Page 8 of A Funny Thing Happened…

Tonight, there was nothing but moonlight and shadows.

Scout began to whine as if he knew where he was. Tompkins eyes gleamed with feral suspicion.

“We’re here, kids,” I said. And then, “Hey, the lights are on!”

In fact, it looked like every light in the long wooden building was blazing.

“I phoned ahead,” Jake told me. “I asked Melissa to turn the heat on too.” He smiled at me.

In exchange for living rent-free in the small trailer behind the house, my childhood frenemy Adjunct Professor Melissa Smith acted as caretaker of the property.

“How long have you been planning this?”

Jake shook his head. “From the minute I heard I had four days off in a row.”

“What if I hadn’t agreed?”

He shrugged. “I’d have told Melissa false alarm.”

I smiled. I’d never have thought of running away for Christmas, but I was glad and grateful Jake had.

Jake parked in front of the long ranch house, and we climbed stiffly out into air as cold as an ice bath. The night smelled of pine trees and snow on the mountains. It smelled like Christmas. The real thing.

Our breath smoked in the silvery light as we shrugged into our parkas.

“Wow. It’s abitnippy.” Frost glittered like crushed stars on the roof.

“It’ll freeze for sure.” He glanced at me. “If we get some rain, it might even snow.”

We grinned at each other.

We let Scout loose, and he promptly raced off into the darkness. I went up the steps, walked onto the porch, hearing the thud of my boots, the distantsqueakof the swing, theclinkof the cowbell chimes. I felt for the key, unlocked the door, pushed it open on a long, warmly lit room. It was like walking into a fairytale. Or the past.

For a moment I just stood there and let the freight train of memories rush back…summers when I was a kid, a week in a long-ago spring when the delicate status quo between Jake and I had tipped, plunged us into something completely different.

Something that, for a while, had been pretty good. Something I had tried to convince myself I could be satisfied with.

And then something truly terrible.

Behind me, Jake whistled sharply, and the memories popped, vanishing like soap bubbles on the snow-laced wind. Scout came loping back, springing up and down as though trying to tell us what a terrific idea this was.

“Yeah, this is more like it, right?” Jake asked the dog.

Scout continued his audition for role of circus clown.

I went back to the SUV and brought Tompkins’s carrier inside the house. I set the carrier down in the long wide front room, lifting him out and setting him down to explore, which he did with great suspicion and doubtful glances at me.

“I bet there’s mice,” I promised. “Maybe even a squirrel.”

Beneath blackened ceiling beams was a barn-like room with a huge rustic stone fireplace at one end. The wooden floors were covered by old and beautiful red and black woven rugs. The old-fashioned furniture was made of heavy walnut and upholstered in red velvet or smoky-gray tufted satin. Faded velvet drapes were drawn against the starry night.

I pulled the drapes open and stared out, smiling at the dark pyramid-shadows of the pine-covered mountains.

It was a lot cleaner than the last time I’d arrived unannounced in the middle of the night. No dust covers. No dead bodies. No broken heart.

Scout galloped in, followed by Jake with an armload of presents. “Where do you want these?”

I looked around, seeking inspiration.

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