Woman in Black (36 page)

And yet the more modest the home, it seemed, the more fanciful the holiday display. Electrified reindeer romped across rooftops. Huge blow-up Santas and snowmen bobbed on lawns, and giant plastic candy canes lined concrete walkways. And everywhere there were lights: colored lights, blinking lights, the tiny white ones called fairy lights. Every window and eave, every bush and tree and blade of grass, it seemed, was outlined in lights.

At last he pulled to a stop in front of a small, run-down house strung with so many lights it might have been midday for the glow they cast, a glow that spread to the opposite side of the street and halfway down the block on either side. In the center of it all, amid the strings of lights zigzagging everywhere like a mad science experiment gone awry, was a Nativity scene, dramatically lit from above and below. Not just any Nativity scene but one of such beauty and artistry that it took Concepción's breath away. Each life-sized figure was hand-carved from wood and painted in a style that was amazingly lifelike. There were Mary and Joseph, bent over the infant Jesus in his cradle, and the three wise men astride their donkeys, along with a host of other barnyard creatures—pigs, cows, goats, chickens. And hovering over it all, suspended from an overhanging branch, the angel Gabriel, his wings outspread.

“It's beautiful,” she said in a hushed whisper. “Whose is it?”

“The owner of this house, a man named Ignacio Fuentes,” Jesús answered. “It's taken him more than ten years to carve those figures. Each Christmas, he adds a new one. And each year, more and more people come to admire his work. At first it was just the people in this neighborhood. But now they come from all over the city. There was even a write-up about it in the paper.”

They got out and walked over to the fence, where they stood in silence admiring the Nativity scene. When she finally turned to Jesús, her eyes were swimming with tears. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That this would be the perfect gift.”

Just moments before, she'd been so exhausted all she could think about was the warm bed waiting for her at home. Now, seeing this—this
miracle
—she felt, for the first time since her daughter's death, something akin to hope. Hope that she would one day find a way to get past her grief.

Jesús just smiled and slipped an arm around her waist. They stood that way for a little while longer, linked in companionable silence, seemingly the only living creatures out and about at this hour, except for a cat that streaked past before disappearing into the shrubbery.

Then, before she knew it, he was kissing her. Jesús's lips were soft against hers, as if he knew to tread gently where no man had gone in more years than she could count. It felt strange and yet at the same time strangely familiar. Not just as if they'd done this before but as if they'd been doing it for years.

He drew back to murmur in her ear, “You are
my
gift. From the very first moment I laid eyes on you, asleep underneath that palm tree, I knew you'd been sent to me from heaven.”

She was moved but unable to respond in kind, so she only gave a little laugh and said, thinking of her ordeal in the desert, “More like the fires of hell.”

He smiled. “All the more reason to cherish you.”

She pulled away from him, shaking her head with regret. “If you're asking me to stay, I'm afraid I can't do that,” she told him. But even as she spoke, a part of her wished she could remain here forever with Jesús. That she could put the past behind her and leave the dead to rest.

Even as he lowered his head in resignation, she saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Yes, but that doesn't mean you can't come back. Will you at least think about it?”

She gave a slow nod, careful to add, “I can't make any promises.”

He pondered this for a moment, his eyes searching her face, before he heaved another sigh. “
Está bien
,” he said. “Just know that when all this is over, I'll be waiting for you.”

A light chill danced through her at the thought. She realized that she would miss Jesús more than she would have thought possible, given the relatively short time she'd known him. A realization she recognized, in some deep part of her, as the first stirrings of love.

And Jesús felt the same way about her.

For a brief moment, she allowed that knowledge to shine through her in all its glory, like the lights casting their glow around her. Once more, she was tempted to let her journey end here, to remain in LA with Jesús, where she would be loved and cared for. But that was impossible, she knew.

She couldn't give up now, not when she'd come so far already.

13

Lila was walking down Main Street, on her way to pick up the dry cleaning, when a sign in the window of Tarkington's Travel—
“HELP WANTED”
—caused her to slow to a halt. She lingered on the sidewalk, her heart doing a little shuffle step. Dare she inquire inside? What would be the harm in that? But she hadn't forgotten the sting of all those previous rejections and didn't feel like subjecting herself to more disappointment, especially not on a day like today, when she was already suffering from the brutal weather and had a whole list of other things to do.

She was about to move on when she caught sight of a poster inside, showing a happy couple strolling along a secluded tropical beach. A memory surfaced—her and Gordon in Aruba, Gordon teasing her for being spooked by a large fish that she'd mistaken for a shark while out snorkeling—one that in the old days would have brought a smile but now only made her feel sad. Gordon was gone, and there would be no vacations from now on. The most she could hope for was the chance to make something of herself one day.

It was that thought that succeeded in nudging her in through the door.

Job or no, it was a relief just to be out of the cold, Lila thought as she deposited her umbrella in the bucket just inside the door. Though it was mid-March, winter showed no sign of loosening its grip anytime soon. Several more inches of snow had fallen overnight, and it was still coming down hard. Here in town, snow was clumped along the curbs where the plow had been through, and storm drains gurgled with melt from the salt pellets that had been strewn. Elsewhere, a freeze had settled in, hard-packing what was left over from previous snowfalls and turning the main drag into a virtual ghost town. The only other people she'd seen out and about were stalwart country folks, like old Mr. Gill, dressed in foul-weather gear down to the floppy brim of his sou'easter, and those like her who were running errands that couldn't wait.

Lila stamped on the doormat to dislodge the snow from her boots. When she looked up, she found the woman seated at the desk in front—fiftyish, on the plump side, wearing tweed slacks and a ribbed turtleneck—eyeing her with an expression of pleasant expectation, as if she thought Lila might be a potential customer. She appeared to be the only one in the office at the moment.

“Nasty out there, isn't it?” She rose to help Lila off with her coat. She had a nice face, with even features and a snub nose that made Lila think of the '40s actress Jane Wyman. Her short gray hair curled in wisps around her ears, and she smelled faintly of some grandmotherly perfume redolent of violets. “Barbara Huggins,” she introduced herself. “But everyone calls me Barb.”

Lila shook her hand. “Lila Meriwhether.” Since moving here, she had gone back to using her maiden name; it was easier that way. “And, yes, I'm beginning to think global warming is just a rumor,” she said with a smile.

“Don't I know it! As you can see, I'm the only one who made it in to work today. Kara and Janet both got snowed in.” Barb gestured around the deserted office, where a pair of particle-board cubicles, each with its own desk, sat empty. “Can I get you some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

“Thanks, no. Actually, I'm here about the job.” If she was going to be told no, best to find out now and spare herself more grief.

Some of the wattage went out of the woman's smile, but she replied pleasantly enough, “Oh, that. I'm sorry, but it's been filled—as of this morning, as a matter of fact. I just haven't gotten around to taking down the sign yet. The phone's been ringing off the hook, and as I said, I'm here all by myself.”

Lila's heart sank, but she kept up a cheerful front. “No problem. I just happened to be passing by and thought I'd ask.”

“You should have stopped by yesterday. You probably would've been hired on the spot. It was a madhouse.”

Glancing around her, Lila remarked, “Well, it seems quiet enough at the moment.”

“Come back in an hour; it'll be back to bedlam. Right now everyone's out to lunch.” Barb sighed and shook her head. “It's always like this around this time of year—seems everybody decides all at once that they've had it with the lousy weather and they want—no,
need
—to get away to someplace warm. I've booked three cruises just this morning.” She studied Lila for a moment, taking in her bedraggled appearance. Lila didn't have to be standing in front of a mirror to know that she looked like one of those people in sore need of a vacation: her hair hanging in damp tatters and her pale skin speaking of serious sun deprivation. “You sure I couldn't interest you in one of our package deals? I could give you a great deal on seven nights at the Four Winds in Barbados,” Barb offered, as though it were even a remote possibility for Lila. Clearly, Barb had pegged her as just another bored housewife looking to get out of the house and earn a few bucks at the same time, not someone whose interest in the job was driven by necessity.

“Believe me, I'd love nothing more.” Lila had been working for Abigail going on five months now, with no break other than her regularly scheduled days off. “But I'm afraid I couldn't afford to take the time off work.” A half truth was less embarrassing than having to admit that she couldn't afford it, period.

“Tell me about it,” Barb made a sympathetic face. “Look, I really am sorry about the job. It's my boss's sister, you see. She's getting divorced and needs a place to put her life, so when she found out about the job opening …” Barb gave a philosophical shrug. “Between you and me, I think it's a mistake. Not that she isn't a hard worker, mind you, but the way she goes on and on about her husband. The woman is obsessed! And believe me, if you're looking to escape to a desert isle, the last thing you want to hear about is how Cheryl Lee got dumped by some two-timing jerk.”

Lila nodded in understanding, as if she knew all about two-timing husbands. Well, at least she hadn't been turned away due to any failure on
her
part. And she could derive some satisfaction, from this woman's seeming to view her as a viable alternative to the husband-obsessed sister. “Well, if it doesn't work out, I hope you'll keep me in mind,” she said. “Here, let me give you my number.” She scribbled her cell number on the back of one of Barb's business cards.

“Thanks. I just may give you a shout. You never know.” Barb cocked her wispy gray head, seeming to assess Lila with new interest. “Sure you wouldn't like that cup of coffee?”

This time Lila said, “What the heck. Why not?” It wasn't as if the world would come to an end if she didn't pick up Abigail's dry cleaning in the next ten minutes.

“Have you had any experience in the travel industry?” inquired Barb when they were seated at her desk with mugs of coffee. There was nothing idle about the question—Lila knew that she was being sized up for a potential job down the line. She gauged her response accordingly.

“Other than having organized a million trips? No.” She brought her mug to her lips, blowing on it before taking a careful sip. “But I'm very detail-oriented. Also, I've
been
to a lot of the more popular destinations, so I could tell people what to expect in the way of hotels and sightseeing and such. My husband and I did a lot of traveling when he was alive, you see.”

“Oh, I didn't realize. I thought …” Barb glanced at the wedding ring on Lila's finger, letting the rest of the sentence trail off.

Lila felt the old catch at the back of her throat. “He died about six months ago,” she said, in answer to the question in Barb's eyes. “I moved here, with my son, to take a job that … well, frankly, isn't quite what I expected. I was hoping for something that would be more, um, in keeping with my abilities.”

“Have you ever done office work?” Barb asked.

“Not really,” Lila admitted. “But I can type. And I'm taking a computer class.” She'd only just signed up, in fact—it was one of the classes offered by the adult ed program at the local high school—but Barb didn't have to know that. “I should be up to speed before too long. Or at least in the same universe as my son.”

The older woman gave a knowing laugh. “You're not the only dinosaur, believe me. Each time we get a new piece of software, it takes me weeks to get the hang of it.” Barb leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee and regarding Lila thoughtfully. At last, she seemed to come to a decision. “Tell you what. We'll need someone to fill in for Kara in a few months, when she goes out on maternity leave. She's due at the end of May. Twins!” She smiled, shaking her head in wonderment. “Why don't I speak to my boss about it and get back to you?”

“That would be … I don't know what to … Thank you,” Lila stammered, overwhelmed with emotion. She didn't dare say more, or the woman would think she was a complete lunatic, making a huge deal out of the mere possibility of a job offer.

She was getting up to leave when Barb said casually in passing, “You didn't say where you worked. Somewhere around here, I take it?”

Lila felt herself grow warm, the collar of her wool sweater, damp from the snow, itching against her neck. The news that the infamous Lila DeVries was alive and well and working for Abigail Armstrong had been the talk of the town after her current whereabouts had been revealed on
A.M. America
. She wouldn't have thought there was a single person in Stone Harbor who hadn't either seen or heard about the broadcast, so it had come as a bit of a surprise when Barb had failed to recognize her as soon as she'd walked in. Now Lila found herself growing panicky. If she were to 'fess up about her current situation, Barb would surely put two and two together, and that would be the end of her potential job offer.