False Impressions (5 page)

“What’s going on?” April asked. She glanced around as if she’d just woken up. Sketching could do that to her. She looked down to see she’d filled several pages but had no recollection of time passing.

Rocky hid her hand behind her curtain of hair and spoke into it. “It’s a dang blessed tie. Two members want to vote out the local police and two want to merge with the other townships.”

A council member was speaking. She was a large woman who hadn’t taken off her white fur-lined cape when she sat down. She looked like an ice princess from a Russian fairy tale.

“While we understand the beauty of having someone local policing our streets, it’s a luxury we can no longer afford. The economic strain that it puts on our budget disadvantages all the citizens.”

Her chins sunk into the depths of her collar when she finished speaking.

Peter Rosen said, “Aldenville is a safe place because of our local police force. Our youth are church-going, studious children. Drugs are not a problem.”

“What about the meth-lab explosion last year?” someone shouted from the audience. April, looking behind her, didn’t see who said it, but she caught sight of Yost as he shifted his posture. He no longer slouched. Cop mode. He put a hand on his hip, as if going for his gun. She couldn’t tell if he was actually armed. His expression was guarded.

“Meth-lab explosion?” April whispered.

Rocky shifted in her chair. She ignored April’s question. “We’re never going to get our hearing if they keep going on about the police.”

“Don’t you care?” April said. If there were bad guys making illegal drugs in the valley, perhaps getting rid of the police was not such a good idea.

Rocky shrugged. “Not really. The state police do most of the heavy lifting. Yost and the chief do more traffic control than anything. I just want the council to quit pussyfooting around and
do
something.”

She raised her voice with the last couple of words. In response, Peter’s head snapped up, and he whispered to the chair sitting next to him.

The chair banged his gavel and said, “We are at an impasse. I’m tabling this discussion until next month when Councilman Monroe returns from the Caymans. Let’s get an update on the Ice Festival.”

The small crowd shifted and stopped their chatter.

“We’ve had a request from one of local businesses to sell her wares at the Ice Festival.”

The cape woman said, “We don’t sell goods at the Ice Festival.”

Rocky said loudly, “What about the hot chocolate booth and the chili?”

“Run by the Girl Scouts and the Friends of the Library, respectively. Nonprofits. The money goes to help those organizations.” She looked to the chair as if asking him to move the conversation along to the next agenda item. “No for-profit businesses allowed.

“Chuck’s Sporting Goods is always there,” Rocky contended.

The chair said, “He gives demonstrations and hands out free samples. Do you have giveaways?”

“Heck, no,” Rocky said. “Stamping Sisters can barely afford to stay in business. I’ll go under if I give away stuff.”

“You may display your products and hand out whatever information you want, but no sales.”

The chair banged his gavel and called for the next order of business. Rocky and April beat a hasty retreat as the council took up the question of a noisy dog groomer.

They clattered down the steps. “Well, that was interesting,” April said.

Rocky was not in the mood for small talk. “Whatever. Listen, I’m going to call a special meeting of the stampers. We’ll do samples of cards, three or four collages. Suzi can do some burn-out scarves with the stamps.”

Rocky had her phone open and was composing an e-mail as she talked.

“Let’s meet at my place on Wednesday. Bring the new stamps. I can decorate the booth with the samples. I’ll garner some attention for Stamping Sisters one way or the other. Nobody said I can’t recruit new folks to sell the stamps at the bleeding Ice Festival.”

“Wednesday?” April said. It was Friday. That gave April only five days to work up a line of stamps. That wasn’t much time to think up ideas that were original, distinctive.

Rocky looked up, surprised. “Welcome to the world of retail, girlfriend. We have to take advantage of this opportunity. What’s the problem? I once did fourteen collages in a day to satisfy a customer. You do what you have to do.”

April sighed. Rocky was right. The more stamps Rocky sold, the more money April made. She needed to fill the tank with heating oil in another three weeks or so. Each fill-up cost nearly a thousand dollars and lasted two months. The barn with its senior residents was not exactly energy efficient.

They parted ways in the bank parking lot, and April turned on her phone.

“I got the new chain saw,” Mitch crowed on April’s voice mail. “You’re not going to believe how lightweight it is. And it starts so fast. I can’t wait to see you with this baby in your arms. Where are you?”

When she got to the barn, Mitch was in her driveway, carrying
a faux leather bag. She could see how excited he was, walking back and forth. April held out her phone.

“Is that what you’re on about? You got a new chain saw?” she said. It was tough getting excited about a new chain saw, but she was trying. That’s what it meant to be a girlfriend: get excited about stuff you had no interest in whatsoever. Like ice sculpting. At least he wasn’t into stock car racing or Dungeons and Dragons.

“I did, and while I was there, Chet showed me this.” He held up the bag as if it were a prize turkey in the annual Thanksgiving hunt. “It’s so light, you’ll be able to handle it with no trouble.”

She took the bag from his outstretched arm. She zipped open the large industrial zipper and peeked inside. Whatever it was, it was pink. Hot pink. This was her day for unexpected gifts.

She looked up at him for an explanation.

He was grinning like a kid. Her first response was a weakening of the knees because his smile changed his face, making all of his features fit together in a new way. His dimples got deeper, and his eyes twinkled. The cleft in his chin deepened. She liked a happy Mitch. Liked it a lot.

She pulled out the little chain saw. Mitch admired it.

“This is going to be a snap for you. You carve stamps all the time. This isn’t that much different.”

April was dubious. “My X-Acto doesn’t have a plug. Or chains. Or make noise.”

“That’s the best part. You rev this baby up, and varoom, you know you’re alive.” He shouted the last couple of words because he’d pulled the lawn-mower-type cord and started the motor. He held up the saw like a psycho from a slasher movie and grinned.

April had to laugh. Mitch was as far from Jason as you could get. “Mitch, I don’t know anything about carving ice.”

“Homework, baby, homework. We’ll have to study every night.” He sidled in for a kiss, still revving the chain saw. April leaned back until he turned it off and then kissed him quickly.

She could see this was not a fight she was going to win. She might as well embrace it.

“It’s going to be fun,” Mitch said, his voice unfortunately sounding a lot like Jack Nicholson’s in
The Shining
.

“I’ll try,” she said. “But it sounds cold.”

“We have ways of warming you up,” Mitch said.

 

A thick layer of clouds meant that night had arrived by four
o’clock when the party started, but Mary Lou’s house was ablaze when Mitch and April pulled up. Paper bag luminaries lit up the walkway to the front door of her center hall Colonial. The porch columns were barber-poled with twinkle lights.

The night air was so cold that April grabbed Mitch’s arm for comfort when he opened her door. He hauled her out of the Jeep and tucked her hand under his arm. She pushed the other one in her pocket and put her head down. Mary Lou’s house sat on a rise, and the wind was howling. April began to rethink her prejudice against earmuffs.

“Why don’t you have more clothes on?” she asked him. Mitch was dressed in a turtleneck sweater and jeans. No coat or hat. April felt the frigid air bite through her full-length wool coat as though it were made of seersucker.

“Not cold,” he said simply.

She gave him a gentle shove but pulled him back quickly as she needed his body heat.

“Am I going to know anyone at this party?” Mitch said.

“You’ll probably know more people than me,” April said. Mitch’s ties to the town and valley were generations deep.

“But it’s a newcomer party,” Mitch said.

“The stampers will all be here.”

April had been here for stamping events, but this was the first time Mitch had been to Mary Lou’s. He only knew her through April and his sister.

Mary Lou’s husband, Peter, opened the front door and ushered them in, telling them to lay their coats in the computer room just off the foyer. It was a cozy room, walls filled with wood built-ins. Framed citations told of the couples’ success as Realtors. They’d been members of the million-dollar-listing club for years. Not an easy feat when the average home price in the valley was under two hundred thousand.

From the sounds of the noises coming from the other room, the party was well under way.

April pulled Mitch in for a quick kiss.

“Let’s do this,” Mitch said with forced enthusiasm.

The entire first floor was filled with people. The formal living room was to their left, and the two couches that flanked the fireplace were filled. People stood around the dining room, picking at the stuffed mushrooms and spanakopita. April spotted chocolate-covered strawberries. Leave it to Mary Lou to find berries in the dead of winter. She felt herself salivate.

April and Mitch followed the flow into the kitchen where he set down the bottle of wine they’d brought. April hoped it suited Mary Lou’s taste. She’d picked it because she liked the label. Selection at the state liquor store was shockingly meager. And expensive. As a girl used to cheap California wines, she suffered severe sticker shock.

April waved to Kit, who was standing next to a group of women her age across the large family room that opened off the country kitchen. The twins were nowhere to be seen. Kit waved back.

A waiter dressed in a white shirt and black pants offered them drinks. April took a sip from her glass. It was some kind of punch. It tasted good, so she’d have to watch herself. Drinks that tasted like Kool-Aid were her downfall.

A tall man nudged Mitch, nearly spilling his drink. He’d been given a drink that was brown and manly, not pink.

“Winchester, you up for a rematch? Ready for me to kick your butt?”

The florid man took Mitch’s proffered hand and managed to turn it into an elbow twisting greeting that Mitch endured with a tight smile.

Looked as though Mitch knew someone here after all. April didn’t recognize the guy but figured it was a club thing. The members of the country club seemed to love tournaments as much as they did cabernet. There were the spring and fall golf classics, and tennis tournaments every weekend in the summer. Even in January, there were Risk or Scrabble tournaments. Mitch was a competitive guy, but April hadn’t thought he’d signed up for the latest tournament. She thought she’d heard it was a video game round-robin. Not his thing.

Mitch had manners, though. “April, this is Buck Sienstra. He’s the holder of the Aldenville Cup. For now.”

Buck took her hand and pumped it. “Your buddy here has never managed to beat my team. Too bad.”

Mitch smiled. “This year I have a secret weapon, Bucko. Don’t you worry about me.”

“Chain saws at dawn, my man. Chain saws at dawn. See you on the twenty-fifth.” Buck jiggled Mitch’s shoulder heartily and disappeared into the crowd.

Rocky and Suzi came up and exchanged hugs and kisses with Mitch and April. Suzi had dressed up for the occasion. She was wearing a cardigan with a garden theme, blue corduroys and a red turtleneck. A charm shaped like a trowel dangled from a gold chain. Spring couldn’t come fast enough for Suzi.

Rocky was all in black, except for a swath of color at her neck.

“Quite the party, yes?” Rocky said.

April surveyed the room. Mary Lou’s family room was massive, at least thirty feet long and twenty feet across. A huge brick fireplace dominated the far wall. The fire was lit with tiers of candles. Mary Lou had cut snowflakes from bright white paper and hung them from the ceiling in a faux blizzard.

The end of the room closest to the kitchen had a bar top and five stools, which were all occupied. Two red leather sectionals were covered with bodies. People seemed to be standing on every available inch of hardwood. The noise of conversation made it necessary to shout.

“Do you know any of these people?” April asked Rocky.

Rocky was wearing a hand-knitted long scarf as a shawl. She draped one end across her neck as she spoke, winding the ends around and around. The wool was gorgeous, pinks and reds, boucles and mohair. April snuck a touch as the piece passed her. It was as soft as it looked.