He plopped into the driver seat of his car and started the engine. A few minutes later, he was on the highway, leaving Syracuse behind. He drove awhile before spotting a sign for food and lodging. The economy hotel was just off the exit ramp. He was given a typical room with a double bed, a desk, and an overstuffed chair.
While stretched out on the bed, he used the remote to turn on the television. He hoped to find something to take his mind off Ally, but Bing Crosby crooning “White Christmas” was not what he had in mind.
For a fleeting moment, he wished he hadn’t found Alice’s things in the closet. He’d so hoped his future would include Ally—beautiful, intelligent Ally. She intoxicated him like a bottle of the finest wine.
Suddenly, the room seemed stifling. He snatched his car keys from the bedside table. The sparkle of the gold treble clef dangling from his key ring was yet another reminder of what would never be. He remembered the look of anticipation in Ally’s eyes while she waited for him to open the little red foil box. He’d been right when he wondered how she could afford such an expensive gift. She’d stolen the money from Alice. One thing was for sure, he’d return the key chain to Miller’s and give Alice her money back.
He left the hotel, taking the back stairs down to his car. He wound through the streets, not knowing where he was going or even the name of the town. His stomach’s rumbling called to him for food.
It wasn’t long before he spotted the look-at-me neon sign for Chick’s Diner. Its stainless-steel exterior served as a time capsule of the 1950s. He pulled onto the gravel lot and swung into the first parking space. Only a few cars were peppered about. He hoped nostalgia didn’t take precedence over the food when it came to the menu selection.
Upon entering the vestibule, he half expected to be greeted by someone dressed as “the Fonz” from the television show, “Happy Days.” The floor was checkered with black-and-white tiles, and the walls were a scallop-shaped stainless steel. Rounding off the time warp was a jukebox, playing tunes from the golden-oldies.
“Sit where ever ye like,” yelled a robust woman with bleached blonde hair piled high on her head in a beehive hairstyle. She wore a tight pink dress with a ruffled apron tied around her waist, and her bright blue eye shadow was visible from where she stood behind the counter, a good twenty feet away.
She poured coffee for a couple of guys slumped on their stools, who looked like they’d been celebrating the New Year for some time, before leading him to a red vinyl booth at the rear of the diner. She plopped a menu down in front of him.
“Will anyone be joinin’ ye tonight, sugar?” she asked, snapping the wad of gum she chewed.
“No,” he answered, keeping his eyes glued to the menu.
“What a shame, good lookin’ guy such as yerself, spendin’ New Year’s alone.”
His thoughts were punctuated with Ally, and the force of his loneliness sent a sharp pain to his chest. He made a mental note to stop at a package store for a bottle of Johnny Walker before heading back to his room. “I’ll have the beef stew and—”
“I’m sorry, sugar,” she interrupted, “I ain’t yer waitress. Suzie’ll be right with ye.” She left him with a heavy dose of cheap perfume.
Could this night get any worse? All he wanted was some food and something to numb his misery…
“What can I get for you?”
Her voice was soft and smooth, and when he looked up, he swallowed hard. The waitress had the same shiny chestnut hair and pale alabaster skin as Ally. He blinked a few times before he realized that was where the similarity ended. Her eyes were brown, the color of coffee, not the smoky gray he so loved. Her lips were thinner, and she was a good six inches shorter than Ally. “Beef stew and a glass of water. That’ll do it.” He handed her the menu and watched as she walked toward the kitchen. What was wrong with him? What was it going to take to get Ally off his mind?
When the food arrived, he barely tasted it. Everything felt like sawdust going down his throat. He was only able to eat half his dinner.
“What’s the matter? You didn’t like it?” The waitress picked up his plate and placed it on her tray.
“No, no. It was fine. I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I’d thought.”
“Can I tempt you with a piece of homemade cheese cake?”
“No, thanks. Just the check please.”
“Not even a cup of hot apple cider, before you go back out in the cold.”
He shook his head. The memory of Christmas Eve and Ally by the fire at Gilly’s flooded his mind.
When he left the diner, his spirits were lower than when he’d arrived. He sat in his car for a long while, wondering how things between them could have gone so terribly wrong.
He drove through town, looking for a package store. Tiny white lights hung in the windows of the storefronts. The trees lining the streets wore the same lights too. It reminded him of Silvercreek. The memory of holding Ally in the moonlight was almost too much to bear. Enough already. You’re driving yourself crazy. He reached in his pocket for his cell phone, intent on calling the police. Maybe that would remove her from his mind once and for all, but to his annoyance, the phone wasn’t there. He must have left it in the room. Well, when he got back to the hotel, the first thing he was going to do was make that call.
So he didn’t have actual evidence to prove Ally was a grifter, but she’d lied about everything, and that had to mean something. Let the police come up with the evidence. He needed to get his life back to normal. Whatever that was.
Yet, he wasn’t so sure he was better off before. He’d been disenchanted by love. The women he’d known were selfish and self-indulgent—with two exceptions, Aunt Stacy and Alice. He imagined Alice as a young woman…a woman just like Ally. If he didn’t know better, they could be one and the same. He raked his fingers through his hair. He must be losing his mind. The story of an angel tree topper granting her a miracle was crazy.
Jack found a liquor store and got that bottle of scotch he so badly needed. When he arrived back at the hotel, he tried the same back door he’d left from, only now it was locked. He had no choice but to go through the lobby. Hopefully, it would be empty. Encountering happy couples celebrating the New Year would only add to his foul mood.
He entered the front door with his package tucked under his arm. Two hotel employees stood like guards by the entrance, handing out noisemakers to each arriving guest.
A young woman offered him one, but he shook his head no. She put it back in her basket, and he accidentally bumped her arm, sending noisemakers flying across the room. Most landed around the large Christmas tree.
“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, stooping under pine branches to retrieve them. When he stood up, he noticed the angel tree topper. His mind whirled with memories of Ally.
“Sir.” The woman tapped his arm. “I’ll take those from you.”
“What?” He shifted his gaze from the tree onto her. She held her basket out, waiting for him to drop the noisemakers inside.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Here you go.” He stuffed them in, then raced to the elevator, taking it up to the third floor.
He couldn’t get to his room quick enough. Once inside, he took a swig of scotch, then slammed the bottle down on the table. Everywhere he went, everything he did, Ally was there, invading his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her off his mind.
Across the room, he spotted his cell phone on the bed. He needed to call the police. Now! He’d tell them the whole rotten story and then be done with her. He took another sip of scotch. With the bottle poised in midair, the angel tree topper in the hotel lobby sprang to mind, reminding him of the missing tin angel from Alice’s Christmas tree. He put the bottle down slowly.
What if Ally had been telling the truth about that? What if she hadn’t stolen the tree topper but really had been given a miracle transformation by an angel. Ridiculous. Don’t even go there, he told himself. Maybe he’d had more to drink than he thought. He checked the bottle. Only a
few sips were gone.
Be honest with yourself. You want to believe her so badly you’re grasping at any story, even one so incredible it’s laughable.
A nagging doubt remained, though. If she was telling the truth about the angel, that would explain everything—Alice’s disappearance, Ally’s remarkable resemblance, her knowledge of music, the cat… The list went on and on.
What a fool he’d been! Why hadn’t he believed in her? Miracles happened every day. Just because he’d never witnessed one didn’t mean they didn’t exist. And what better time for one than at Christmas.
His breath caught in his chest. If Ally was indeed Alice, then that meant at midnight she’d be transformed back to ninety…and if that happened, then the rest of her story had to be true too, and that meant not only would she become Alice again, she was going to die! Jack’s wrist shook as he looked at his watch. He had just over four hours to get back to Silvercreek.
Chapter Twelve
Please let Jack be home. Please let Jack be home, Alice prayed. She watched as another car zoomed past the taxi. She checked her watch for the time. 10:45 p.m. In a little more than an hour, her life would be over. Ally would disappear forever, and Alice would be there in her place—an old woman. A dying old woman.
Tears welled in her eyes, and a lump formed in her throat. It wasn’t the thought of dying that saddened her so much as the possibility that she might never see Jack again, never have the chance to tell him she loved him…had always loved him from the first moment she’d set eyes on him. She wasn’t a criminal. She hadn’t done anything awful to Alice. In fact, she was Alice. Believe it or not, she was that old-fashioned woman he’d always dreamed of meeting.
“Oh, don’t let me die without Jack knowing the truth,” she whispered into the night. “I couldn’t bear that.” The thought that he might be left thinking of her as a liar and a thief sent a shiver down her back. Her hands went cold and her mouth dry.
She leaned forward and spoke through the opening in the taxi’s plexiglass partition. “Please, if you could just drive a little faster.”
The man nodded and swung left to pass a slow-moving pickup with a load of furniture. “Don’t worry, miss, I get you there fast.” He spoke with a heavy Jamaican accent.
She didn’t doubt that, the way he was weaving in and out of traffic. She only hoped he’d get her there in one piece. Soon they left the city lights behind and were traveling through the streets of Silvercreek. She pulled some money from her wallet as they neared Main Street. From the taxi’s back window, she caught a glimpse of her old blue Victorian.
As soon as the taxi pulled up to the curb, she handed the man his fare along with a hefty tip, then nearly sprang from the cab to bound up the stairs to Jack’s apartment. Her heart was pounding so fast she was left breathless.
“Jack? Are you in there?” She banged on the door. The silence was almost deafening. “Please, open up. I need to talk with you.”
Where could he be? She wanted to sink to her knees and sob, but she remembered she still had his spare key. With fingers shaking, she pulled the key from her pocket and put it in the lock. Hopefully, she’d find something inside that would give a clue as to his whereabouts.
Her eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the dark apartment. She located the light switch on the wall, and the room was soon bathed in light. She looked for anything unusual, but everything was as it had been before. From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of red. The answering machine. Her hesitation to play Jack’s messages lasted no more than half a second. After all, they might be able to shed some light on his whereabouts.
It didn’t take her long to zip through his messages. The one that caught her interest was from Pastor Riley.
“Jack, I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said in his thick New Hampshire accent. “The police picked up the grifters. A male suspect in his early thirties. And a female, maybe a few years younger. They’re not talking, though. Looks like Ally could be a part of their crime ring. Have you come up with any evidence? Anything at all that could help the police. Thanks, Jack. Let me know.”
“Grifters?” Alice shrank away from the answering machine. “Jack thinks I’m a grifter. Oh Lord, this is worse than I thought.” Tears streamed down her cheeks and into her mouth. The salty taste on her tongue mixed with the bitter acid coming up from her stomach. This whole time he’d been playing games with her, wanting her to believe he cared for her so he could gather information for Pastor Riley…and the police.
Her chest tightened. He didn’t love her. He probably didn’t even like her. Oh, what a fool she’d been. She’d fallen for his whole act. Thank goodness this transformation was nearly over. Far from giving her a second chance at love, it only proved love was not meant for her. Empty and drained, she headed downstairs. At least she had Jasper, and he truly cared for her. When she was back in her parlor, she collapsed onto her favorite overstuffed chair. She shivered and pulled the wool throw over her lap.
From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, a cold like she’d never felt before shook her. She glanced at the grandfather clock. 11:45 p.m. The hand of death had come to claim her. She leaned back in the chair and let Jasper jump onto her lap. There was nothing to do now but wait for the clock to chime midnight. She clenched her jaw tightly to keep her teeth from chattering and stared at the comforting lights of the Christmas tree.
* * *
Jack pressed hard on the accelerator. The Acura fishtailed over a patch of ice. He’d made it to Silvercreek safely. He didn’t need an accident now, just a few blocks from Alice’s house. He glanced at his watch. Almost midnight. He hoped Ally’s tale of the tin angel was just another lie. He’d rather she be a grifter than dead.
When he pulled down the driveway, at first glance the old Victorian appeared dark, but with a closer look he spotted the lights on the Christmas tree twinkling through the parlor window. He said a silent prayer for Ally to be alive and well.
He parked quickly, not bothering to pull the car inside the carriage house. He sprinted across the lawn and up the porch steps, pounding loudly on the thick wood door. When Ally didn’t answer, he tried the knob. The door opened.
Something was wrong. The house was still, eerily so. Only the grandfather clock’s chiming midnight broke the silence. “Ally? Where are you?”
Crossing the foyer, he stepped into the parlor. He wasn’t sure if it was Jasper’s purring or the sound of labored breathing that shifted his gaze to the overstuffed chair. In the darkened shadows of the room, he saw a slumped form motionless in the chair. Strands of long gray hair covered her face.
“Alice!” He fell to his knees in front of her and took hold of her wrist, feeling for a pulse. If there was one, he couldn’t find it. Her skin was unnaturally cold and clammy.
Jasper opened one ochre eye and stretched contentedly on her lap, unaware of his owner’s condition.
“Hang on, Alice. Just hang on.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911. “Hurry,” he shouted into the phone. “You’ve got to hurry. She can’t die. She just can’t.” The operator assured him an ambulance would be there shortly. Beads of perspiration lined his brow, and a drop ran down the side of his face.
He heard a vehicle pull down the driveway and raced to the window. Pastor Riley? Jack met him at the front door. He was holding Alice’s statue of Venus. “What the— Where did you get that?”
“The police have the grifters in custody—a young couple. The woman—a gorgeous redhead with an angelic face—must’ve had the elderly eating out of her hand. She had the statue in her suitcase.”
Pastor Riley had to be talking about Taryn. She and Ross were grifters. Just as he’d suspected. “You can tell me the rest later. Come quick. It’s Alice.” Jack ushered him into the parlor.
“What’s happened here?” The pastor set the statue on a table next to Alice’s overstuffed chair and looked down at her still body.
Jack laid his palm against her cheek. “
I only just arrived home myself. This is how I found her.”
“It doesn’t look good.” The pastor took hold of Alice’s hands. “Where have you been? You never should have left your home or your friends.” He blessed her forehead with the sign of the cross. “I’m afraid the ambulance won’t get here in time, Jack.”
He didn’t need the pastor to tell him that. He’d known it the moment he saw her, but hearing those words spoken aloud somehow made it more real.
The ache in his heart made it difficult to speak. “Please, I’d like some time alone with her, if you don’t mind,” he managed to sputter.
“Of course. Oh, I almost forgot. Ally’s no longer a suspect. The grifters confessed to everything and assured the police that she had no part in their crime spree.”
“I know.” His voice sounded unfamiliar.
“That’s a bit of good news, at least. I could tell you had soft spot for her.”
Good news? He wished she was a grifter. At least she’d still be alive, but Ally and Alice were one in the same, and he’d lost them both.
He waited until the pastor left the room, then closed the door behind him before getting down on one knee and taking both of Alice’s ice-cold hands between his own.
“Please don’t leave me,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “I know you’re old and tired, but you’ve got a lot of life left. I know you do. Besides, if you leave me, who’ll play Rachmaninoff?”
A tear ran slowly down his cheek, and he didn’t bother to brush it away. He stared into her old, withered face, relaxed and peaceful now. If it weren’t for the occasional rattle in her chest with each shallow breath, he would think she was merely asleep.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” He squeezed her hands. “If only we could have spent a lifetime together instead of just ten short days.”
Off in the distance, the wail of a siren alerted Jack that the ambulance was near. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Twenty-five or ninety, you’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known.”
Tin Angel Page 19