Chapter 8 #3
Caroline was smiling at him. She was sitting on a rug on the fourth floor of her family’s store at four in the morning, in a torn velvet dress and a borrowed blanket, smiling at her husband.
It was the best night she’d had in two years.
She knew it, sitting there, with the same certainty you have right before you cry. It went through her like a cold wave, and right behind it came fear, bigger and colder.
* * *
Near dawn, the snow stopped.
Caroline didn’t see it stop. She only noticed that the windows at the end of the furniture floor had gone from black to a deep, soft gray.
She had moved at some point. She was sitting on the plaid couch now, not the floor, with her feet under her and the blanket up to her chin.
He was sitting next to her. There was a whole cushion between them. She had checked.
They had stopped talking a while ago.
She was aware of him. She had been aware of him all night — his rolled-up sleeves, his forearms, the dark hair on them, the smell of him, snow and machine oil and the same soap he’d used for ten years. She was aware of the exact size of the cushion.
“Caroline,” he said, very quietly.
She turned her head.
He was looking at her. He was so close. She hadn’t noticed the cushion getting smaller. His face was tired and unshaven and gray in the dawn light, and his eyes were on her mouth.
He didn’t move. He didn’t reach for her. He just leaned, a little, toward her, and stopped, and waited.
And she let him.
She let him come close enough to feel his breath on her lips, close enough to feel the heat off his skin in the cold air of the store.
Her whole body went toward him like a plant going toward a window.
She felt what it would be. She knew exactly what it would be.
She had known it for ten years. Her heart was going so hard she felt it in her fingertips.
His hand in Brittany’s hair.
She turned her face away.
She did it slowly. She did not pull back. She just turned her head, until his mouth was an inch from her cheek instead, and she closed her eyes and stayed like that, very still, holding her breath.
Connor didn’t move either.
Then, after a long moment, he breathed out. He leaned back, carefully, as you’d step back from a sleeping animal. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t say sorry. He just sat back against the couch.
Caroline kept her eyes closed.
She was so tired. Tired, and angry, and sad, and the couch was soft, and the gray light was quiet. She didn’t mean to lean. She knew she was doing it and couldn’t seem to stop. Her head went slowly sideways until it found his shoulder, and stayed there.
He went completely still.
Then, very slowly, he pulled the other blanket over her too.
She fell asleep.
* * *
She woke up to a scraping sound.
It was loud and metal and it went on and on, somewhere far below, like a giant dragging a shovel down Walnut Street.
The light in the furniture department was bright white now.
Caroline opened her eyes. For one second, she did not know where she was.
She was warm. She was on a couch. There was a shoulder under her cheek, and an arm along the back of the couch behind her, not touching her, and she knew that arm.
The plows had come.
She sat up fast. Connor, beside her, woke up too. He’d been sleeping sitting up. He rubbed his face with both hands and blinked at the window.
“Plows,” he said, hoarse.
“What time is it?”
He looked at his wrist. “Seven-forty.”
Caroline’s phone was buzzing on the coffee table. It must have been buzzing for a while, because it had walked itself almost to the edge. She grabbed it.
Luz.
A string of missed calls. She hadn’t texted Stephanie every hour. She had fallen asleep. Oh God, Stephanie. She answered.
“Luz. I’m sorry, I’m fine, I fell asleep—”
“Where are you?” Luz’s voice was strange. It was low and fast. There was an echo behind it, the echo of the atrium.
“Fourth floor. Furniture. Luz, are you here? How did you get here?”
“I walked from Broad Street. The plows did Broad first.” Luz paused. “Caroline, listen to me. Is Connor with you?”
Caroline looked at her husband. He was watching her face.
“Yes,” she said.
“Okay.” Luz took a breath. “Brittany’s here.”
The warmth went out of Caroline’s body all at once.
“She came in the loading dock ten minutes ago with the snow removal guys,” Luz said.
“Bradshaw Freight has the plow contract for the block. She came in with the plows. She walked right past me. She said she had board business. She went up to the mezzanine.” Luz’s voice went tight.
“She’s in your office. Sitting at your desk.
I told her to get out. She said she’s waiting for you and Connor. ”
“Waiting for us,” Caroline said.
Beside her, Connor had gone very still.
“She has a folder,” Luz said. “She opened it so I could see. She wanted me to see.” Luz stopped.
“Luz. What is it?”
“It’s something from the board,” Luz said. “It says Holiday Transition Plan at the top. It’s got your name in it, Caroline. It’s got her name in it.” A long pause. “And at the bottom, it’s signed.”
Caroline turned and looked at her husband.
“It’s got Connor’s signature on it,” Luz said.
Connor’s face went white.