Snowfall in the City Read online

  Chills zipped down Elaine’s spine. “What’s going on? Is that woman...” She stopped, unable to voice her fear.

  “They say this is the time of year for it.”

  She wrenched open the door of the taxi and got out. Eerily, there was no one in sight—only the taxi...and the woman on the bridge rail.

  Elaine walked through the snowy night, feeling the cold feathers of snowflakes on her face. She headed toward the woman, no longer intent on finding Tony but on trying to help.

  It was absurd, of course. What could she possibly do to help? She whipped a glance around, but still no cars emerged from the storm. “This is the busiest bridge in the city,” she muttered through chattering teeth. “How can it be deserted?”

  Down on the river, the heartbeat rhythm of a boat motor pulsed into the ghostly stillness of the night. The winter wind off the water smelled cold and harsh. Shuddering with apprehension, Elaine approached the woman. The misty glow of a sodium vapor light illuminated the slender form, the delicate profile, her features seemingly frozen by the wind off the water. She wore nothing but a suede skirt and cashmere sweater—no coat, no hat, no gloves.

  An icy sense of recognition raced over Elaine. Her heart jolted. Numbed by dread, she stepped to the chain-link fence and clutched at the cold wires. “Bobbi,” she said, obeying an instinct to keep her voice low. “It’s me, Elaine.”

  Bobbi didn’t seem startled, so that was something. Nor did she seem in the least surprised to encounter Elaine. As fragile and brittle as a snowflake, Bobbi did not move. She simply stood there, like a figurehead at the prow of a ship.

  “Go away,” she said simply, her voice clear and firm.

  “Not on your li—not in a million years. I’m so glad I’m here,” she said. “Please don’t hurt yourself, Bobbi. Please.”

  “What does it matter to you?”

  “Well, for one thing, I didn’t get a chance to tell you how sorry I am about today.”

  “Oh, that’s great, Elaine. Let’s make this about you.”

  Elaine was slightly encouraged by Bobbi’s anger. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “Then what are you doing, Elaine? Trying to improve my life for fun and profit?”

  Elaine was wracked by guilt, as well as fear. In the frigid night, she was forced to truly see her relationship with Bobbi. They’d made friends for all the wrong reasons—Elaine had “created” a media figure, nothing more. Their friendship had never had any depth or genuine intimacy. It had been, like all of Elaine’s other relationships, a business arrangement.

  “I was wrong,” said Elaine. “I was awful to you. Bobbi, please. Think what you will of me, but don’t hurt yourself. For heaven’s sake, it’s Christmas.”

  “Another work day, as far as you’re concerned. What’s suddenly so special about Christmas?”

  “Well, there’s...” Elaine’s voice trailed off. Suddenly, at the very worst possible moment, she had absolutely no idea what to say.

  “There’s what?”

  “The Christmas tree,” Elaine said. “What other time of year can you put such a large home fashion accessory in your living room and actually feel good about it?”

  “That’s only because you know you’re going to take it down. And if that’s supposed to give me a reason for living, you’ll have to do better. You wouldn’t know the true meaning of Christmas if it slapped you upside the head.”

  “Then maybe I’m the one who should be out there on the bridge,” Elaine snapped. She was still terrified, but keeping Bobbi engaged in conversation was at least stopping her from doing a swan dive into the East River. “And I do, too, know the meaning of Christmas. It’s to celebrate the birth of Christ. Everybody knows that.”

  “Actually, Christmas is not the birthday of Christ,” Bobbi contradicted her. “He wasn’t born in the middle of winter.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Well, for one thing, the sheep were out in the fields. It would have been very cold at night in the hills of Judea, and shepherds in that area never keep sheep in the fields after the end of October.”

  “What’s that got to do with—” Elaine shut her mouth.

  “Besides,” Bobbi went on, “Herod never would have ordered people to travel to their hometowns for tax registration in the middle of winter.”

  “I can believe that,” Elaine said. “Everyone knows you pay taxes in the spring.” This was nuts. She was supposed to be convincing Bobbi of the true meaning of Christmas so she wouldn’t take a flying leap off the bridge. Keep her talking, Elaine told herself. That was the key. “But listen,” she said, “December twenty-fifth is as good a time as any to honor Christmas.”

  Bobbi hugged herself against the cold. “Jesus wouldn’t have celebrated his own birthday because it wasn’t a Jewish custom to do so.”

  “Anyone with half a brain ignores birthdays,” Elaine said. “Look, Christmas is not just a time for people to be extra nice to each other, to make ourselves feel good by giving gifts. Christmas is to celebrate the fact that we don’t have to shoulder our own burdens alone, that a humble child can be our salvation. It’s a joyful thing, Bobbi, and what better way to show joy than to share it? I’m not doing such a good job giving you a reason to come down off this bridge, but here’s something I know. I’ve been awful. I need to learn kindness and generosity again. I’m learning it from people like you, Bobbi. The world needs you in it.”

  “What, more thieves?” Bobbi’s voice broke.

  “More people like you to show people like me what desperation really is. You were desperate, and I didn’t let myself see that.”

  For the first time, Bobbi turned her head to look directly at Elaine. “That’s a little more like it. But it’s still about you.” She turned back to stare at the river. “This isn’t the life I wanted for myself. I need to be with people I love, with family. I need for my life to mean something more than a media opportunity. You didn’t give me anything, Elaine, except the chance to live a phony life. Today I finally woke up to that.”

  “Fine, then let’s get you home for Christmas. Your mother wants to see you on Christmas, honey. She needs you. We can get you to the airport and on the next flight to Raleigh Durham. You’ll be home by Christmas morning.”

  “All right,” said Bobbi softly, and a ripple of relief moved through Elaine.

  “Perfect.” Elaine rummaged in her purse. “I’ll call my service. There’s someone on 24/7.” As she took out the phone, her key ring came with it. Her special key ring, the one with the silver skate. Before she could catch it, the trinket fell through the iron grating, disappearing into deep blackness.

  She imagined the small splash as it hit the water. She shut her eyes briefly, telling herself it didn’t matter, it wasn’t a portent of bad luck. Then she speed-dialed her twenty-four-hour travel service and secured a seat on the next flight out. “You’re all set,” she said to Bobbi. “It’s time you headed for the airport.”

  Bobbi stared down at the river, seemingly fascinated by the descent of the key ring. Finally in a tiny, pathetic voice, she said, “I’m scared.”

  Somewhere behind her, Elaine heard traffic sounds. A car, coming from the other direction, she thought. She was terrified Bobbi would panic and fall.

  Bobbi’s designer boots wobbled on the slippery narrow ledge of steel. How on earth would she ever turn around?

  Elaine heard a car stop but didn’t dare turn to look.

  “I got her.” A tall, swift-moving man strode past her.

  Elaine nearly melted into a puddle of relief. “Tony.”

  He barely glanced at her as he approached Bobbi. He was totally focused on saving her. He squeezed through an opening that had been bent in the fence, then climbed over the rail and edged toward her.

  “We’re both going to fall,” Bobbi wailed.

  “No, we won’t
. Don’t even say that.”

  Elaine held her breath. The shiny cold steel framework was encased in ice. Tony wrapped one arm around the pole and reached out with the other. “Take my hand,” he said. “There you go. I got you.”

  Trembling with panic, she reached back blindly. Tony took hold with his bare hand. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You’re okay now.” Safe in his grip, Bobbi turned and let him coax her along the pipe, feet scraping along. She slipped, and her arms flailed. Elaine crushed her knuckles to her mouth to keep from screaming. Tony grabbed Bobbi and tugged, until she pitched forward into his arms.

  Elaine rushed forward and hugged Bobbi. Heartsore, she took off her coat and settled it around Bobbi’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” Bobbi said. “What I did was wrong.”

  “But I was wrong, too,” Elaine admitted. “I didn’t listen to you.”

  Bobbi shivered uncontrollably. “No kidding.”

  Elaine remembered looking at the glossy black window in her parents’ apartment. She’d seen a reflection of herself at the party, with her perfect career and perfect clothes and perfect jewelry—and a loneliness in her eyes that reminded her of two empty bowls.

  The cabbie tapped the car horn. “Let’s go already,” he called. “It’s another fifteen minutes to the airport.”

  Elaine bundled Bobbi into the cab and pressed a wad of cash into her hand. “Should I come to the airport with you?”

  “No. I’ll be all right,” Bobbi said with a sniff.

  As the taxi pulled away, Tony scratched his head. “That cabdriver. Isn’t he the guy—”

  “Don’t ask,” Elaine said. “He’s magic.”

  Traffic started up again. Tony settled his jacket around Elaine’s shoulders and held it in place with a firm embrace. She could have stayed like that all night, warm and safe and protected.

  “How did you know?” she asked. “How did you know to find me?”

  “I was driving to church, and a dispatch came over the radio.”

  The cabdriver, she realized.

  “What are you doing here, Elaine?” he asked.

  “You left your gloves.” She fished them out of her purse and handed them over.

  “You were coming all the way over to Brooklyn on Christmas Eve to give me my gloves?”

  She nodded.

  With a laugh that was deep and pure, he brought her to his car and turned on the heater full blast. “So I guess you need a ride home.”

  She started to nod her head, then looked him in the eye. “I don’t want to go home.”

  chapter thirteen

  Elaine St. James was the last person Tony thought he’d be spending Christmas Eve with. At the same time, she was the only person he wanted to spend Christmas Eve with. He led the way out of the underground parking and up the block to his building, situated on a quiet Park Slope street. He glanced at the silent woman beside him. She was coming into his home, into his life. He hoped he hadn’t left the place too much of a mess.

  The old brownstone wore garlands of holly on the stair rail and around the door. In the foyer, someone had suspended a sprig of mistletoe over the mailboxes. There was a Santa hat on the newel post. The scent of bayberry candles spiced the air. It was late, so they didn’t speak until they were inside his third-floor apartment.

  He let her in and watched her, trying to gauge her reaction. At some point in his life he had figured out how not to be a slob. The place didn’t look too bad or smell like a hamster cage.

  But it also didn’t look like the kind of place Elaine St. James belonged in. She was like some exotic flower standing there, completely out of her element. But then she smiled.

  She took off his parka and handed it over. “Thanks,” she said. “I would have frozen without it.”

  The fancy coat she’d given her friend was probably worth a month’s rent.

  “So...am I keeping you from something?” she asked, surprising him by seeming a little nervous.

  “I skipped mass tonight,” he said. “But I suppose that can be forgiven, seeing as how we had to help out your friend.”

  She nodded and gave a little shudder. “I hope she’s going to be all right.”

  “Helluva thing, seeing your friend like that.”

  “I’m not sure she was ever my friend, but I’d never want to see her hurt herself.”

  “That’s up to her. You did a good thing, Elaine.”

  “Did I? What about at lunch, when she asked me for an advance and I turned her down? That’s what started this whole mess.”

  “You don’t always get it right the first time. Nobody does. How about you have a seat?” He indicated the brown corduroy sofa. His scrawny Christmas tree was set up on a table in the window, a little lopsided thing sagging with too many colored lights.

  He left a message on his parents’ answering machine as he poured two glasses of wine—he hoped she liked red—and handed one to her. “So, are you all right?” he asked.

  “I guess.” She wandered through the apartment, much as he had hers. When she studied his collection of framed photos, the expression on her face broke his heart. Glancing up, she saw him watching her. “Pictures of friends and family,” she said wistfully, sitting on his rumpled sofa. “It’s nice.”

  She deserved friends and family of her own, Tony thought. She was a good person. Yet, somehow, she’d wound up stuck in a life that was less than she deserved and more than she wanted.

  He wasn’t to blame for that, but he’d played a part. Years ago, he’d abandoned her because he felt that, without a pro hockey career, he didn’t measure up to her standards. He’d really believed that. But then he’d come to terms with the end of his dream and made a new life for himself.

  It occurred to him that Elaine was still rich and sophisticated. But he no longer considered her out of his league. Life had sent him a bum shot, and he’d made his peace with that. Now life was giving him a second chance.

  He watched the way her throat moved as she took a swallow of wine. She had the kind of face that would always be beautiful, at any age, glowing with youth or softened and lined by years. He knew he wanted to be there for that transformation, no matter how crazy it seemed and how different their worlds were. And he wanted it all to start now.

  The air between them was hot, electric. Some things never changed.

  “Elaine.” He took her glass and set it with his on the coffee table. “What are you doing here?”

  chapter fourteen

  Elaine wasn’t sure how to answer him. She clenched and unclenched her hands as she watched him, his attention focused wholly on her. Even though they weren’t touching, she could feel his warmth; he glowed with it. She wasn’t sure how to answer his question. What are you doing here?

  She wanted nothing. She wanted everything. And he would never understand.

  Silently, deliberately, she slid toward him on the sofa, pressed her hands to his chest. He took in a quick breath, then grabbed her wrists. At first she feared he was going to push her away, but he gripped her hand and lifted it to his lips. Then his mouth lowered over hers, brushing lightly and finally pressing, exploring. It was the kind of kiss she didn’t experience anymore. It was fierce and deeply honest, sharing emotions that could not be shaped into words.

  She felt as though someone had touched a flame to a fast-burning fuse. Everything welled up inside her and spilled over, as though all her longing and desires converged in this single desperate moment.

  She clung to him, her hands smoothing the big shoulders, fingers tangling in the thick hair curling against his collar. She had not realized she could feel this way anymore. She was young and giddy and hopeful again, filled with the knowledge that she was, finally, in the right place with the right man.

  He stood and drew her up with him, holding her by the upper arms and gazing intently down into her face. �
��Just so you know,” he whispered, “I don’t do one-night stands.”

  “That’s not what this is,” she said.

  “So what is it?”

  Oh, she needed him. Not just in her arms, but in her life. Not just for tonight, but forever. She needed soft searching kisses and warm flesh against warm flesh. Endless conversations about things only they understood. The simple joy of building a life together, moment by moment. It was amazing, the way she and Tony seemed to know and crave each other. They were intimate strangers who had been dreaming of this meeting for years, moving toward it without knowing it.

  “It’s what should have happened years ago.”

  He smiled. “That’s what I thought, too.” He kissed her again, keeping their mouths joined even as he walked her slowly backward. The hardwood floor changed to carpet under her feet, and she pulled back briefly to gather fleeting impressions of his bedroom. King-size bed. Old-fashioned dresser with a framed photo of his family. A shoeshine kit left out. Several neckties draped over the back of a chair.

  He grinned sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure what to wear tonight. I was a little nervous.”

  She took his hand, held it over her thumping heart. She was so glad he’d admitted it. “I’m nervous now.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his thumb tracing the line of her collarbone. “Me, too. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” He plucked ineffectually at her dress. “I didn’t picture you wearing chain mail, though. Geez, Elaine, you got a chastity belt under this?”

  She laughed softly and reached back to unclasp the mesh overdress, letting it slide down her torso and pool like fallen coins around her feet. She stepped toward him, into his arms, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw herself reflected there, and the love and wonder on her face was startling.

  After that, there were no more awkward moments between them, not even as they undressed. She felt only a searing anticipation and breath-held awe at the realization that finally, unexpectedly, she had rediscovered something real, something to give depth and resonance to her life, to fill the empty spaces where cold loneliness had taken up residence, to make her matter in a way she had never mattered before.