Fireside Read Free Page B

aluminum building that became a virtual wind tunnel every time the door opened. She set her jeweled clutch on a vacant counter. The evening bag had been a Christmas gift from Lloyd, and was worth thousands of dollars. But when she peered inside, all she could see was how small it was, how empty. It contained her remaining diamond chandelier earring, a gift from the hockey player she’d dated before Lloyd. She wouldn’t miss wearing the earrings, since they were heavy and uncomfortable. There was a lipstick and a tube of concealer, one credit card, a platinum American Express. Her driver’s license and a wad of cash she’d withdrawn from an ATM at the airport, charging it to the American Express. This would likely incur an exorbitant fee but she couldn’t worry about that. Not now. She had more immediate worries.
    Gritting her teeth, she took out her phone, balking as she had earlier. Turning on the phone meant acknowledging what had happened last night. Well, ignoring the phone was not going to make her troubles go away. She set her jaw and hit the power button. As expected, there was a full queue of missed calls. She scrolled through them but didn’t listen to the messages. She knew they would be a string of rants from Lloyd and, no doubt, Lloyd’s manager, his various coaches and teammates, his parents. Good lord, the man was thirty years old and didn’t even take a piss without getting input from his parents.
    She definitely wouldn’t miss that aspect of him. She wouldn’t miss any aspect of him, not even his money, his status, his looks or reputation. None of those were worth her heart. Or her self-respect.
    As she glared at the tiny screen, it gave her a low-battery warning and then went blank. All the better, she thought. Except she really did need to make a call.
    She looked around for a pay phone. The only one in range was a phone booth about fifty yards across the frozen tundra of the parking lot. Please, no, she thought, approaching the counter. “Excuse me,” she said to the girl working there. “Is there a pay phone indoors? My cell phone died.”
    “Local call?” the girl asked, eyeing Kim’s outfit.
    “Yes.”
    The counter girl indicated a phone on the wall, surrounded by scribbled-on Post-it notes. “Help yourself.”
    Kim watched her own fingers punch the numbers as though they belonged to someone else. To her horror, she was shaking uncontrollably. She could barely connect her fingers with the correct number. After a couple of false starts, she finally got it right.
    “Fairfield House.”
    Kim frowned, momentarily disoriented. “Mom?”
    “Kimberly,” her mother chirped. “Good morning, dear. How are you?”
    Trust me, you do not want to know.
    “You’re up early,” her mother continued.
    “I’m not there,” said Kim. “I mean, I’m not in L.A. I came home on the redeye.”
    “You’re in New York?”
    “I’m at the county airport, Mom.”
    There was a beat of hesitation, weighted with doubt. “Well, for heaven’s sake. I had no idea you planned to fly out from L.A.”
    “Can you come and pick me up?” To her dismay, Kim’s throat burned and her eyes smarted. Fatigue, she told herself. She was tired, that was all.
    “I was just cleaning up after breakfast.”
    Screw breakfast, Kim wanted to scream. “Mom, please. I’m really tired.”

    “Of course. I’ll be there in a jiff.”
    Kim wondered how long a “jiff” was. Her mom was always saying things like “in a jiff.” It used to drive Kim’s father crazy. He always thought colloquialisms were so déclassé.
    “Wait, can you bring a spare coat and some snow boots?” she asked hurriedly. But it was too late. Her mother had already hung up. She wondered what her father would think of her current getup. No, she didn’t wonder. She knew. The form-fitting gown would earn his skepticism at best, but more likely disapproval, her father’s default mode.
    I wish we’d had time to forgive one another, Dad, she