The Snow Globe (9 page)

Sure enough, later that evening, after Bryn was in bed and Suzanne and Guy were settled on the couch with a fire in the gas fireplace and another glass of wine, he said, “I think we should reconsider the dog thing. You know the Lovgrins are trying to find homes for those foster puppies.”

How could she not know? Every time she came to the day care provider's house to pick up Bryn she had to see the smelly beasts.

“Golden labs are great dogs for kids,” said Guy.

She set down her wineglass and sat up and frowned at him. “Who are you kidding? I saw the trailer for
Marley and Me
. Anyway, just because Bryn wants a dog it doesn't mean she has to have one. My God, I'd like a Jag for Christmas. Are you going to run out and get one for me?”

“Not after all the money we've spent on this place,” he teased.

“We don't have time in our life for a dog,” she reminded him.
Sometimes it seemed like they barely had time in their life for each other. That thought bothered her so she shied away from it. “Who'd housebreak it?”

“We both could,” he said, pulling her back to him.

“Nice of you to volunteer me.”

He grinned, unrepentant.

“Guy, we're never around. It wouldn't be fair to the animal.”

Now his grin got bigger. “That's changing.”

A sick feeling settled over her. What horrible news was he about to announce? Was he quitting to run a home business? “What?”

“Remember I told you I was going to talk to Jameson about working from home a couple days a week? Well, I did. Starting in January I'll be home on Mondays and Fridays.”

“And what about the other days?” she argued.

“You're around in the mornings sometimes.”

“And sometimes I'm not. And on the days I'm not, a dog will chew up shoes, rip sofa cushions, and gnaw my new rug to bits.”

“Not if we get a baby gate and a crate.”

Which the thing would turn into a doggie bathroom.

“Let's at least think about it,” Guy urged.

“I'll think,” she said, “but not very hard and not very long. Bryn's too young for a pet anyway. We should wait until she's older and more responsible.”

“I had a dog by the time I was her age,” he argued, and kissed her ear.

And he'd had dogs ever since. He'd grown up with the sloppy,
smelly things. In fact, he'd had a dog before he met her. It was an ugly mutt. She'd seen pictures of Guy and Morris the Mutt posed on hiking trails, in boats, on his front porch. They were just dating when Morris finally expired of old age, and Guy had mourned the dog as if it were a child. He'd always said he'd never get another and that had been fine with her, but now, with Bryn asking, he was teetering on the edge of dog ownership again, ready to take her over with him.

“Can we please not talk about this anymore tonight?” she pleaded. “I am so tired.”

“Tired? There's a surprise.” He started to move away.

She stopped him. “But I'm not that tired,” she murmured, setting aside her wine. Actually, all she wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a hundred years, but she could put off sleep long enough to show her husband some love. And distract him from talking about dogs.

It was harder to distract herself. Her guilty mother's conscience continued to prod her. She didn't spend enough time with her daughter. The least she could do was let the child have a pet. She told her conscience to shut up. Several times. Yes, Bryn wanted a dog, but once the novelty wore off it would be Suzanne taking care of it. A stuffed puppy would be perfect. She and Bryn could play with it together. Maybe they'd name it Morris and Guy could play with it, too. Ha.

 

Wednesday was a great day. A miracle occurred and Suzanne
found another perfect house for the Coxes, and it was a steal. They had learned their lesson, and this time they didn't dither on price and won the prize. Later, when Kiley called, Suzanne was in a great mood.

“I have a prezzie for you,” said Kiley.

“I thought we weren't going to do presents this year,” Suzanne protested as she sorted through the pile of papers on her desk. Not that she minded exchanging presents, but she hadn't had time to shop.

“I know,” said Kiley, “but this is something I really want you to have.”

It was sweet of Kiles, but dang, now Suzanne had one more thing on her to-do list. She'd race to Nordstrom's on the way to pick up Bryn and get something. Maybe she'd give Kiley a gift certificate. She could use some new clothes. While she was at it she'd get one for Allison, too.

Problem solved, deep breath. “Okay, why don't you come over for dinner Friday? I'm making Indian.”

“Can't. I've got a date.”

Suzanne cringed. “With the snow globe dude?”

“That would be the one. We're taking his mom to the living Christmas tree concert.”

Suzanne could hear the smile in her friend's voice. Oh, boy. Kiles was sliding right over the edge of the romantic cliff. Suzanne just knew it.

“I thought I'd swing by tonight on my way to Allison's.”

“Oh. What are you guys doing?”

“We're making fudge.”

Suzanne liked fudge. How come she wasn't invited?

“We'd have told you except you've been so busy lately,” Kiley added.

“I'd have made time.”

“Well, then, want to come?”

She watched the fingers of rain slithering down her office window and shivered. This would be a perfect evening to hang out in Allison's kitchen, surrounded by the aroma of melting chocolate. But…“I can't,” she admitted. “I have to show a house at seven-thirty.”

“I'll stop by at six,” Kiley said, her tone of voice adding,
See? That's why you didn't get invited to make fudge
.

Suzanne hung up and drummed her fingers on her desktop. What else had she heard in Kiley's voice, a little bit of judgment? As if it was a bad thing that she worked for a living?

Her conversation with Kiley left Suzanne feeling out of sorts, but she pasted on a polite smile for April Lovgrin when she picked up Bryn. The Lovgrins' home was kid heaven, full of toys and pets. The Lovgrins also took in foster puppies, keeping them until they got adopted. This had seemed like a plus when Suzanne first put Bryn in day care there. Now it was a thorn in her side. Every day, just like today, Bryn greeted her, holding a roly-poly puppy. Was April putting her up to this?

“Look, Mommy,” said Bryn, holding up the pup. “His name is Happy.”

Wasn't that the name of one of the seven dwarves? Messy would have been more accurate.

April stood behind Bryn in jeans and a green sweatshirt, a Santa hat shoved over her auburn hair. “We only have two left. This one and his sister,” she said, giving Suzanne yet another chance to stake a claim.

“I'm sure you'll find a nice home for him,” said Suzanne.

“Guy was pretty interested in this little fella,” said April.

Guy and April were in cahoots. “We're not quite ready for a dog yet.” The puppy wriggled in Bryn's arms and lapped her cheek with a sloppy dog tongue.
Eeew
. “Don't let him lick you like that,” said Suzanne. “He probably just finished licking his bottom. Here, honey, put him down. We have to go.”

Bryn set the puppy down with reluctance. Of course, it tried to follow them, bounding after Suzanne like she was a giant dog toy.

“No, no, doggie, get away,” said Suzanne, giving it a nudge with the toe of her high heel.

April made a face and snatched the stupid thing up as if she'd just rescued it from Cruella De Vil.

Okay, so Suzanne's shoe had a bit of a pointed toe. She hadn't hurt the dog. Still, she felt her cheeks warming. “Don't want him to get out and get hit by a car,” she explained.

April just nodded.

Suzanne felt like a dog-beating monster now. “Well, thanks for watching Bryn,” she said, injecting extra appreciation in her voice. “You're the best.”

April's smile didn't thaw, so Suzanne got the heck out of there.

“Can we write a letter to Santa tonight?” asked Bryn as they
drove away.

“Another letter?” Oh, geez. She already knew what was going to be in it.

Bryn nodded. “I want to ask him for Happy.”

“I think Santa already has a home in mind for Happy.”

Bryn's lower lip jutted out and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Great, thought Suzanne miserably. First she'd kicked a dog. Now she'd made her daughter cry.

But she hadn't kicked the dog. She'd just nudged it away. And it was really Guy's fault that her daughter was crying. He was the one who put the idea of a puppy into Bryn's head in the first place.
Maybe Santa will bring you a puppy
. What was that about? Maybe Santa would bring Guy a lump of coal. He sure deserved it.

 

Kiley arrived promptly at six, just as Suzanne was serving the frozen pizza she'd picked up at QFC on the way home.

“Want some?” Guy offered. “There's plenty.”

Kiley shook her head. “Thanks, but I already ate. I can't stay long, anyway.”

Because she was off to make fudge while Suzanne was off to try and make a sale. Kiley looked so happy, so relaxed, like life was wonderful. For one delusional moment, Suzanne found herself feeling a tiny bit jealous. A nice, fat commission would buy an entire house full of fudge, she reminded herself.

Kiley set a green foil gift bag bursting with gold tissue pa
per on the kitchen table. “Open it.”

“This is pretty,” said Suzanne. She loved presents, loved pretty wrapping paper almost more than what lay under it, and she always coordinated her present wrapping with her Christmas tree decorations. This year she intended to dress her tree, her house, and her family to the nines.

“Come on, open it,” urged Kiley.

Suzanne fished inside the bag. She knew what it was the minute her fingers closed around it.
Oh, no
. Sure enough.

“Hey, a snow globe,” said Guy. “That's a great one.”

And it would look gorgeous on her mantel. The only catch was, Kiley would expect her to see something in it. “I can't take this,” Suzanne protested. And not just because of the woo-woo factor. “You paid a small fortune for it.”

“Yes, but what I got from it was priceless. I think I'm supposed to pass it on.”

“But I don't need anything,” said Suzanne.

Bryn held out her hands. “I want to see it.”

Suzanne moved her daughter's dish out of the way. “Okay, hold it very carefully,” she said, and hovered.

“It's so pretty,” whispered Bryn in awe.

“Shake it,” said Guy. He leaned over and helped her.

Suzanne held her breath, fearing her daughter would drop the snow globe. Or, worse, Kiley would start seeing things.

The snow settled, revealing the same little village and the angel. Good. Safe.

Bryn gave a gasp of delight. “A puppy!”

A what?

“Look, Daddy!” cried Bryn.

Guy grinned. “Well, whaddya know.”

Suzanne looked, too. There was nothing in the snow globe but an angel window-shopping outside a toyshop.

“It looks just like Happy,” Bryn said, exercising her imagination to the max.

“Oh, look. He's found a home in Virginia,” said Suzanne.

“No, he hasn't, Mommy,” insisted Bryn. “That's our house.”

“It sure is,” agreed Guy, smiling. “There's our red front door and the Christmas wreath Mommy just got.”

Okay, enough encouraging false hope, Suzanne thought irritably. “What do you know! A house in Virginia that's just like ours,” she said, giving her husband a look that warned retribution if he didn't cease his naughty behavior.

Meanwhile, Kiley the Typhoid Mary of Christmas was beaming cluelessly.

Bryn shook the thing again, watching it in delight.

“What else do you see? I think I see a new doll,” said Suzanne.

Bryn was focused on the snow globe. “I just see Happy,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Well,” said Suzanne briskly, “I bet the puppy in there is tired.” She took the snow globe from Bryn's reluctant hands. “We'll put him on the mantel so he can go to sleep, okay?”

“Can't he sleep with me?” begged Bryn.

“No, baby,” said Suzanne. “This is very old. It might break. We'll put it on the mantel where it will be safe.”

“Can I see Happy in it again tomorrow?” asked Bryn.

I hope not
. “Maybe,” said Suzanne. “Or you might see something else. You never know.”

Kiley stood, saying, “I'd better get going.”

Yeah, fine. Run now that the damage is done
.

“It looks like you guys are getting Bryn a dog for Christmas after all,” Kiley as she took her coat from the hall closet.

“Uh, no.”

Kiley's brows knit. “But Bryn saw—”

“What she wanted to see,” finished Suzanne. “The dog thing is not happening.”

“Oh.” Kiley looked nonplussed for a moment. “But Guy saw it.”

“Guy was playing along. He wants a dog almost as much as Bryn. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“I can tell,” said Kiley with a scowl.

Now she'd offended Kiles. The part of Suzanne that felt bad was quickly devoured by its sensible twin, which said,
The sooner Kiles learns that grown-ups do not live in la-la land the better
.

Still, she only wanted to be the voice of reason, not the Grinch. “I'm sorry I can't make fudge with you guys. Save me some?”

“Sure.” Kiley's voice was frosty.

Suzanne laid a hand on her arm and added, “I do love the snow globe. It's beautiful and it will look lovely on my fireplace mantel.”

“It's not just a decoration, Suz,” Kiley said, looking at her earnestly. “I hope you give it a chance to do something for you.”

“I don't know what it's going to do,” said Suzanne. “There's nothing I need.” Well, money. That always came in handy. Now Kiley was looking so disappointed Suzanne added, “Except my friends. Don't be mad. Okay?”

Kiley sighed and nodded. “Okay.”

After she left Suzanne found herself feeling like she had failed some secret test. She was a hard-working realist; therefore she didn't qualify for the fudge reward.
We'd have told you except you've been so busy lately
. The implication: You're too busy for your friends. Then there was Guy's crack the night before.
Tired? There's a surprise
. As if she got worn out on purpose. What was wrong with everyone these days? This was a crazy time of year. What was so shocking about the fact that she was busy? And tired?

She'd make a superhuman effort to go by Kiley's place after she'd shown that house. She could have her clients through in under an hour.

Or not. Her clients loved the house and wanted to make an offer immediately. A good real estate broker didn't say, “Tell you what. I have to go make fudge with my girlfriends, but I'll be on that first thing tomorrow.” So she drew up their offer. Of course, the seller counteroffered. So by the time Suzanne and the listing agent were done it was after nine and she was pooped. But very satisfied. She'd closed the deal. She'd found her clients the perfect house and she'd made a perfectly respectable chunk of change. That trumped making fudge any day, even at Christmas.

Still, hanging out with Kiley and Allison would have been fun.

She came home to find Guy up in the bonus room, flopped on the leather couch, watching a remake of
A Christmas Carol
. He looked up at her and said, “Congratulations,” robbing her of the opportunity to announce her success.

“How'd you know I made the sale?”

“The smug smile.”

She lifted his feet and plopped down on the end of the couch, letting him use her lap as a footstool. “Well, then, since you were smart enough to figure out that I made the sale you should also be smart enough to be praising me for my brilliance.”

He smiled. “You're brilliant, babe. Are we rich yet?”

Not with the bills they had.

“Your daughter asked for a puppy when she said her prayers tonight,” Guy informed her.

First Santa, now God—Bryn was really bringing in the
heavy artillery. Suzanne had found it easy enough to explain why Santa couldn't come through. God was another matter. And Kiley hadn't helped with that darned snow globe. Which reminded Suzanne: “Did you have to say you saw a puppy in the snow globe?”

“I call it as I see it,” he said with a shrug.

Suzanne pointed a finger at him. “No way did you see anything. You just said that to encourage Bryn and to back me into a corner.”

Guy dropped his smile and studied her intently. “Suz, what's happened to you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she bristled. Nothing had happened to her. She was the same person she'd always been.

“What happened to just working part-time? That was all you were going to do. Remember?”

“I can't help it if my business has grown,” she said. She shoved his feet off her lap and stood up. “I'm working really hard to give us a nice home, Guy, and you don't seem to appreciate it.”

“No,” he corrected her. “You're working hard to give us a nice house, and I never said I wanted that.”

“I can't believe what I'm hearing,” she said, throwing up her hands.

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I understand that you want things nice, babe, but come on. You've turned into friggin' Martha Stewart on steroids.”

She was working her fingers to the bone and this was the thanks she got. “Well, thank you for your appreciation,” she
snapped. “I guess next time I want to celebrate making a sale I'll do it with someone at work,” she added, and left.
There, chew on that.

She took a bubble bath, and then went to bed with the latest issue of
Better Homes and Gardens
. She didn't find out whether Guy had given any thought to what she said because she fell asleep before he came to bed, and by the time she woke up the next morning he had already left for work.

That was just as well, she decided. There really was no sense in picking up the potentially explosive discussion. Better to let sleeping puppies lie.

But as she got ready for her day a new concern niggled at her. She'd thought that Guy was as happy with their life as she was. Surely their happiness didn't depend on whether or not they got a dog. And surely he didn't really want her to scale back when she was doing so well with her career.

Every marriage has issues, she reminded herself as she dropped Bryn off at day care.

And every mother has parenting challenges, she added later, when Bryn pouted all the way home after Suzanne told her they couldn't bring Happy with them.

“We don't have a bed for him,” Suzanne had pointed out. “He'd have nowhere to sleep.”

Of course, Bryn had a solution for that. “He can sleep with me.”

Now, there was a disgusting thought. “We don't have a dog dish or dog food or a flea collar,” added Suzanne.

“Let's get them now,” Bryn suggested.

“Bryn, we are not bringing Happy home,” Suzanne had finally said.

Bryn had crossed her arms and scowled just the way Suzanne used to when she was a little girl. Then she'd added tears, and they were still rolling down her cheeks when they walked through the front door.

“Whoa, what's this?” Guy greeted them.

He was already out of his suit and in his stocking feet, wearing his favorite ratty sweats in honor of fight night. Another hour and the bonus room would be a rocking place, with men shouting at the TV screen, punching the air with their fists, and spilling beer everywhere. The perfect ending to a perfect day.

“Mommy won't let me have Happy,” sobbed Bryn. “And now Santa won't bring him.”

Not if he doesn't want to come down the chimney and get barbecued by a roaring fire.

Guy frowned at Suzanne. It wasn't your normal, garden-variety frown. It was something worse, tinged with an emotion Suzanne had rarely seen, at least not when he was looking at her: disgust.

She realized she'd taken a step backward. She stopped and put up her chin. “There is more than one person living here, you know.”

“Yes,” said Guy. “There is.” He picked up Bryn and carried her out to the kitchen. “Don't worry, Brynnie, Santa will have something cool for you. Hey, how about some leftover spaghetti?”

Suzanne slammed down her briefcase. Fine. Make her the bad
guy just because she was trying to be practical. And, speaking of practical, Guy hadn't even removed Bryn's shoes, Suzanne fumed as she slipped off her heels. He'd done that deliberately, to irritate her, she was sure. She followed them to the kitchen where Guy was already heating spaghetti in the microwave—a small bowl for Bryn, nothing for his wife, the puppy hater. No wineglass sat on the counter, either.

Fine. She could pour her own wine. She pulled a glass from the cupboard and a bottle of white wine from the fridge.

“There you go, kidlet,” Guy said, setting the bowl in front of Bryn. “How about some milk?”

Bryn was still sniffling. “I want Happy.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes Mrs. Claus makes it hard for Santa to come through,” Guy muttered.

“Maybe that's because Mrs. Claus knows who will wind up doing most of the work,” said Suzanne.

“Mrs. Claus doesn't know squat,” Guy said flatly. The doorbell rang. “That's probably Clay. Looks like you're on duty now,” he added, and left her alone with her sniffling daughter and a traitorous conscience that was turning guilty.

Oh, this is ridiculous, she thought. Sometimes kids need to learn to take no for an answer and now is one of those times.

“I saw Happy in the snow globe,” Bryn said, and gave the table leg an angry kick.

Suzanne removed her daughter's shoes. “Finish your spaghetti, sweetie.”

She went to the front hall and deposited the shoes in the basket. Guy had vanished upstairs with his buddy for a night of
testosterone overload. That was fine with her. She hoped he knocked himself out shadowboxing. Frowning, she straightened the mess of keys and receipts Guy had dumped on the entryway table. Dogs. Bah, humbug. It would have been nice if the snow globe had produced something worthwhile, like her and Guy and Bryn all strolling along a downtown street window-shopping, or at the Sheraton enjoying the gingerbread village display. Or a glimpse of the living room all done up for Christmas as proof that the decorator would get to her before New Year's Day.

With everything in place once more she turned and started back for the kitchen. She'd give Bryn a bubble bath and then they'd read a story. That would distract her from her dog fixation.

But Bryn was no longer in the kitchen. As Suzanne passed the living room door she spotted her daughter balancing on tiptoe on the arm of the wingback chair Suzanne had positioned by the fireplace, one hand on the mantel, the other on the snow globe. And the chair was just about to tip.

“Bryn!”

Of course, startling her daughter was the equivalent of trying to make one final addition to a teetering tower of blocks. Bryn gave a guilty start and the chair began to go.

A shot of adrenaline gave Suzanne superhuman speed and strength and she leaped the rest of the way across the room. She managed to catch her daughter but she also caught the side of the glass-topped coffee table, lost her balance, and came down on a very twisted ankle before winding up splayed on the floor, Bryn on top of her. As all this happened she heard glass shatter and she
felt a lightning bolt of pain flash up her leg. She saw stars, she saw the chair tumble away, saw the upended coffee table and her daughter's startled expression, and the snow globe in Bryn's hands churning up a white cloud.

Hitting the floor knocked the breath out of Suzanne. Pain made it difficult to regain it. Good God, she'd thought labor pains were bad, but this—there were no waves to peak and subside. This pain kept relentlessly pounding up her ankle.

“Get Daddy,” she finally gasped.

With a wail of terror, Bryn set down the snow globe and ran off.

Suzanne closed her eyes against both the pain and the scene emerging as the snow settled inside the glass globe.

Nooooo.