She quickly got dressed in several layers, including stretchy high-tech long underwear, an eight-ply cashmere sweater, bright orange ski pants with zippered pockets, and then the pièce de résistance: a hooded Bogner ski coat with an embroidered dragon on the back. Admiring the coat, she was reminded of how her interest in fashion was merely an outgrowth of her love of sports gear. She had grown up in it: horse gear, skiing gear, skating gear, fishing gear, hunting gear—just about any activity that required its own special outfit.
It was twenty-two degrees outside, but Pandy figured she was wearing enough high-tech snow gear to cross an ice floe.
She got into the elevator, pressed the button for the ground floor, and smiled, thinking of Jonny.
After giving each other goo-goo eyes all night, she and Jonny had finally gotten a moment alone. They were about to have their first kiss when the manager appeared, breathless and worried.
“I think you’d better take MJ home,” he’d insisted to Jonny.
MJ did indeed look quite green around the gills. Her turban had come loose from its moorings and was hanging by an elastic strap, resting on the side of her face like a deflating balloon.
Poor MJ! Jonny said she had recurrent Lyme disease.
MJ was so different from the other mothers Pandy had known. And when you had a mother like MJ…
You get a son like Jonny, Pandy thought as a silly grin froze on her face.
Still fixated on Jonny, she pulled open the door and stepped into a winter wonderland.
The snowflakes on her cheeks were like little kisses. Pandy laughed aloud and began running. She ran the block and a half to Houston Street, where she stopped, panting. The run had raised her temperature and she no longer felt cold.
The snow, on the other hand, was deceptive. It was heavier than it looked. It was the kind of snow that caused heart attacks when men tried to shovel their driveways.
The light changed, and she walked briskly across the six lanes of Houston Street. At least the power was still on. Reaching the other side, Pandy realized that she should call Henry, who lived only a few blocks away. She ought to at least inform him that she was heading uptown in the storm. She might be adventurous, but she wasn’t stupid.
Taking off one glove, she tried to call him. The phone wasn’t dead, but she couldn’t get a signal. The satellite must have just gone out. She zipped the phone back into her pocket and plowed up MacDougal Street in the direction of Henry’s apartment until she was forced to stop and catch her breath. With a laugh, she realized she was standing in front of a psychic shop—which reminded her of MJ, which naturally reminded her of Jonny. Pandy peered into the shop. It was empty, save for the smattering of tarot cards taped to the window.
The dark handsome man in the middle—he was the Sword Prince, and therefore, Jonny, Pandy decided. Above Jonny was a Coins card. Pandy smiled; that would be the million dollars. Jonny’s mother would be the High Priestess. And the Empress, that beguiling woman in white who represented sex, would be SondraBeth Schnowzer, Pandy thought with a start.
Pandy stomped her feet to knock the snow off her boots. Why should she care about SondraBeth Schnowzer? She didn’t need SondraBeth or Doug—whom the tabloids were declaring “soul mates.”
Not only did she have a huge contract for a new book, but she potentially had one of New York’s most eligible bachelors on the line. “Take that, my little friend!” Pandy said aloud in a witchy voice, wiggling her gloved fingers at the card. She was becoming giddy. She remembered how she and Hellenor used to warn each other of the dangers of too much time spent in a snowstorm: You started laughing, and then you lay down and went to sleep.
And then you froze to death.
A gust of wind whipped around the corner, sending shards of ice into her face. Pandy came to her senses with a start. What the hell was she doing? She looked up MacDougal. It was a picture-perfect snow scene, save for one thing that was missing: people. Was she truly the only person in Manhattan who was crazy enough to be out in this storm? And for what? Jonny Balaga?
No, she thought, grabbing on to the nearest lamppost to steady herself against another gust. She could not be the woman who went out in a blizzard to stalk Jonny. What if something actually did happen? What if she broke her leg? She’d be all over the news. People would claim she was crazy.
On the other hand, what would really happen next was so predictable: She would go to Henry’s, and she wouldn’t see Jonny after all. By the time the storm had passed and the city was up and running, she and Jonny would be swallowed by the demands of their regular lives. They might remember to call each other, but wouldn’t find the time to get together, and then years would pass. Someday they would run into each other and laugh about how they had almost kissed one night.
But it isn’t just that, she realized, bending her head against the snow and pulling the hood closed in front of her face. It’s about not having the courage to have a relationship anymore.
She battled forward into the storm, feeling inexplicably sad.
And then she turned the corner and gasped. Life might disappoint, but nature did not, she thought as she stared at Washington Square Park in awe.
The brownstones on the north side of the park were like gingerbread houses with peaked roofs of snowy meringue. Bowing down beneath a heavy frosting of snow, the trees created an entrance into what could be the magical village scene under her childhood Christmas tree.
Pandy rushed forward joyously into the snow, picturing herself on skates, whirling around until she fell down, dizzy. She raised her head and looked at the fountain. The snow was coming down so hard that it appeared to be engulfed in sparkly white champagne bubbles.
And then she couldn’t see anything at all.
She was in the middle of a whiteout.
Luckily the whiteout only lasted half a minute, but still, it was a harbinger of the far worse weather to come.
Forget Jonny, she thought, struggling to her feet. She might be a hopeless romantic, but she wasn’t brain-dead. At least, not brain-dead enough to waste another minute outside. Brushing the snow off her clothes, she realized that the tips of her fingers were numb and her nose was no doubt as red as Rudolph’s.
She needed to get to Henry’s house, and fast. She knew he wouldn’t have anything to eat; he was awful about stocking up on supplies. But she could warm up for a few minutes and then convince Henry to come home with her, since her own fridge was full.
But as quickly as her romantic fantasy about Jonny retreated, the real-life Jonny stepped in.
She looked up and saw him trudging through the snow.
She blinked.
Her first thought was that this wasn’t possible. She hadn’t passed another person yet; it must only be someone who looked like Jonny.
And yet it was Jonny. She recognized his movements.
He was leaning into the snow bareheaded, the silly goose. He wasn’t even wearing a parka, but a canvas-type hunting jacket. And he was carrying groceries. Three bags in each hand.
“Jonny!” she screamed, jumping up and down.
Jonny lifted his head and stopped in his tracks. The smile that spread across his face made Pandy gasp. It was, she realized, the smile of a man who wanted to marry her.
Ridiculous, she told herself. Nevertheless, she became childlike with the pure ecstasy of the moment, skidding clownishly across the snow to him. Jonny shook his head at her silliness, as if enchanted.
He held up his bags. “I was just headed to your place. Thought you might be getting hungry.”