Sugar Read online

  "Chuck's had a bad ticker since he was born. He's had these attacks before, but I don't think he's lost consciousness like that. Charlie's real worried. Damn thing to happen today of all days."

  Sugar would have asked more questions, but a claxon warning sounded and the dispirited group of firefighters leapt into action. It was only another minute before Sugar found herself completely alone. The only thing she could think to do was tidy up the room, mop up the scattered remains of the cake and restack the gifts. She hoped Charlie and her father would get to see them opened soon.

  Chapter 9

  "Oh, the poor man," Gran said, her eyes alight with sympathy. "I'll add him to my prayer list tonight. What a shock."

  "I hope he's okay." Sugar had called the firehouse twice, but so far no one had answered. "Charlie must be frantic."

  She was trying to keep the alarm out of her voice, figuring that so close to Gran's own surgery, unnecessary thoughts of mortality weren't precisely helpful to Gran. Still, she could not shake the stricken look on Charlie's face from her mind. To this day she remembered the numb disbelief she'd felt when Patty had arrived to tell her their parents had died. Poor Patty, she suddenly thought, to have to bear that kind of news to a sister almost twelve years younger. Patty had mothered them all through the shock. She hoped Charlie wasn't having to face it, not when her father was on the edge of a new life where they could spend more time together.

  "What would you like to do tonight, Gran? I finally have no

  work to do. It's hard to believe." If she'd been entering the contest she'd have been still working on the placemat portion, but nearly done.

  "Truthfully, I think I'd like to read and pray, dear. And you have a computer to buy, don't you?"

  "Oh." Sugar had completely forgotten about her ability to spend money. "Are you sure?" She wasn't certain she wanted to leave her grandmother alone.

  "Just get me to my bedroom and I'll take it from there."

  "You'll use the walker while I'm gone?"

  "Yes, of course," Gran said, irritated. "I hate that thing, though."

  "I know, but you promise, right?"

  "Yes, yes."

  "Swear on a stack of Bibles?"

  "Get on with you," Gran snapped, then she laughed. "Bring me a stack and I'll swear. I'd do nearly anything to get you to touch one."

  "I'll carry yours for you tomorrow," Sugar promised. "Will that do?"

  "It'll do very nicely. Oh, this is getting much too hard," Gran said as Sugar slowly lifted her to her feet. "The surgery is coming not a moment too soon."

  After fifteen minutes in the megastore outlet where she hoped to find a good deal, Sugar decided the entire day had been too sur¬real to make up her mind about something so important. She wrote down some price information, glanced at photo-quality printers, then left, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

  Gran had wanted the evening to herself, so Sugar didn't want to return home so quickly. She had no idea what movies were playing, or if any of them were any good. She wanted to find out if Charlie's father was okay, but the firehouse phone still clicked over to an answering machine. Noor didn't answer her phone either.

  She thought of Tree, then, and was happy to reach a real live human being. "I don't suppose you're free for a simple dinner?"

  "Hey, I'd love one. I was just heading home. I'm in Issaquah. Where are you?"

  "Bellevue, but traffic is starting to get bad. Want to meet halfway?"

  They agreed on a salad bar off 150th, and Sugar spent the next twenty minutes getting there. She still made it ahead of Tree, so she gathered a plateful of healthy things she knew were good for her along with a large slab of cheese bread chosen precisely because it was not. She dug in, certain Tree wouldn't mind that she hadn't waited.

  Tree joined her shortly, her plate also a balancing act between healthy choices and indulgences, like hot muffins. "This was a great idea, thank you. I love your hair."

  "Do you? It still feels funny. The broccoli salad is good."

  "It looked it. Did you see the shrimp bisque? That's my next stop. So what's up? Hair looks great but you look wiped out."

  "It's been a heck of a day." Sugar started with the news of Charlie's father but hadn't even finished before Tree had her cell phone out.

  "Let's find out. You just have to know who to call." She pressed a few buttons, then said briskly, "Dispatch? This is Gantry Racine, two-oh-oh-four-nine. I need a hospital destination for an emer¬gency transit. Bronson, Charles. About three-thirty this afternoon. Oh, got it? Hope National? Can you give me the admissions desk number? Thank you."

  "Hope National is where my grandmother will be tomorrow," Sugar said when Tree clicked her cell phone shut.

  As she dialed again, Tree said, "I know he has a heart condition. Charlie must be beside herself. I can't tell you how surprised I was the day of the fire to hear her mention that her mother had called."

  Sugar dimly remembered that. "She and her father seem so close."

  "Like bread and butter." Abruptly speaking into the phone,

  Tree said, "This is Gantry Racine from King County Social. I want to check on the status of an afternoon admission. Two-oh-oh-four-nine. Bronson, Charles. Really?" She looked up at Sugar with a hopeful smile. "Thank you. No, nothing for the file." She clicked the phone shut. "Critical but improving."

  Sugar heaved a huge sigh of relief. "He was so lifeless when they left. I hope he recovers well. I'll see if I can visit him tomor¬row."

  They finished their meal as Sugar shared her worries about her grandmother. She also explained about the necessity of withdraw¬ing from the Seattle Eats competition.

  Tree was wonderfully sympathetic. "Wasn't that one of the things the producer was going to help with?"

  "Well..." Sugar took a deep breath and found herself explain¬ing all about Emily. Tree looked alarmed, then surprised, then most certainly a little bit angry.

  "How could she not understand that your grandmother came first?"

  "I'm not sure she does, even though she apologized. It made me realize that even though we have this real passionate thing between us, I couldn't see myself in a future with her that had any substance to it. It's her world, but I don't think I can live in it and still be me."

  "Your grandmother's surgery likely saved you a lot of time and heartbreak, figuring that out now and not five years from now."

  "I hadn't thought of it that way. I'm not sure that's what I was supposed to get out of it." Sugar gave a rueful laugh. "Anyway, when Emily was leaving, Charlie saw us kissing good-bye and she was—I don't know. Like she was disappointed in me."

  "Really? Why would she be?"

  Her face now flaming, Sugar explained about the blown-out fuse, the almost kiss and the unmistakable flirtation they had shared. "Maybe she thought that had set us up for more, and therefore my seeing someone else was against the rules."

  "Stupid rules, then. She wants to date you, and be exclusive, she can say so instead of stalking around in those boots of hers."

  Sugar actually laughed. "How did you know she was wearing boots?"

  "She really was?" Tree grinned. "She's got it bad for you, then. She doesn't wear those boots for just anybody."

  "Maybe she was headed for a date."

  "That's my point, maybe she was."

  Sugar was put out at the thought. "Well, if she wanted a date with me, she ought to have called. I'm not just available any old time."

  "Now that," Tree said, her dark eyes twinkling, "is exactly what you need to tell Ms. Bronson next time you see her. Charlie's an intelligent woman, but subtlety is not her strong point."

  "She must be so worried."

  "I'll bet she is," Tree agreed.

  Sugar kept fighting the urge to cry, but she didn't know why. Charlie's dad was going to be okay. She found herself reflecting on her parents' death again.

  "Hey, where'd you go?" Tree looked at Sugar expectantly. "Are you going to finish that ice cream or let it melt the res
t of the way?"

  "Sorry. I don't know why I'm still so worried."

  Tree tipped her head to one side. "Let's make a list, shall we?"

  "Of what?"

  "Reasons for you to be fretting right now. You've been on a roller coaster nonstop for the last what... ten days?" Tree held up a finger for each new item she listed. "Not one but two women are courting you, and I certainly confused things there for a few min¬utes. Now the woman you thought was all that and a kite proves to have a bit of clay in her feet. The other is undergoing a crisis of her own and you have no idea if anything between you will ever pan out."

  "I get the picture," Sugar said.

  "Oh, Sugar, I'm not done. I might run out of fingers." Tree grinned and Sugar realized that she'd not yet seen Tree look so at

  ease. She had a knockout smile. "You've moved your life. You've moved your business. You might think the fire wasn't life-threat¬ening but your body did, and that kind of adrenaline takes a long time to replenish. Your grandmother goes for surgery tomorrow, and it's risky no matter what the doctors say. You had to give up some dreams to make it happen, and that hurts, too."

  "That's fairly comprehensive," Sugar admitted.

  "So, are you still wondering why it is you feel overwhelmed and stressed out?"

  She shook her head. "Any recommendations, oh therapist?"

  Tree grinned. "If I thought you needed one, believe me, I'd drive you there myself. Just slow life down if you can. Don't spread yourself too thinly. Catch your breath. Stick to things that make you feel alive and safe."

  "I don't even know why I'm upset about that stupid contest. It doesn't matter." Sugar finished the last of the small dish of ice cream and pushed it away. "Gran could die tomorrow. Look at what Charlie's going through. But right now I'm thinking about that silly contest and I want to cry. How shallow is that?"

  "Let me tell you about shock." Tree patted Sugar's hand. "I've seen it happen time and again. A shock to the system pulls the scabs off things that weren't healed. Even little things we've told ourselves didn't matter. Charlie's dad collapsing was a shock, and you were already pretty stressed out. The contest mattered to you, of course it did. You made the right decision, but doing the right thing can be painful. That's not shallow. You'll feel better for admitting that it did matter."

  "It did," Sugar said quietly. "I had a great idea. It was all in my head. I was ready to put it all together. Now I have to wait a year, and if it hadn't been for that stupid fire I might be working on the entry right now."

  "One of the hardest things in life is learning to accept Plan B with style and grace."

  "Is that what you do?"

  "Oh, no," Tree said airily. "I never accept Plan B. Instead I'm a buttinsky, remember? I mean, you might as well blame me. I'm the one who made sure you knew your grandmother had been advised to have the surgery."

  "Yeah," Sugar acknowledged. "Tree?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Butt out of my life in the future."

  Tree laughed, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. It was sexy as hell the way she did it. "I'll try, but no promises. You know, Charlie pretty much said the same thing to me."

  Sugar had to ask herself why it was she couldn't just fall in love with Tree. Was sexual passion all that important? Remembering how she felt with Emily, however, Sugar had to admit that maybe it was. "Did she? Is that when you two had your falling-out?"

  "It wasn't exactly a falling-out. We'd been dating—"

  "You dated?" Sugar's jaw dropped. It seemed to her that one of them could have mentioned the fact sooner.

  "Well, sort of. It never went anywhere. It went kind of back¬ward, even. Friends had set us up, and the first time we liked each other enough to arrange to meet again on our own. Left to our¬selves, though, we discovered we disagreed more than we agreed on any number of things."

  "Like what?"

  "Sexual politics." Tree gave a chagrined sniff. "This was at least ten years ago, you know. We were both young and absolutely cer¬tain we were right. I was adamant that any sexual relationship that included pain, humiliations, et cetera, as part of the scene was unhealthy. She insisted that adults were allowed to consent to things that other people might think harmful. She even threw the Wiccan motto in my face."

  "Which is?"

  "If it hurts no one, do as you will. But I felt that hurting oneself counts as someone getting hurt. And in reality, in practice . . . the truth probably lies somewhere between our two positions. But it was just one of many, many things we sparred about. After the

  third time we went out, she suggested we were only going out to fight, and life was too short for that kind of stress."

  "Oh. Well, I knew there was something."

  "The story doesn't end there." Tree sipped her tea. "I did a buttinsky thing. We were friendly, friendlier certainly than we are now. I thought I was right, but I was wrong. And she told me to butt out of her life permanently."

  "So what buttinsky thing did you do?" Sugar decided that the second half of the mango-pineapple muffin she'd scorned earlier was edible after all.

  "I got in touch with Charlie's mother and suggested that she attempt to reconcile with her daughter."

  "Oh, wow." That, Sugar thought, was a hugely buttinsky thing to do.

  "Yeah. Charlie was completely pissed off with me. Then her friend Devin got into an abusive relationship and I told Charlie that's exactly what I thought it was, and she tuned me out. I was right—Devin turned up on Charlie's doorstep in the middle of the night with a broken arm and a couple of cracked ribs. If Charlie had trusted me about that, she might have been the one that Devin listened to before she got seriously hurt."

  Sugar mulled over the insights into Charlie's personality. Stubborn didn't surprise her, somehow. "So ... the greater metro¬politan Seattle-Tacoma area is a small place sometimes, huh?"

  Tree shrugged. "We work in overlapping circles. I respect her and I think she respects me now. We've made our mistakes. We'll never be friends, but respect is a good consolation prize."

  They browsed a nearby bookstore after leaving the restaurant, and Sugar acquired a couple of paperbacks and magazines to get her through die long waits at the hospital. It had been quite a long while since she'd had time to read anything but the culinary trade information online. Quality encounters with her favorite dyke detectives would be a welcome diversion.

  The alarm woke her far too early. Gran had been asleep when Sugar got home, and Sugar spent a restless night with strange dreams of siren wails and crackling electricity. At least she didn't think she smelled smoke when she woke. The clock told her sun¬rise wouldn't be far off and there seemed no point, then, to going back to bed.

  It was the first time since her arrival that she beat Gran into the kitchen, but it wasn't by much. She heard the awkward clunk of the walker in the hallway and was glad to have a light breakfast already made. Gran wasn't permitted to eat again after this meal.

  She told Gran the news about Charlie's father.

  Gran whispered a brief prayer under her breath before saying, "That's certainly a relief."

  "I'll be able to check today, because he's at the same hospital."

  "Maybe you'll be able to flirt with that tall, handsome Charlie again."

  In a million years, Sugar would never have believed that her grandmother would actually be encouraging her to flirt with another woman. She peeked out the kitchen window, but the sun appeared to still be rising in the east. "It would hardly be appro¬priate under the circumstances."

  "I met your grandfather at a funeral, you know."

  "You never told me that."

  "His uncle and my father were in business together." Gran nib¬bled fitfully at her breakfast as she settled in to tell the story. Sugar laughed and commented in the right places, but her mind was par¬tially preoccupied with the idea that during the course of the day she would most likely run into Charlie.

  "Alma? Alma Fulton?"

  Sugar realized the nurse wit
h the clipboard was asking for her grandmother. She was unused to hearing anyone call her grand¬mother anything but, well, Gran. "She's gone to the bathroom but will be right back."

  "We're ready to get her into a bed when she gets back. In the meantime, there are these forms to complete."

  "More forms?" Sugar's heart sank. She'd already written Gran's name and address fifty times.

  "For Medicare billing," the nurse said.

  "But we already ..." She was talking to herself as the nurse padded away to take care of someone else. They'd spent an hour in the financial office of the hospital providing insurance and Medicare information, then two hours going over exercises to practice after surgery. Sugar was given training on how to lift and assist her grandmother in standing—she'd been doing it all wrong, apparently. Then there had been a battery of tests, blood samples, breathing measurements and an official weigh-in.

  When no one was looking Sugar had stepped on the scale her¬self and sighed at the result. Emily was truly nuts to have said Sugar's body was what wet dreams were made of. She caught sight of herself in a mirror and didn't know why anyone would look twice. But, she reminded herself, Emily had looked twice, and so had Tree. And so had Charlie. They were all certifiable.

  Or maybe she just looked sallow and lifeless in the hospital lighting. Everybody in a hospital looked half ill, even the nurses. The peach silk shirt was wasted, and she'd been a fool to wear it to a hospital, of all places, where the temperature seemed to range from Arctic to Saharan within a few steps.

  "Is something wrong, Sugar Bear?"

  Sugar hadn't heard her grandmother's laborious approach. "Oh no, Gran, just more forms. Don't sit, they're ready for you now."

  "Might as well get this over with." Gran took a deep breath and turned resolutely toward the nurse's station.

  Sugar signaled to the nurse that they were ready, then she gath¬ered up their things in the waiting area. True to her word, she car¬ried her grandmother's Bible along with her own reading. It must be a new world order, she thought, when neither she nor her grandmother had anything to say about the Good Book rubbing its cover against a dyke detective novel.