Fresh Tracks (13 page)

woman was very attractive than her brain would immediately toss her an image of the

woman naked and beneath her, head thrown back, throat exposed, voice straining. Sophie's

face would flush a deep crimson and her heart would race and she'd look around in

embarrassment, absolutely positive somebody nearby would be looking at her in disgust, as

if the pictures from her head were projected onto the wall like a filmstrip from

elementary school. This type of thing didn't start happening until two months after Kelly

had left. Somewhere deep inside, Sophie knew it was her brain's way of telling her there

were other fish in the sea and it was time to start noticing that fact, but she still resisted, feeling somehow unfaithful. Which was ridiculous and she knew it.

As if to drive the point home, Sophie found herself staring at Molly's ass as Molly walked

in front of her. When she realized what she was doing, she nearly gasped out loud, and

veered off in a different direction to collect herself. Finding the meat counter at the back

of the store, she leaned against the glass and chewed on her bottom lip while two sides

battled in her head, one tel ing her there was nothing at all wrong with looking and

appreciating and the other side telling her she was a big fat pervert. She found herself

zeroing in on the conversation between the butcher behind the counter and the heavyset,

gravelly-voiced man in front of it some six or seven feet away. She feigned careful study

of the Virginia baked ham and fresh lamb chops, hoping her eavesdropping wasn't totally

obvious.

"She'd better hope she never comes back, I'l tell you that," the heavy guy said.

He was the epitome of the word "redneck" as far as Sophie was concerned and she almost laughed at his presence in the store because he was exactly what she expected the place

to be filled with. His green and white John Deere baseball cap was filthy with greasy

fingerprints. His flannel shirt was threadbare and worn at the cuffs, and the camouflage

vest over the top of it created a color and pattern clash of eye-assaulting proportions. His

battle-worn Levi's hung too low, probably due to the protrusion of his enormous beer belly,

and she knew that if he squatted down or bent over, she'd be treated to way more of his

most-likely-flabby ass than she ever wanted to see. His work boots were crusted with mud

beneath the wetness from the snow and his hands were dirty. He was unshowered,

unshaven, and reeked of cigarettes even across the distance between them.

The butcher nodded and gave a sort of grunt of agreement, a sound that told Sophie he

didn't really want to be sucked into a conversation with this guy. Contrary to the redneck,

the butcher was neat and clean, his face smooth, his silver hair precisely combed. He pulled

four plump pork chops from the case and plopped them on the scale as the redneck went

on.

"No note, no phone call, nothin'. Bitch just took her clothes and left."

"Imagine that," the butcher said.

"Didn't even take the damn dog. Yappy little thing ain't worth a damn anyway. Terriers

ain't no hunting dogs."

"She left the dog, even? Boy, she must have really wanted to get the hell away, huh?"

The redneck completely missed the sarcasm in the butcher's tone, but Sophie caught it

and suppressed a grin. The next thing the redneck said caught her attention, though.

"Wel , I locked the damn worthless runt out and I haven't seen him since. Went running

into the trees and prolly got eat by coyotes by now. Stupid thing. I ain't spending my hard-

earned money on dog food, that's for sure. He can fend for himself in the wild for all I

care."

"You locked that little thing out in this weather?" The butcher stopped what he was doing and stared straight at the redneck, accusation in his eyes. "What the hel 's the matter

with you, Carl?"

For the first time in the conversation, Carl faltered. Just slightly. "Well, I.. .you know, I didn't want the damn dog to begin with."

The butcher shook his head in apparent disgust. "You're a piece of work."

"Hey, /was the one who was left, here." Indignation colored Carl's tone. "My wife just ran out on me without so much as a good-bye. A little sympathy would be nice."

The butcher nodded as he tossed the white paper-wrapped package on the counter. "I'm

sure the black eye she had last week had nothing to do with her leaving." He turned away, effectively ending the conversation.

Carl stood still for several seconds, apparently searching for some sort of comeback.

Finding nothing, he grunted, snatched his pack of chops off the counter, and took his leave,

lumbering up the aisle in his work boots, passing Amy and Molly as they came to take his

place at the meat counter. Sophie watched in disgust as he tracked the two with a leering

look in his eyes.

"You okay?" Molly asked.

Sophie blinked, filing away the information she'd just acquired regarding the dog. "Yeah.

Yeah, I'm good." She gestured at Amy who was in conversation with the butcher. "I

thought we came here to pick up a few little things. Don't tell me she's buying more food.

There's enough in that house for all of us to survive for a month."

Molly grinned. "She's asking if there's more bacon in the back. The cooler on the wall is empty and she's afraid we'll run out."

Sophie snorted. "And what? There won't be anything else to eat?"

"You know how she is," Molly said with a shrug.

"You two do know that I'm standing right here, right?" Amy asked. "That I can actually hear you?"

The butcher grinned as he went to check his freezer in the back.

When they exited the store, the snowflakes had thickened in the air, falling slowly like

fluffy cotton balls from the sky. Sophie started the Jeep, then ordered her passengers to

sit tight inside while she brushed it off, feeling the snow settle gently in her hair. She

looked off into the distance where the backdrop was nothing but trees. It was quite

beautiful. She wasn't necessarily fond of the winters in upstate New

York. As a matter of fact, she liked to complain about them as much as the next native and

was just as familiar with all the jokes. There are only two seasons here: winter and

construction. But this kind of snowfall, quiet and pretty, almost made winter seem

worthwhile.

Amy and Molly were chatting about one of Molly's students as Sophie climbed back into the

Jeep. Her thoughts turned to Kelly, as they so often did, and she remembered how much

Kelly had hated the snow and the winter. She complained incessantly—she was freezing,

she was bored, she was fat. No amount of reassurance from Sophie ever seemed to make

things any better. Sophie tried to get them involved in things, knowing activity was the key

to surviving the cold, gray season. She signed them up for a volleyball league, a racquetball league, a book discussion group, and a movie club. Nothing seemed to satisfy Kelly until the

gym membership Sophie got her for her birthday. That's where Kelly met her and that's

when Sophie's life headed for the crapper.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Her thoughts turned to Laura's husband. Sophie felt a weird sort of kinship with him,

having her own experience of her partner cheating on her right under her nose. She

wondered if he had suspected anything at all, if he'd felt her slipping away from him and

had no idea how to stop her departure. Had he suddenly felt like a spectator in his wife's

life? Like she was doing her own thing and he just happened to be there? Had he watched

her sleep at night, wishing he could see into her dreams, wondered if he made even the

smallest appearance in them? Had he wondered what to say and how to say it, suddenly and

inexplicably uncomfortable with everyday conversation with her? Would he have given his

very soul to have things back the way they were the first time he'd felt Laura's love for

him? Sophie wondered if he knew he was losing her before she actually went and if it had

been a tangible pain in his chest, so piercing he'd often felt he might be having a heart

attack.

She pressed her leather-clad hand to her own chest and rubbed it absently as she drove,

remembering what it had felt like. It had been months before the constant ache had

subsided, and still, every now and then, a particular recollection could bring it screaming

back. Not nearly as often as it used to come, which was a good sign, she knew, but the

memory of it was enough to make her stomach clench in anticipation and fear.

"What do you think, Sophie?"

Molly's voice startled her and she blinked rapidly as if returning from some sort of trance.

She glanced into the rearview mirror and met inquisitive green eyes.

Enough reminiscing, she scolded herself, annoyed that she'd allowed herself to drift so

far. "I..." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I was daydreaming. What were you saying?"

KRISTIN

K

ristin watched as Darby set a semicircular log on its end on the huge stump behind the

garage. Jo swung the axe with the precision of Paul Bunyan and the log split neatly in two.

Kristin picked up the two pieces and stacked them with the others on the neat pile along

the edge of the woods. It was mindless physical labor, and Kristin was glad to have

something like that to occupy her. It was perfect... until Darby started talking.

"So, Kristin," she said, her breath billowing vaporously in the air. "What's your company do?"

"Advertising," Kristin answered as succinctly as possible.

"And you are?"

"Vice president."

"Nice."

Kristin found herself counting the erratic clicks as Darby spoke. Finally, she couldn't hold

it in any longer. "Doesn't that thing annoy you?"

"What thing?" Darby looked confused.

Kristin pointed to her own tongue. "That thing."

"Oh, this?" Darby stuck her tongue out. "Nah. You get used to it."

"The constant...banging against your teeth doesn't drive you nuts?"

Darby shook her head and shot her a grin full of mischief. "It's worth it."

Kristin looked confused. "Worth what?"

Darby's eyes twinkled. "Never been to bed with a woman with a tongue ring, have you,

Kristin?" Then she winked.

"You know," Jo cut in smoothly as Kristin blushed, "Kristin started on the ground floor at her company." Her voice was tinted with a layer of pride that surprised Kristin. "She joined the company at the bottom of the totem pole. Now she's almost at the top." The axe swung and hit its mark with a satisfying crack.

"Wow," Darby said with a nod. "Impressive."

"That's the problem with the younger generation these days," Kristin commented as she stacked. "They don't understand what it means to work their way up. They want to start at the top."

"Yeah, but if the top is what's offered..." Darby let the sentence dangle.

"It's usually not."

"But sometimes it is. That's how it was for me at Langford." She set another log down on the stump. "I mean, it wasn't the top top, but it was far from the bottom."

"You work at Langford?" Kristin tried to hide the envy that colored her tone.

"Only for a few weeks. I didn't like it."

"You didn't like.. .wait. You mean you quit? You quit Langford?" She turned to Jo. "She quit Langford?"

Jo shrugged and swung.

"You don't get a job at a company as prestigious as Langford and then just leave. What's the matter with you?" Kristin gaped at Darby in disbelief.

"Why not?"

"Because you don't. Jobs there are too hard to come by. When they're offered you snap

them up."

"Why?"

Kristin caught the shadow of a smirk on Darby's face and suspected that she was enjoying

needling her. To her own dismay, though, she was unable to leave it alone. "Why? Why?

Because, that's why. It's Langford. They've got a great setup. You'd move up the ladder

steadily. You'd be pretty much set for life."

"But I wasn't happy."

"I bet you were making a ton of money. Right out of college. God, that's amazing. Most

people would give their right arm for an opportunity like that."

"I was doing okay. But you're not listening. I wasn't happy."

Kristin groaned in frustration. "So what? Who is? If the money's good and the benefits

are good and there's opportunity for advancement, you stick it out for a while."

Darby blinked at her and made a face. "That makes no sense. Why on earth would I 'stick

it out' someplace if I hated it?"

"It's called responsibility. You pay your bills, you take care of your partner, you put money away for the future."

Darby's expression grew almost smug. "Wow, Molly was right. Money, money, money. Is

that all that's important to you? Jesus, all you need is a penis and you'd be the typical

American white male. Are you a Republican, too? I bet you voted for Bush, didn't you?"

Kristin's blood began to boil and she was almost thankful when Jo stepped between the two

of them. "Okay, okay. That's enough." She shot a warning look at Darby. Kristin saw Darby's eye glimmer like she was enjoying the act of pushing Kristin's buttons.

"I'm going inside," Kristin said quietly, then took her leave and tromped through the snow to the house.

Molly was right...

What the hel did that mean? Had Molly been talking about her— about their situation—

behind her back? To Darby of all people? The thought made her stomach churn with the

unpleasantness of betrayal.

Money, money, money. Is that all that's important to you?