by Lorin Grace
Next time? She would let him kiss her again. Again!
He tilted his head and captured her lips and let himself just feel. He ended the kiss surprised to discover that breathless wasn’t only a Hollywood invention.
“I should take you home.” He offered Candace his hand and led her back down the spiral staircase.
The elevator definitely needed a slow mode. He didn’t kiss her at her door, afraid he might not stop. It wasn’t until he was back in the elevator that he thought of another good reason not to kiss her at the door—the hallway cameras. Maybe it was a good thing the elevator had descended so fast. He wasn’t tempted to kiss her in there, where other cameras could spy on them.
Hand-holding hadn’t been diminished in his estimation. But kissing—well, not his first try—but the others? Now he understood why there were so many songs about it. For the first time in years, Colin fell asleep without counting to one hundred in binary code. 534 days.
thirteen
Candace stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her. The foggy mirror reminded her of the necessity of using the fan. There hadn’t been one in Art House, and she was forever forgetting to turn the one in the apartment on. Using a hand towel, she cleared the mirror. Eyebrow-less and hairless, her reflection blinked back at her. For the past week, she had been pondering letting Colin see this side of her. Today would be as good a day as any. October was breast cancer–awareness month. As she did every year, she would wear her pink wigs nearly every other day. This Saturday she would go to the cancer wing of the children’s hospital and talk to the teens there. This year she had been asked to give the keynote address at the loss-support group she had helped cofound after her mother had passed away.
The only reason she had agreed to speak on the ten-year anniversary of the group was that she had been sure she would not be around to deliver the speech. Like half the world, Candace had a reasonable fear of public speaking. Fortunately, she didn’t get ill or anything, but she did end up running to the bathroom twice as often before a speech than was usual. Which usually wasn’t embarrassing unless she got toilet paper stuck to her shoe.
Would Colin come if she invited him? Probably, but was he prepared to see that part of her world? Few people were. Witnessing the bravery of a ten-year-old with terminal cancer or a superhero-cape-clad three-year-old so weakened by chemo that someone had to push them in a wheelchair weren’t things that were easy to see. The children loved it when she took off whatever outlandish wig she was wearing and let them play stick the ponytail on her head—a game she’d invented when one of her young friends was having a particularly difficult time adjusting to her own hair loss.
Yes, it was time for Colin to see her head in its natural state. As she dressed, she pondered the how. Just whipping off her wig of the day in the middle of one of their very enjoyable kissing sessions didn’t seem like the best idea.
Candace drove to the warehouse without a clue as to how to go about it. Once in the studio, she exchanged her wig for a scarf. Getting paint out of her long pink locks was not worth the risk. Scarfs were so much easier to clean and much cheaper to replace.
Today she worked on a zebra wearing a crown of flowers. The white paint had contained lead, so the refinishers had completely stripped the animal. Only the shorter mane and tail differentiated the zebra from a horse that had once been mostly white.
Rick, the project supervisor, came in shortly before lunch. “Candace, come see what we found. You will need to put on a mask and may want gloves.”
She followed him to the other end of the building where most of the heavy sanding and stripping was being done.
“Over here, on the swan.”
A worker she didn’t immediately recognize due to the full hazmat suit she wore held the head of the swan and stared down into the body. “Marv, I was wrong. I think there are maybe a hundred notes in here.”
“It looks like lovers used to stick notes in between the head and the body of the swan. We have only recovered a couple as the paper is fragile, and we wondered if you had any ideas on preserving the notes.”
They gathered around a work table where two very wrinkled papers lay. The first was in faded ink.
Dorothy,
I love you forever.
George
The second had been torn, and the pencil scratches were illegible, with the exception of a heart and an arrow.
The woman removed the helmet of her suit. Candace should have guessed it was Sally, one of the master restoration artists, from the red hair. “I think we can photograph them, but we need a better camera. It may be that someone can use some type of photo-manipulation program on them. But they’ll need to be treated carefully.”
“Do they have much paint residue on them?”
Sally shook her head. “No, the interior of the swan wasn’t painted, so I think they are chemical free. The swab test I ran was clean.”
Candace studied the notes. “Harmon Media has an archive where they keep copies of all their magazines dating back to the early 1800s. I am sure they have specialists who would know how to handle the papers, and I have an old roommate who does amazing things with digital manipulations.”
Rick grunted. “How are we supposed to get in touch with Harmon media? Short of contacting Mr. Gooding, I doubt they will give us the time of day, and if one of those rags writes a story on this and Mr. Gooding doesn’t want them to, we will all be jobless.”
“One of my old roommates works with Preston Harmon. Let me give her a call.” Candace was stretching the term “works with,” but she didn’t need Rick to know she was friends with Abbie Harmon. The supervisor was already annoyed she knew Nick Gooding.
“You had better talk to Mr. Gooding first. He might not want the Harmons in his business.” Rick glared at her.
Candace pulled the phone out of her pocket. “I’ll take a couple of photos and text them with our idea.” She snapped the photos and left the room, reasonably sure the real reason Rick had included her in the find was so she would contact Nick directly instead of him having to go through various channels and secretaries.
The photos accompanied a detailed text asking Preston to share the find with Abbie and Mandy.
A half hour later, Nick returned her text with a call. “I just got off the phone with my lawyer, who is going to draw up a nondisclosure. I am not worried about Preston’s word, but it is better to give his employees a reason to keep the carousel under wraps for now. He said the head archivist will be thrilled to have something new to do and should be contacting you after lunch. His name is Morry, and he’s in his sixties and is slightly deaf from working out on the print floor as a boy. Preston doesn’t want Abbie near the warehouse due to the toxins.”
Pregnancy and lead didn’t mix. Neither did any level of uranium. Mandy was nursing Joy and probably shouldn’t be around the notes or warehouse either. So much for including her friends in her project.
“Thanks, Nick. Do you want to see any of the progress?”
“Only if you find a very nicely worded note, maybe something from the past, that will help me with my future.”
“They are all love notes.” Sappy, wonderful reminders of the nature of love. Hundreds of lovers must have kissed in the swan, each thinking their love would last forever. Candace pondered how many of those notes were the beginning of a wonderful life and which were the beginning of heartbreak.
“I know.”
Candace wondered if he was talking about her cousin Zoe. But that kind of prying would get her in trouble. “I’ll let you know if I find something super romantic. Although Morry will know more than I will.” What would make one super romantic instead of superficial? Perhaps not hiding it in the first place.
“Thanks, Candace. Have a good week.” Nick’s number disappeared from her screen as the call ended.
Candace found Rick and Sally eating lunch in the break room. Someone had set a plastic pumpkin on one of the tables. Nothing like starting Halloween thirty days early.
Rick set his sandwich down when Candace delivered the news that the archivist would be over soon. “I suppose he will want to tell us how to do things.”
“I’ve never met him, so I have no idea. He may have some ideas about getting the notes out without destroying them.”
“We already solved that. The swan’s tail is a separate piece. We popped it off and were able to dump all the notes out.”
Sally flipped her braid behind her shoulder. “There are probably a couple hundred notes. Can you imagine all those lovers? The swan is up on the second level. I wondered if they tried to steal kisses when the swan was on the back side of the tower.” The romantic sigh she let out seemed lost on Rick, who glared at them.
“Back to work, ladies. I’d hate to have our visitor find us sitting around and shooting the breeze.”
Candace took a hard candy from the pumpkin as she left the room. Popping it in her mouth, she thought of a way to show Colin her lack of locks.
—Pumpkin carving my apartment tonight? 7-ish?
Colin couldn’t recall the last time he’d carved a pumpkin—probably with his nanny when he was seven or eight. Seven is great. Do I need to bring something?
—Just wear old clothes. It can be messy.
I bet you do cool things with your pumpkin.
—I am a traditionalist, triangle eyes and all, but if you want, we can find some patterns to download.
“Sabrina, find me some Star Wars jack-o-lantern patterns.”
“I have found over three hundred patterns. Would you like to refine the search parameters?”
“Sabrina, sort on skill level—easy or novice.”
“There are twenty patterns.”
“Sabrina, eliminate patterns on the Dark Side.”
“Eliminating all patterns printed in black.”
“Sabrina, send the twenty easy patterns to the laser printer.”
“Confirmed.”
Colin turned his attention back to his phone.
Sabrina located some patterns.
—Why am I worried?
You just don’t like her because she lives with me.
—She is an AI. However, if you are telling me she is self-aware, that is creepy.
Colin laughed.
I’d have to stop talking to her when I have an idea in the shower.
—TMI. See you tonight.
Colin stared at the screen. What else was he supposed to do when he realized what code he needed to change when he was in the shower? Write on the door with soap? Colin pulled up the app he was working on and tried to concentrate. Maybe he should go into the office more. It was hard to focus when he had a date with Candace to think about.
Soon he was deep into his work. Not even Janie’s humming as she dusted around him disturbed him.
Sabrina’s voice interrupted him. “It is 6:45. I see from your texts you need to be at Candace’s apartment at seven. Please clean up now.”
Colin turned off his computer. He had forgotten to set the alarm again. Sabrina was getting better at scanning emails and texts to add appointments to his calendar. He didn’t need to change as he already had on a T-shirt that would make his mother yell if she saw it. He didn’t see a reason why not to wear the shirts he’d gotten at various computer and sci-fi conventions just because he could buy ridiculously overpriced ones from some shop or another with a fancy name.
He arrived at Candace’s apartment a minute before seven. Her pink hair matched her pink tunic and pants. After she closed the door, he leaned down and kissed her hello. After a minute, she pulled back and smiled. “There will be time for that later. Did you bring your patterns?”
Colin produced the papers Sabrina had printed, and Candace flipped through them. “You seem to have a definite theme here. Which one were you planning on doing?”
“The easiest one.”
Candace pulled a pattern out of the stack.
“Not a stormtrooper.” Colin pulled out a different one.
“The little robot is going to be harder.”
“You can help me.”
Candace grabbed his hand and led him into the kitchen. “Choose a pumpkin. I’m going to switch for a scarf. I like pumpkin spice but not on my wigs.”
Colin watched her retreat into the bedroom. She didn’t need to wear a scarf for his sake. Someday she wouldn’t feel the need. It wasn’t like he didn’t know she was bald. She returned predictably in a pink scarf.
“What is up with all the pink?”
“Cancer-awareness month.”
“Your mom died of breast cancer, didn’t she?”
Candace nodded as she spread several pages from the Tribune over the table. “I tend to go a bit overboard trying to remind all my friends to self-check for cancer.”
“Nick says we all need a cause. I just haven’t found one yet.”
“Nick has enough causes for everyone. Isn’t his father the philanthropist of the year again?”
Colin shrugged. He never paid attention to stuff like that. Although the Goodings seemed to be just that, so many in the ten-digit club just tried to out do each other with their charitable giving.
“Speaking of causes, I have some things this weekend in Indianapolis that deal with childhood cancer and an address at a cancer-loss support group I helped start. Would you like to come?”
“Are you asking me to go away with you for the weekend?”
She blushed. He loved to tease her just so he could see the pink in her cheeks. “Not exactly. You do have to get your own room and everything.”
“I’d love to come.” Colin finished with the lid of his jack-o-lantern and pulled it off.
Candace did the same with hers and started scooping the slimy pumpkin guts into a bowl. “Oh, rats. I got it on my scarf.” She went over to the sink and rinsed her hands before taking off the scarf and rinsing it.
Colin tried not to stare. She looked just like he imagined, only prettier. He double-checked his hands for pumpkin slime before joining her at the sink. He reached over her shoulder and turned off the water. With one hand, he turned Candace toward him. With the other, he traced where her hairline should be, from the top of her head to her ear. Then he kissed the top of her head, his kisses following the same trail his fingers had. “Thank you.” His voice came out all husky and odd.
Candace tipped her head up, and he could see there was a tear at the corner of her eye. “No. Thank you.” She captured his lips with hers.
He tasted tears and pulled back, running one hand over her smooth head. “Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?”
She swiped a tear from her cheek. “Nothing is wrong. I just wasn’t sure how you would react. I thought you might be sickened.”
“Why would you think that?”
“My father can’t stand seeing me without my wigs. He has a hard time with the scarf. So I worried that even though you seem to really like me that—”
What was inside him went beyond like, but he wasn’t sure how to say it. “You not having a wig on doesn’t change things for me. Well, actually it does. It makes things better. I am honored you would let me see you this way.”
She snuggled into his shoulder, and he held her, resting his cheek on top of her head. After several minutes, Candace stepped back. “It makes things better?”
“It is like you have let me into this secret part of you. It isn’t a secret that you are bald. But you never really relax when you are in a wig. Especially one that itches like the one you had on the other night at the symphony.”
“You noticed?”
“I hoped yo
u would take it off in the car on the way home so you could get some relief.”
“Is that why you were so careful not to touch it when we kissed?”
“I didn’t know if it would make it worse. Next time when your hair is bothering you, just take it off.”
“I will.” Candace reached for his hand. “We’d better finish these pumpkins.”
She didn’t put on a scarf the rest of the night. They put the pumpkins out on her deck, where they would stay cold and hopefully not rot.
After they cleaned up, they sat on the couch.
“I’m so glad my baldness didn’t put you off. You know, if you come with me you will see little kids, four-year-olds and even younger, whose heads resemble mine. I take my wig off a lot, especially when talking with the teen girls. They tend to feel the loss of their hair more keenly than the other children.”
Colin rubbed his hand over his own hair. “Should I shave mine?”
“No. You are not a survivor. It will be more impressive that I can introduce you as my boyfriend. When you look at me that way, it will make all the girls giggle.”
What am I doing wrong now? “Look at you how?”
“Like you want me to shut up so you can kiss me silly.”
Colin had no clue how she knew that was precisely what he wanted to do, but since she didn’t seem averse to the idea, he kissed her. A thought stopped him. “Am I really your boyfriend?”
“You had better be. I don’t kiss acquaintances like this.” She pulled him into another kiss.
Boyfriend. That meant she was his girlfriend? He thought of stopping and asking if he was right, but that would mean stopping the sensations running through his body at rates he couldn’t comprehend. Besides, he was pretty sure her kiss was the answer to his unasked question.