Susan Sugar Diamond

Red ain’t jist’ a color, honee’

it’s a place, a cone-dition, a time

a’ angle, a jimble jamble, a rhyme

people either likes or people doan’

ya’ sees what ah’ means?

Part One

Normaine and Eddy

This damn blizzard might stop us from leaving for the desert store when we planned, Eddy said ruefully, stomping the snow off his heavy black boots as he stepped through the back door of the kitchen. He was carrying a giant pizza box. He kicked the door shut behind him with a booted foot.

There isn’t much stops a trucker, but this storm looks pretty bad. May have to set it out.

Yeah. I know, Normaine said. She was sitting at the long, wide wood kitchen table, dwarfed in the huge kitchen, listening to the latest weather forecast about the ongoing blizzard situation. The weatherman’s voice sounded both excited and worried.

Normaine was fiddling with a pair of pliers and a piece of wire. She was working on a metal mobile hanging from a long chain in the back of their cavernous warehouse-studio-apartment. The back area was filled with Normaine’s art supplies, everything from rusty nails to paints to crystals to old, beat-up shoes. An uptown art gallery would arrive after the first of the year to collect mobiles for Normaine’s one-woman art show.

Their warehouse-apartment backed up to Napoliti’s Pizza Parlor. Their tiny yard was divided by an alleyway between them. Convenient.

Mama needs me.

Normaine said, eyes dark with worry. She sent Eddy a hot, admiring glance.

Come here.

He bent down and kissed her noisily. She licked a snowflake off of his handlebar mustache and looked him up and down. His brown eyes sparkled as he proudly posed for her. Swarthy, short, and muscular, he was light on his feet and as dapper as the rowdy, opinionated Italian ancestors he sprang from. He preened at her admiring look, though he was holding a pizza box. Deftly, he slid the pizza box onto the table. She stood. They grabbed each other in an affectionate embrace and swayed back and forth.

"What would I do without you?’ she asked worriedly.

Don’t borrow trouble, kiddo!

But Mama lost Cowboy Johnson too early! All of us did!

Nothing we can do about it now. Quit thinking about it and have some pizza before it gets cold.

Eddy shrugged out of his coat, hung it up and sat down at the table. He lifted the lid of the pizza box, grabbed a slice, slapped it on a plate, and handed it to Normaine. Then he took a slice for himself. A minute later, she asked, Did they send any extra cheese?

They ate in silence, staring out the window at the snow. From time to time, a gust of wind broke through the heavy downpour and they could see as far as the street. Yes, it was a hell of a blizzard. The snow fell in steady, gusting waves, the wind blowing against the back door, causing it to rattle.

The grief from losing Cowboy Johnson so suddenly last summer stayed with them, though they tried not to show the depth of their sorrow in front of each other. Making it home to the desert store for Cowboy Johnson’s memorial and the yearly Christmas gathering looked bleaker every minute.

After they finished eating, Eddy said, Maybe you should call Mama and tell her we might be running late because of the blizzard. Maybe call her before the phones go out?

Before she could pick up the phone to call, it rang.

Hello?

It was William. She listened while he talked.

Oh, my God! Normaine shouted. Eddy rushed to her side.

What’s going on?

William, tell Eddy what you just told me.

She handed the phone to Eddy and started circling the kitchen table.

She’s angry. Thank God there’s no butcher knife out anywhere, or the table would be carved to ribbons She was safe with a chain saw, screwdrivers, and hammers, but not with a butcher knife. Eddy thought.

He watched her while he listened to William.

I understand, Eddy finally said into the phone. I’m not surprised. Only surprised it didn’t happen sooner.

He listened again.

Okay. You’re an honorable man, William, doing that for them. They’re tough. They’ll land on their feet. Not to worry. I will be here to help my three sisters settle back in. We’ll just have to go to the desert store at a later time. I’ll have Normaine call Mama and let her know. I’ll call you back after while.

He hung up. Normaine shouted.

I don’t mind a visit from those dumbasses, but they’re gonna’ stay?

Yep. He’s bought them an apartment, so at least they don’t have to stay with us. They don’t know about any of this yet.

Thank God! So, they don’t know this is a permanent visit?

Right.

What about Christmas at the store?

They’re coming here for Christmas, and we’ll have to be the ones to help them settle back in. It should be easy since New York City is their home. Yeah. Thanks to William, they’ll be in their own place! My God, the money it must have cost him!

Normaine rolled her eyes.

Eddy amended, That’ll make it a lot easier. We have to help them settle in, or they’ll move in with us and make our lives a living hell! We’ll have to go on the road and live there! William has to have help getting them off his back. I know how they are, and they’ve already made life a living hell for him. Us too if we don’t help him out. We have to stay here for Christmas.

Normaine assessed him with steady black eyes. Finally she heaved a portly, heavy bosomed sigh.

So, we have to put up with them again.

Eddy looked down at the floor and heaved his own portly sigh. He sneaked a glance at her.

At least they don’t have to stay in our house.

Normaine snickered and changed gears.

We got our own place now. No more Garage Bay Love! No more Hidden Nights of Love in Motel Room Four…or was it five or six or…all of them?

Eddy grinned and rushed her. Pulled her into his arms. They smiled at each other, dark eyes sparkling.

It’s gonna’ be one hell of a Christmas! Eddy shouted, grabbing her face and kissing her

Probably crappy as hell and bad.

Eddy kissed her thoroughly. She pulled away from him.

In a few minutes. I have to call Mama first.

Geena and Ray

The snow fell in great, gusting sheets. Wind spread through the tops of the pines, dusting snow on boughs, then re-layering it. Geena watched the blizzard through a window in the cavernous, ornate living room. A log snapped in the fireplace, interrupting her thoughts. She turned from the window to look at Ray. He stood spread-legged before the huge fireplace, staring into it, his back to her. He was smoking his pipe, automatically posing as he stared absently into the dancing flames. He looked every bit the fierce, darkly handsome picture of authority he believed himself to be. Many others believed it, too. She looked away.

Geena could not bring herself to tease him about his aloofness to soften him. Her own newfound coolness prevented her. It permeated everything around her, not just him, as she’d once hoped. Sometimes she hated him. But she stayed, for she knew the things he did were not intentionally cruel. On his part, he stayed puzzled and limited about who she was and their relationship.

These days, she hurt him as often as he hurt her. Frustration and anger were the negative glues holding their relationship together. It was so very different in the beginning. Now, she realized it had always been the same. Just a different place, a different setting, a different age.

Today there was something to be settled, not to be avoided as usual. This something needed to be said.

This blizzard is going to make any kind of travel impossible for at least the next few days, if not longer, she said carefully, watching him. After a studied pause, he answered. Yes. It’s a big one. Looks like we might have to postpone our Christmas trip to the desert store.

There. It was out in the open. She heard the hidden satisfaction in his voice. She nodded.

Yes. Most likely.

She turned from the window and walked out of the room.

Ray watched her leave. He knew she was going to Celia, who stayed nested in the library, reading yet another old tome. The library was Celia’s home. She ate and paced and thought in the huge room filled with books. Sometimes Celia slept there. Celia came to him, filled with questions about what she read. He loved it. No complaints from him about crumbs on the tables, floor, or books. Smugly, he reveled in his authority, the position of greater knowledge he held with his daughter.

Goldie and Breck trailed after Geena. Ray studied the full grown Golden Retrievers. Both dogs ignored him and stayed away from wherever he was. He frowned. They should be used to him by now. He remembered being forced by his mother to buy them as puppies for Geena and Celia. She ordered him to purchase them when she called to inform him that he had a son, that she would keep that secret for him, but he would have to toe the mark with Geena and Celia.

Those two were surprised and delighted to find the two golden, gamboling pups waiting for them when they returned from their summer at the desert store. For a short time, Geena and Celia fell back in love with him. Their gratitude for something they could love unconditionally lasted until his cold sophistication drove them away again. They never knew that his mother ordered him to buy the dogs, and not tell them why.

Ray stared after Geena, puzzlement in his eyes. He expected her to put up her usual fuss about cancelling their boring, stupid, yearly Christmas trip to the desert store. This year, it was to be Cowboy Johnson’s memorial plus the Christmas gathering. Cowboy Johnson had passed away last summer. That was months ago, and it wasn’t like they weren’t used to his absence by now. Another wasted Christmas. I’ve got barely enough time available for the things I need to do as it is. Ray thought resentfully.

He watched Geena slip out the door. Did anyone ever understand women? He sure as hell didn’t. He glanced out the window at the falling snow with gratitude. The blizzard was timely. He never relished the yearly Christmas gathering at the desert store like the others did, though he pretended to with Geena and Celia. And especially with his mother Emma, who seemed to see beneath his surface to what he was hiding more easily each time he saw her. Which was why he avoided her.

He felt relief when he thought about not having to face the usual inquisition William the Dude, his grandfather, and the rest of the misfits put him through each year. He always came away lacking, feeling like a small boy who’d gotten a bad report card from school. They all disapproved of him. He had no idea why. Maybe it was because he wasn’t a misfit. Maybe it was because he was highly educated, something most of them weren’t.

Well, maybe he wouldn’t have to go through it this year. He didn’t want to have to face his grandfather or mother until they settled down a bit. Until their ruffled feathers smoothed out again. He knew they would keep his secrets; he wasn’t worried about that. He just didn’t want to put up with the humiliation he would surely have to endure from them. Or to worry any more than he already did about his inheritance. Everybody else minded them because they were both rich as Croesus. For the first time, he wondered if they might pass him over in their wills in favor of his illegitimate son. Well, he’d throw a little sugar in the pot to make sure that didn’t happen. His mother was a sucker for him. He’d figure out what to do and when. He repeated what the excited weatherman was announcing.

The biggest snowstorm to hit the east coast in years! All the way down from Maine through New York and as far south as the Carolinas! A blizzard of gigantic proportions!

He smirked and took a long draw on his pipe. He could always pretend to be sick if the blizzard wasn’t enough. He laughed inside with delight and relief.

Geena picked up the phone in the library and called Mama at the store.

There’s a hell of a blizzard here, she announced mournfully when Mama answered.

Nobody’s going anywhere. They can’t.

Mama was silent for a moment, taking in what Geena was really saying.

Okay.

Geena thought she sounded almost relieved.

What’s going on? she asked suspiciously. Mama gave a short laugh.

Oh, just this and that. Nothing to worry about, Mama said evasively.

You’re lying. Put Timmon on the phone, Geena ordered tersely.

Okay. No problem.

In a minute, Timmon said, Hello?

What’s really going on? Geena asked without preamble.

Nothing I know anything about.

Geena narrowed her eyes.

Both of you are lying. Why?

Timmon stayed insistently evasive. Geena finally gave up. Whatever it was, they didn’t want her in on it. She felt more alone than ever. She talked a few minutes more and hung up. She turned and strode to a window to watch the falling snow. Oh God! Why couldn’t she be someplace warm and kind, someplace where no one kept unkind, mean secrets? Someplace where they only drove blue Nash Ramblers? Suddenly Celia was beside her. She patted Geena’s arm.

It’s okay, Mother. We’ll fit in later again.

What? Geena asked.

Celia touched her arm again.

How about we bake some gingerbread cookies? Just plain round ones? I don’t like biting the heads off gingerbread men.

It looks like we’re not going home this Christmas. To the desert store, I mean. We’re not wanted, Geena said sadly. She watched Celia to see her reaction.

I mean, we’re not supposed to.

Celia studied her mother.

I know. I knew yesterday. But this is one of our homes, too. And I like it very much for the bigness of it, plus Rudy, the fawn, has grown up in our woods.

She nudged Geena’s attention back to the window. "There’s magic and plenty of Sight here, too, Mother. And Goldie and Breck like gingerbread almost