Outfoxed

CHAPTER 57

The storm raged for one full day. Power cut out. Those that had them switched over to generators, careful to turn off the main switch at their breaker boxes or the poor sod trying to restore power would have a most unpleasant sensation.

The transportation department of the state, playing the averages, which it had to do, didn’t have enough snowplows to open the main arteries, much less the back roads. People dug out as best they could or sat home, eating canned soup off Sterno stoves. The lucky ones who had gas stoves could cook real meals.

Then as quickly as the freak storm had hit, the temperatures rose into the sixties, the sky beamed heavenly blue, snow melting everywhere. The sound of water running into downspouts, across roads, under culverts, into creeks and rivers drowned out other sounds. It was as though the earth were melting. Creeks rose to the top of their banks, overflowing in low-lying areas.

As the snows melted the grass, still green underneath, deepened to a brighter green; the leafless trees seemed to stand out against the color.

Since Crawford Howard owned a Hummer, which suited him better than his Mercedes, he merrily drove everywhere. He surprised the Vanns by bringing them food, as they lived at the edge of the county down a twisting back road. He even delivered ten bags of kibble to the kennel in case chow was low. After a morning of good deeds he emerged from his mud-bespattered behemoth, which he parked in front of Mountain Landscapes. Since Martha had an apartment downtown she could walk to work. With masses of roses in his left arm, he rapped on the door with his right hand.

“Come in.”

He opened the door. “A rose by any other name is Martha.”

“You must have bought out the store—or did you buy the store?” She laughed, rising from the drafting table. “I’d better get a tub.”

“Brought that, too.” He hurried outside, returning with a large round black bowl.

“Oh, they’ll be stunning in that.” Martha took the bowl, filled it with water in the small kitchen in the office, then placed the roses inside, careful to have a few falling over the side. She placed the arrangement in the middle of the coffee table. “There.”

He sat on the leather sofa. “Quite a storm.”

“I love watching the weatherman on Channel Twenty-nine. Even with all the sophisticated radar, satellite photos—they still don’t know what the weather will do. Especially here next to the mountains.”

“Hungry?”

“That means you are.”

“How about a cold Coke?” He went outside again and this time returned with a Harrods hamper basket filled with exquisite sandwiches; cheeses, including Stilton; crackers; fruits; chocolate-covered strawberries; small delicious shortbreads. He carried this largesse with two hands, it was so heavy.

Under his arm he pinned a checkerboard tablecloth, which he now spread on the floor. “Picnic. Wine for you?”

“Oh.” She surveyed the endless array of treats he kept pulling out of the basket. “I’ll have a Coke with you. Let’s save the wine.”

“Goodo.”

As they ate and chatted, Crawford reported on his heroic exploits delivering food, whose vehicles were stuck, the Fishers’ collapsed shed roof.

She remarked that downtown didn’t lose power and she enjoyed watching the snow fall over the rooftops. The Episcopal church steeple was wrapped in white. This was her favorite view from her bedroom window, Saint Luke’s, and for a few hours the snow fell so heavily she couldn’t even see that.

After laughter and chat he leaned toward her. “Martha, do you think people can change?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you feel that I have changed?”

“In some ways.”

“How?”

“I think you’ve learned that younger isn’t necessarily better.” She suppressed a smile.

He blushed. “Well, yes, but I was hoping you’d see that I’ve become more sensitive, more responsive to others.”

“Crawford, you are trying.” She wanted to encourage him but he’d always want his way. The bully was never far from the surface.

“And I’ll keep trying. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I want to make amends.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I want to marry you all over again.”

A long pause followed until Martha leaned over the fragrant chocolate-covered strawberries and gently kissed him. “Let me think about it. You know I love you. I never stopped loving you but I’m afraid.”

“I promise I will never do anything like that again. Only you.”

“Give me some time.” She kissed him again.

“I’ll do anything, Martha. Anything.” He kissed her passionately.

“Well, I have a task for you if that’s true. What I learned when we divorced was that no one wanted to hire me. The work we did together didn’t count on a résumé. I could have starved. And you know, Crawford, you’re very tough in business and I thought I was old business.” She kissed him again, then continued. “I was burned. Not just by you but by people I thought were my friends. I found out exactly how I was regarded socially. So I was not high on anyone’s employment list nor on the dinner-party circuit. Devastating as it was, it was valuable to me. If I should go back to you I want to work. Even if I don’t make what you consider money, it will mean the world to me and I think it will make me more interesting to you.”

“You’re fascinating even in your sleep.”

She lowered her eyes. “Thank you, but do you understand? If you got tired of me—”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his eyes intense.

She held up her hand. “Okay, but for my peace of mind. Do you agree to my working?”

“Yes, as long as you can take vacations when I do.”

“Then I need my own business.” She sounded much calmer than she felt.

“That’s not unreasonable.”

“I’d like to buy this company. I can make it work and I’ve learned how to bid jobs.”

He exhaled through his nostrils. “Will she sell?”

“I think she will. She’ll need the money. You know how he was.”

“Yes,” Crawford replied simply.

Another pause ensued while he thoughtfully ate a strawberry. “I never really thought about what you must have gone through. I thought about it in emotional terms but not—I’ve been the captain of the ship. I can’t imagine what it was like to look for work and I wish you had told me.”

“You were occupied.” She said it without rancor.

“What I was was a fool.” He put down the stem end of the strawberry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I agree to your terms but it might be prudent if you approached Sorrel.”

She threw her arms around him. “You’ve made me so happy. You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

“Does this mean you’ll marry me?”

“Yes.”