shining. Sugar had no trouble remembering their many good times. Even bad times hadn't been painful so much as . . . sad. Intimacy had been grand. They'd both worked the typical chef's long hours,
but time together had mostly been fun. Still, some¬thing had been missing and they both had somehow known it.
"We can't all try to be as glam as you, sweetie."
"But you could try. When was the last time you had your hair cut? And hey, who asked you out?"
"Tree. Well, she said she'd be calling to ask me if I'd like to have coffee. Sort of a pre-date warning."
Noor continued to look at her expectantly.
"Okay, it's been probably a year since I had my hair trimmed. But no way am I spending a dime on that until I know if my laptop works."
"And you wonder why you don't get asked out. Do your cakes look any old way you feel like?"
"Yeah, yeah, presentation is everything, but I'm not a pastry and I'm not for sale."
"Of course you are. We've all got our hearts on the auction block."
"I don't. I don't have time, especially now."
"Don't use a disaster as an excuse." Noor frowned at her. Sugar thought it best not to point out that the expression on Noor's face bore a striking resemblance to Noor's mother. "Working too many hours was the excuse for years. I finally got you to get out regularly and you admitted there was more to life than work. But ever since you went into business for yourself—which I think was a great idea, you know that—you've not had any money to spare. No time. No energy. Now it'll be that your house burned down. You're going to shrivel up."
"That's not really fair," Sugar protested.
"What have I said that's wrong? When was the last time you had a nice time in bed?"
Sugar wasn't going to admit it had been with Noor so she fin¬ished the last of her burger without answering.
"Gone to a movie? Gone dancing? You haven't been out to a club since my birthday party, have you?"
Sugar seized the red herring. "Want to know something really weird? A woman I danced with—she's the producer from Best of Seattle who showed up."
"Hunted you down?"
"Oh, I hardly think so. As you pointed out, I'm not exactly a well-plated entree here."
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