"If she's in town let's go there, then we can pick up stuff for Harry. Patricia is helping with Harry's wine research. Just look what she's done with Kluge Vineyards."
"Good idea. You know, it speaks well of you that you are friends with Harry. You genuinely like her."
"I always liked Harry, although she didn't like me, even in high school. Then I slept with Fair, and she loathed me. They were separated, but I was the focus for her discontent, not that she blabbed about it. Harry really does have class. You know, we didn't become friends until we were trapped together at University Hall."
"Yes. I heard that was quite an adventure." Alicia remained standing. "More cider? Port? Libations?"
"No."
The television again caught their attention. The footage was Nordy back at the monastery, the gates opened. He noted that it was Sunday. The camera panned the cars and trucks parked as far as the eye could see, many teetering on the edge of the road. It wasn't a wide road. He informed the viewers that numbers had steadily increased and that the statue still cried blood. Cut to the statue, tears actually running now that the mercury had climbed. While it was fifty-two degrees in The Valley, it was forty-five at the statue, still warm enough to melt snow and ice, warm enough to thaw Mary's tears. The cardinal flew onto her outstretched hand, tilted his head, unfurled his crest, whistled out his distinctive four long notes followed by many short ones, trebled. Then he flew away. Nordy interviewed people who weren't at the statue, since he had sense enough to keep it reverent. He nabbed them at the shops. The monastery did a big business between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The interviews were touching. Some came to expiate their sins, others came to be healed, many prayed for peace or for someone in need. All interviewed radiated a hope, a peacefulness.
After that segment passed, Alicia turned to BoomBoom. "Nordy's going to get a big career boost out of this. He's improving by leaps and bounds."
"Did it bother you that he didn't refer to you as a movie star?"
"God, no. I'm relieved. That's the past. This is now."
"What are you now?"
"A farmer." She stared at BoomBoom's face. "How about some Badger lip balm? You can rub it on your nose."
"I'm not going to get chapped from a few tears and a runny nose, but thank you."
"I can't live without the stuff." Alicia put a round tin about two inches from a Tiffany's silver box on the coffee table. "Here."
"Thanks." BoomBoom smeared the pleasant concoction of virgin olive oil, castor oil, beeswax, aloe vera, and other emollients on her nose, then also put a sheer film on her lips. "Smells wonderful."
"Comes in Cinnamon Bay, Tangerine Breeze, Highland Mint, Ginger-Lemon. There are other variations. I have a big tin of hand salve, too."
A long pause followed this. BoomBoom knew it was eleven-thirty, late for both of them. "Roads will be icy."
Alicia rose to check the thermometer in the window. "Still forty-two degrees Fahrenheit. You're in luck, although there might be a few places where the road is packed down. It's the black ice that gets you."
BoomBoom blushed. "I'd be in luck if the roads were icy."
Alicia laughed. "You say."
"I don't get it. If you were a man you'd have lunged for me months ago. Maybe I do get it. I'm not your type."
"BoomBoom." Alicia's voice sounded like dark honey. "You are very flattering. You're full of energy and ideas. You're a beautiful woman. I'm not immune to you."
"You're not?" BoomBoom brightened.
Alicia laughed. "Of course not, but you've taken a year off men. And furthermore, you haven't walked down this road before. It's not about gender, it's about learning another person. That takes time. And you're barreling down on your midlife crisis, if you'll indulge me in being older and a tiny bit wiser at this exact moment."
"You aren't part of my midlife crisis. I've got three years left." She smiled. "But I see it in Harry and Susan and even Little Mim. Forty lurks just over the horizon, so they must see it in me. That shift. That discarding what doesn't work, finding what really matters in life."
"It's only a number, but our culture makes such a to-do about it. I'm not that far from sixty, and you know what, I don't give a fig." She snapped her fingers.
"Does this mean you aren't going to jump my bones? I mean, what do women do? Who makes the first move? You're driving me crazy. I don't know what to do. Am I supposed to hit you with a flying tackle?"
"Bruising." Alicia felt every molecule of air in her lungs, going in, going out.
"Well, what am I supposed to do? I know what to do with men. I haven't a clue what to do with you, but I know that I have felt happier with you, even without sex or declarations of, what, amor, than I have ever felt in my life. I feel"—she searched for the word—"connected. Like I know you. Like I've always known you. I just don't know about the romance part of it, and I don't know how you feel. I don't want to wear out my welcome."
"You couldn't wear out your welcome. I never thought I'd feel this way again," Alicia honestly replied. "And I suppose deep down I didn't think I should make a move. I was afraid I might spoil our friendship."
"You mean you didn't know how I felt?"
"I hoped, but I wasn't going to push it."
BoomBoom got up, walking over to the window where Alicia remained. "Alicia, for the first time in my life I can't hide."
Alicia reached for BoomBoom's hand, and the younger woman felt a bolt of lightning blast up her arm.
She wasn't the only person who couldn't hide that night, but for the other one, the circumstances couldn't have been more alarming.
21
Black asphalt glistened as the snow runoff covered the road with a sheen of water. Nordy Elliott, hopes raised by his conversation with BoomBoom, drove too fast past the supermarket and Patterson's Florist. His spirits remained high even though he suffered bouts of irritation at driving into Crozet this late. No sooner had he clicked off with BoomBoom than his cell rang. The voice on the other end demanded that Nordy meet him at the Crozet Post Office.
Irritated though he was, the bright lights of the Amoco station amused him. Clean and well located, the modern station seemed out of place.
Turning left, he dipped beneath the railroad underpass, the senior home immediately to his right on the south side of the tracks. To his left, a series of small shops were strung out, including two restaurants. Ombra, with its booths, was Nordy's favorite. Right now Nordy wasn't hungry. He wanted to get this impromptu meeting over with and hurry back home to write copy for J&J Tire Service.
Being a reporter, he had grown accustomed to strange demands, personal meetings, behavior calculated for airtime. By now most Americans had learned that the more outrageous you looked and talked, the better your chances of getting your face, product, or cause covered. Anyone who appeared sober, reliable, and thoughtful was at an immediate disadvantage. Nordy had learned to puff them up, egg them on, thereby getting even better stories.
Within a hundred yards the new post office construction, set back, was visible. On Nordy's left, a temporary post office had been set up in a brick building, and that's where his contact had asked to meet him. Post offices are unlocked, with the back part shut up but postboxes available to their patrons. Occasionally, Sheriff Shaw of Albemarle County or his deputy, Cynthia Cooper, responded to a call about a drunk sleeping in the P.O. when the weather was bitter. Apart from that, anyone going into and out of the building, even in the wee hours, would attract scant attention.
Nordy pulled to the back and parked. His mind returned to BoomBoom. Every single woman in his viewing area thought he was hot. A young, single man, he took advantage of that, but the one he really wanted was the tall, cool blonde. There was something about her, not just her obvious physical attributes, that pulled him toward her. He knew her reputation as a heartbreaker. He could turn the tables. After all, he was handsome, slick as an eel, and on the way up.