Sugar Page 12

"Please, don't," Emily said softly. "Stay the night."

  "I'd love to," Sugar said honestly. "I've just remembered that if I'm not home when my grandmother gets up she's going to panic." And she'll know what you were doing when you walk in the door, you know she will. "She rises very early."

  "She wouldn't approve of your being out all night?"

  "That's part of it," Sugar admitted. "And part of it is she's been very kind and understanding and I don't want to repay her right off the bat by frightening her."

  Emily sighed. "I understand. Oh, lord," she muttered as sounds

  of Annette's misery reached them again. "The whole thing with June is so dysfunctional."

  "I look forward to hearing the history." Sugar sat up, looking for her clothes. She felt drained but wonderful.

  "Dinner, Thursday night?"

  "Yes." She found her bra and T-shirt and slipped into them. "I am really looking forward to it," she added.

  "Maybe we could have dinner here? And you could stay the night?"

  "I'd like that," Sugar said softly. She watched Emily rise from the sofa, her lovely body rousing feelings that ought to have been sated for longer than thirty minutes. She could do everything they'd already done all over again. "I'll return your sweater then."

  "Keep it," Emily said easily. "It looks so much better on you than on me. I loved the feel of it, but it never looked right with my hair. You look like a movie star in it. I'd be happy knowing it went to a good home."

  "Oh, well, in that case . . . okay." She shyly folded the sweater up with the smock.

  "You'll drive safely?" Emily was dressed again, but Sugar had no trouble recalling exactly how that beautiful, soft lounging outfit came undone.

  "I promise."

  They walked together to the back door, and Sugar stepped into the chilly night air. The drizzle had stopped. There were even stars out. "What a night."

  "Indeed," Emily agreed. "It was a great deal more than I bar¬gained for."

  Suddenly anxious, Sugar turned back to search Emily's expres¬sion for reassurance. "But that's good, right?"

  "Very good." She drew Sugar to her for a long, lingering kiss. "More than I had dreamed, and everything I had fantasized."

  "Oh. You are such a sweet talker."

  "I speak only truth." Emily touched Sugar's face for a moment,

  then jumped at a clatter from inside the house. "Oh, dear, Annette is going to hurt herself."

  "Go be Florence Nightingale, then."

  "More like Big Nurse." Emily frowned. "This is the last time she acts this way over June or I'm kicking her butt to the nearest therapist."

  They shared another kiss, then Sugar hurried to the car before she got thoroughly chilled. Emily waited at the door until the engine started, then kissed her fingers in a parting wave.

  The highway was quiet. Her heart was no longer pounding. The world seemed peacefully asleep. It was just her and the moon and the scent of Emily on her fingertips.

  Chapter 6

  Though it arrived far too early, Sunday morning found Sugar doing something she had not thought she could actually enjoy. She rose an hour later than Grannie Fulton, showered, had a small breakfast, then went with her to church.

  Whereas she had once hated and resented having to go—her parents had required it at least twice a month—she found herself able to spend the sermon reviewing her To Do list. She'd always liked the music, and today she found she actually enjoyed the sense of community. News of other parishioners, which she'd previously thought mere gossip, was actually part of a sophisticated informa¬tion net. It was the same net that had brought her clothing when she needed it. She couldn't argue with that—she wasn't even a member of the church, but she'd been in need, Gran had asked, and help had arrived.

  She met the dentist and returned the clothing with her thanks. A nice enough woman, Denise, and some other time Sugar might

  have acceded to the pressure they were both getting to "get together" soon. Denise, however, was equally polite and as non¬committal as Sugar was, so perhaps Denise was seeing someone, too. At the moment Sugar could only think of what the future might hold with Emily. The previous night was starting to fade in clarity, but there was no doubt in her mind about the high it had been to make love with Emily. Doing so again on Thursday night was an altogether exciting prospect.

  The next several days flew by. She and Gran went to a presurgery meeting at the hospital where they were shown the pieces of artificial hip that would be inserted, and the procedure itself was explained. They left with a packet of pre- and postoper¬ative instructions. Gran didn't complain about the pain, but the entire journey was obviously draining. Sugar could only imagine what Gran's church meetings and baked-good deliveries cost her. How had she kept going when every movement caused her such discomfort and stress? The doctor was hopeful that an opening would come available in three to four weeks, and Sugar was cross¬ing her fingers, too. Otherwise the wait would be ten long, painful weeks.

  The remainder of Monday and Tuesday Sugar worked on her next project, a replica of a rare bird found in the marshes of Puget Sound. It was so rare she worked from drawings in Audubon Society books provided by the client. Wednesday evening the cake would be consumed by the local ornithological society.

  She delivered the cake, complete with a brown-sugar straw nest and tiny speckled eggs, on time, Wednesday at noon, seeing it safely into the party host's refrigerator. From there she went to her appointment with Patricia. She dreaded meetings with her sister. It wasn't that she begrudged Patty her success. Patty had worked hard for it, and the leather and cherrywood office was a testament to where she ranked in one of the oldest law firms in Seattle. It was the feeling Sugar always got that the only reason she needed her sister's legal advice was because she was a screwup.

  Patty's brusque greeting brought the feelings out in full force.

  Spread out in front of her was the fax Sugar had sent on Monday and printouts of the photos she'd e-mailed.

  "We'll start with the bad news. Yes, you may have to pay a fine for knowingly having rented premises that were not licensed by Fair Housing. However, that will not preclude you from being a claimant against the landlord because he used a standard rental agreement. In it, there is a clause stating that to the best of his knowledge, the premises met state and local building codes in force at the time of construction. With me so far?"

  Sugar nodded. She knew better than to speak when Patty was on a roll.

  "He may not know, but you certainly do, that your address on your business license was out of date."

  Sugar blushed. "I know, I know. As soon as I got commercial premises again I was going to get it all fixed."

  "If he calls the health department you could be up the prover¬bial creek."

  "Which is why I don't want to screw the guy over. He's a jerk, but I'm not exactly an innocent here either. But I did not cause the fire. I had the oven on at the most for fifteen to twenty hours a week, no more than someone who preferred home-cooked meals would have."

  "Nothing is cut-and-dried," Patty said officiously. "As long as we're clear about your goal in this matter. What you have in your favor is two things. First, his unsuccessful attempt to help himself to your belongings, and those pictures you took are an excellent block to any legal action he might try to start. You were nice enough not to file charges, but you still have the upper hand in a civil action. Of more immediate benefit is the desire on the part of his insurance company to make this go away for as little as possi¬ble. So tell me exactly what it is you lost."

  "My laptop fried and the printer never came back on either. I lost some cookware, cooking supplies, books and worst of all, my recipe collection."

  "Jewelry? Art?" Patty looked up from her notepad. "Sorry, that's a no to both."

  "I invested in my business," Sugar said slowly, trying not to lose her temper. "You can't bake a cake with diamond studs."

  "So what about lost business?"

  "I've been ab
le to meet every contract, and will be, since I'm staying at Gran's. And I can pay my way there. I'm short on capi¬tal. I really need my deposit back from Robert. I could get together first and last, but given the size of kitchen I realize now that I really need, the rent will be steep. I'm not in a position to rent separate baking premises yet. I had hoped to have a good nest egg by the holidays so I could rent commercial premises short-term and hire a couple of helpers to get through the busiest season." She didn't tell Patty her hopes had also included two or three wedding-season cakes, representing thousands in income, but those hadn't hap¬pened. Other orders were more than she had planned on, though. It was stressful, keeping track of where she was financially, but it came with the territory.

  "I think I can get you a good nest egg and you'll be able to move out on your own," Patty said.

  Well, Sugar reasoned, if getting her out of Gran's house was what was motivating Patty, more power to her. "Okay," was all she said aloud.

  "It'll all hinge on the report on what caused the fire. A copy has been ordered."

  Sugar abruptly recalled Charlie's eyes and easy, open laugh. You're with Emily now, she reminded herself, at least, you will be. Might be. Your stomach ought not be flipping over at the thought of Charlie. "The arson investigator was very clear about it."

  "Then he or insurance will pay. We'll push the value of your life's work of master chef's recipes. I wish your car had been totaled. We might have got you a replacement there."

  "I don't want to bankrupt the guy's family. I didn't lose that much. I was very lucky."

  "But that's no reason why he should get lucky. He endangered your life." Patty snapped the cap back on her pen. "That's money in the bank."

  "I just want my deposit back and the money to replace my laptop," Sugar insisted.

  "We'll do better than that."

  "Okay, then some of it goes to Gran for rent."

  Patty sighed. "So you'll be staying a while?"

  "Yes," Sugar said firmly. "We're finding a mutually beneficial arrangement. I don't care how much money her house is worth after she's dead. She and I are quite content for the moment, both very much alive and well."

  "Quinn told me Gran's going to have surgery."

  Sugar nodded. "I'll be there to help her through. We're both getting something out of it. Heck, I didn't even mind going to church."

  Patty's eyebrows shot up. "You?"

  Sugar shrugged.

  "You've changed."

  "I don't think so. But Gran certainly has."

  "You're not as militant as you were."

  Sugar gaped at her sister. "Militant about what?"

  "About being different. The rest of us went to universities, but you had to go to an 'academy' Even Rose got a business degree."

  "Look at the good it's done her."

  Patty's sigh was sharp and quick. "Point acknowledged. Still, you seem much more laid-back than you were last time I saw you. Are you seeing someone?"

  Thankfully, Sugar did not blush. The fact that she'd had some very good sex last weekend was not the reason they weren't yelling at each other right now. "Yes, but it's not serious yet. I just had my feet kicked out from under me, and I don't know..." She shrugged. "I do feel like I'm seeing the world in a slightly different frame of mind. Coming out to Gran was the best thing I've ever done."

  "You what?" Patty's mouth hung open for a moment, leaving Sugar quite pleased to have stunned her sister for once.

  "I came out to her. I could have died in that stupid fire and I didn't see the point of lying. Gran has really changed."

  "Or she's desperate for home healthcare."

  Sugar flushed widi anger. "I don't think the thought crossed her mind when she told me I could stay as long as I needed to." You'd have never opened your door for me that long, she wanted to add. Not unless I was willing to sign on some dotted line.

  Patty's intercom beeped. She lifted the handset, listened, then disconnected. "I have to go. Settlements with insurance go pretty quickly, though the cash doesn't flow quite that fast. I should have news for you by next week."

  "Okay." Sugar pushed the notes she'd made about Robert's address and phone and the King County Fire District contacts toward Patty. "Thank you, Patty. I hope for once you'll be able to show some billable hours from a family member."

  Patty's smile relaxed slightly. "If I collect from him, you can bet the firm will too."

  On the way back to Gran's she stopped again at the Internet cafe. So far it was proving a necessary daily trip, but useful in that it got her out of the house, giving Gran some alone time. She found another order from a previous client, an e-mail from Julie, Emily's caterer, asking her to confirm a subcontracted price for a graduation cake, and several more notes from friends expressing best wishes in her recovery from the fire.

  There was also an e-mail from CBRONSON. Sugar was tem¬porarily stunned at the way her stomach went to knots. It was just hero worship, she told herself. A beautiful woman in uniform— obviously she had a previously unknown fetish for that sort of thing. Charlie hadn't been in uniform at Gran's house, she reminded herself, but she pushed away the disquieting thought. She was with Emily. Sort of. Emily hadn't called and Sugar had felt awkward making contact when their date was already confirmed.

  She shouldn't be thinking about talking to Charlie again for any¬thing but business, should she?

  The note from Charlie read, "Sorry I had to rush out just when the conversation was getting so interesting. Did you decide what you needed for the cake? Let me know if there's anything else I can tell you."

  An unbidden imp inside her wanted to write back, "Tell me how you like to kiss, tell me if you like to flirt and touch for hours, tell me everything about yourself." She controlled the urge, but the effort was so unsettling she decided she wouldn't answer until tomorrow.

  Gran was at the kitchen table drinking tea when Sugar got home. Spread out in front of her were the papers from the doctor and hospital. After greetings, Gran observed, "It says here that side effects of this surgery could include infection and heterotopic bone formation, whatever that is. And there's the other one, right there."

  Sugar followed Gran's pointing finger. She felt a little chill at the black letters on the cold white paper: Death. "They have to say that. It's for insurance, I suppose." She squeezed her grand¬mother's shoulder. "Your doctor said you're healthy as a horse, and one of the best candidates your age he's seen for the surgery. I think you're going to do really well."

  "I'm praying that if it's my time I go without a lot of bother and expense and pain."

  Sugar didn't quite know what to say, since she certainly under¬stood where Gran was coming from, so she squeezed her shoulder again before going to make her own tea. "I remember when I had my wisdom teeth out, you brought me flower-drop soup." The memory dated to shortly before her parents' deaths in a freeway pileup. That entire summer had been an unhappy one, to say the least.

  "You always liked it. Thought it was the fanciest thing you'd

  ever had. I didn't have the heart to tell you I was sneaking some eggs into you."

  Sugar laughed. Growing up she'd been convinced eggs would make her fat, even though she liked them. "It worked, I have to admit it. I thought I'd make you some when you get home and feel like having a little bit of something. What else would you like to have on hand? If they get an opening in the next few weeks we should be prepared, don't you think?"

  They chatted companionably throughout the afternoon, and Sugar was interrupted several times by calls on her cell phone. They were all for business, until one just after dinner proved to be Tree.

  She'd forgotten Tree was going to call, but the moment she heard Tree's voice she recalled the kind, serious and gentle look in Tree's eyes when she'd forewarned Sugar of her intention to ask to get together for coffee.

  After inquiring how Sugar was doing, and her grandmother, the car, her belongings and ongoing business affairs, Tree asked qui¬etly, "And how is the allergy
to coffee?"

  Sugar realized if she turned Tree down, it would be a rude brush-off. Tree was too nice for that. "I'm not allergic. I'd certainly like to talk."

  Tree's voice warmed further. "Good. Yes I'd like that, too. I was trying to wait until the weekend—give you some time to settle in. But I have to admit that when I was looking at this long evening ahead, I thought of you and hoped you hadn't developed that allergy."

  Sugar laughed. "Not at all. It's hard to believe that it happened a week ago."

  "I don't suppose you'd like coffee and dessert tonight? You probably have plans."

  "You know, that does sound good." And it did, Sugar thought. She'd forgotten how calming it was just to talk to Tree. It wasn't the least bit like being around Charlie, or even Emily. Tree would certainly make a good friend.

  They agreed on a popular coffee-and-pastry bar near Redmond Town Center. It wouldn't be too congested on a weeknight, Sugar thought. She changed into her favorite black slacks but hesitated over a choice of shirts. Usually she'd grab the cleanest tee and bolt, but Noor's nagging about her hair and Emily's "Elizabeth Taylor's eyes" remark of last Saturday had had Sugar gazing into the mirror more than usual.

  Her hair was an unruly mess, most of the time. Naturally curly, its undistinguished color was hardly the inspiration of poets. She was too busy to keep it highlighted, but trimmed was probably not a bad idea. She had to finish this week's order tomorrow, but maybe a quick visit to a haircutter first thing in the morning might work. She'd look that much better for her date with Emily. In the meantime, a purple hair scrunchie tidied her appearance. But it also meant whatever shirt she wore would be more noticeable.

  She hated dithering over her appearance. Nothing she did made much difference anyway, and most days there wasn't time to primp. Still, she was meeting an exceedingly beautiful woman in a public place, and even if anyone with a brain would smartly spend her time looking at Tree, she oughtn't embarrass Tree with a scruffy T-shirt. Digging into the pile, she found a polo shirt in soft, clinging jersey and ribbon trim on the collar and sleeves. She'd bought it at Noor's urging but had never thought it looked as good as Noor said.