“You should really market these!” I overheard her saying. “I know a ton of shops in L.A. that would love to sell your stuff.”
“Is that right?” Benny sounded impressed and pleased. Fuck, she was winning people over left and right.
“Oh, yeah. You could sell so much more.”
Sell out was more like it. I grumbled to myself in the back. Benny didn’t know what he’d be trading. Moving on up always required leaving something behind. They’d make him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Then later he’d find out in fine print: he’d get to keep ten percent of the profits, but only if he legally changed his name to The Fame! Network. He didn’t know how cutthroat these kinds of people could get.
“How are you enjoying your stay in Watson?” Now Harriet was getting into the mix, playing the charming hostess. I paced in back like a tiger in a cage.
“It’s a gorgeous town,” Violet cooed. “And the food here is so good!” I grumbled. Who’d been taking her out to eat? I’d put money on it fire warden Tom had elected himself for the job.
“We want to get her out on a sleigh ride tonight,” the mayor chimed in. Apparently the whole goddamned town was in our shop. “It’s going to be a full moon. We’ve got some fresh snow. It’s not supposed to be too windy.”
“Perfect night for it,” Harriet agreed.
Sleigh rides, my ass. How touristy could you get? I knew a family-owned farm down the way that offered them up to New Yorkers and the like. I think they charged about a hundred bucks for a half hour and the out-of-towners thought they were getting a bargain.
“Tom’s going to see about finding a sleigh,” Marty explained.
“I’ll take her.” The words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. I emerged from the back of the shop, my thumbs hooked through the belt loops of my jeans, my jaw firmly set.
“Oh, hey, Heath! Didn’t know you were there!” Mayor Marty greeted me. “You’ll take Violet on a sleigh ride tonight? OK, then!”
Violet looked at me in surprise, her mouth open.
“Why don’t you pick her up at eight?” Marty suggested.
Looked like we had a date.
§
I picked her up at eight, feeling like I should be wearing a light blue tux and holding a corsage. I’d try to pin it to her and poke her in the boob. She opened the door looking about as comfortable as I did, her mouth set in a grim line of determination. Let’s do this.
“The farm’s not far away,” I told her as we climbed into my truck. “Should only take us about ten minutes to get there. We can go for a quick ride and then I’ll get you home.” Because that was how I sweet-talked the ladies, telling them the date wouldn’t take long.
She nodded, saying nothing.
Good, it was easier that way. It was difficult enough sitting that close to her in the cab of my truck, smelling her unique vanilla and honey scent, remembering how she’d climbed up on my lap on this exact seat. I didn’t need to add to it hearing her voice, the light burst of her laughter, the way she teased me like she knew me all too well. Better to sit in silence.
We got to the family farm soon enough, and Steve rigged us up in a sleigh straight out of a Victorian era romance. He even gave us a couple of wool blankets with a wink.
“You keep each other warm now, you hear?”
I grumbled and grudgingly took them.
“You know where to go, Heath? Up and over the pastures? We’ve got a path through the woods, then the orchard.”
“Yeah, got it.” I knew the whole area well, just like everyone who lived out here. Now I was about to show all its treasures to Violet.
Steve and I hitched up the horse. We climbed up into the sleigh and settled ourselves on the bench. I unfolded the blankets and put them over our laps. Just doing what I’d been told. Violet took out a knit wool hat and pulled it down over her head.
“You buy that in L.A.?” I had to tease. A pom pom on top, braids hanging down from the ear flaps and reindeer knit all around it in a pattern, I knew she had to have bought it in town.
“I got it from Sally,” she said, crossing her arms against her chest and looking forward. Not. Flirting.
“First name basis, are we?”
“I’m getting to know people here, yes.”
“Like Tom?”
“Yes, like Tom. And others. You might be surprised to know not everyone hates me.”
“They don’t understand what you’re selling the way I do.”
“Oh, right, I forgot. You alone see through me and understand my wicked ways.”
I flicked the reigns and made a click, letting the horse know we were ready. Steve waved at us from his front door as we headed off. The horse seemed to know the way well. He barely needed any encouragement.
The night settled in around us, quiet and clear. The full moon lit up the winter landscape, making the snow glitter and glow. During the daytime, birds chirped and cars passed. But tonight, we had it all to ourselves.
We set out across the pasture, the only sound the clop of the horse in the windless night. To the right, the Mad River lay in a frozen twist, black and glassy where the snow had been blown away. One of the covered bridges for which Vermont was famous stretched out ahead, the old wood painted a bright red each year.
“I love those covered bridges,” Violet murmured, almost as if she were speaking to herself.
“Vermont has more than any other state.”
“Really? And are they just decorative? Or is there a reason for them?”
“A bridge lasts longer if it’s covered up. Winters are harsh here. A bridge gets eaten up in ten, fifteen years if it’s not covered.”
“They’re like little farmhouses you can drive through,” she marveled.
I could feel the warmth of her next to me on the sleigh, underneath the blankets. The horse was tame enough I could hold the reigns with one hand and free up an arm to wrap around her, bring her closer. But I didn’t. I used both hands to guide the horse onto a path through the woods, cleared wide enough for the sleigh.
I wasn’t a religious man, but something about the woods at night always struck me. Surrounded by the crystal quiet, the ancient oaks and maples and pines stretching their way up to the sky, it reminded you how small you were. How insignificant your troubles were, in comparison with the great world beyond.
“It’s so beautiful here.” Violet sounded amazed, her breath making a visible puff in the chilly air.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“It’s gorgeous.”
I nodded. I knew I could tease her, could easily fall back into the banter we’d used to interact up until now. But somehow my heart wasn’t in it. She sounded so sincere.
“It’s almost like a church,” she went on, surprising me. “Like a really old one with high, arching ceilings.” She looked up as she spoke, gazing at the bower of tree limbs overhead. Her cheeks looked rosy and who knew she could look so good in a knit hat with reindeers dancing all around it? But she did, good enough to kiss and pull that hat right off so I could thread my fingers through that silky hair of hers again.
We emerged from the woods, the clomping of the horse, the shushing of the sleigh still the only sounds in our world. Up ahead, I could see an old barn. A family had lived on that land for generations, but it had lain vacant for at least five years now. Buildings in Vermont needed nearly constant maintenance, and the years had done their work. A large patch had worn through in the roof and the door had blown clean off its hinges. But I was fascinated by the decay, the havoc wrecked by nature. Weather carved a more fascinating path than I ever could, working new creations out of old every single storm.
I wanted to show it to Violet. With a click and a pull on the reigns, I guided the horses over on toward it.
“I want to show you something.”
If she wondered what I was doing, if she were nervous or questioned where we were headed, she didn’t show it. She looked eager and up for an adventure. I’d see if I could sho
w her one.
I stopped the sleigh outside of the big, old, abandoned barn and tied up the horse. Then I helped Violet out, happy to see she was wearing some real winter boots. Guess there was a little country in the woman after all.
We crunched our way over toward the entrance.
“Can we go in here?” she asked, her eyes lit up with excitement.
“Some say it’s haunted,” I couldn’t help but tease her. “But I’ll keep you safe.”
I’d taken her hand as she’d climbed down from the sleigh, and she kept right on holding it as we entered the building. With high ceilings and nothing inside, no machinery, no animals, no tables or troughs, our steps creaked and echoed in the silence.
“It’s like a movie set from the wild west,” she marveled, her eyes wide. “I’ve never been in anything like it,”
“No?” I asked. “Nothing in L.A.?”