Iced Read Free

Wood family came into town and he was always truly glad to see them but he also had a great love for the big comfy bed and heated towel racks that he wouldn’t get to enjoy again until they packed their bags and winged their way back to New York. Give and take, that’s what life is all about, Eben thought.
    He was so proud of the place that he’d even gotten a little daring about showing it off after he’d had a few drinks. I probably shouldn’t have brought them back last night, Eben thought as he slipped and fell. Who would have thought, when he went into town last night for a beer and a burger at the Red Onion, Eben’s favorite, a famous old mining-day saloon where he felt comfortable relaxing around the historic wooden bar and under the old historical photographs, that he would run into Judd Schnulte? What a surprise that had been. And it could have been a terrible problem. No one in Aspen except his friend Louis knew that Eben had been a jailbird, and he wanted to keep it that way.
    He needn’t have worried. When Judd saw Eben, it was hard to tell from both their horrified expressions who had more use for a panic button.
    “My girlfriend’s in the can,” Judd had said nervously.
    “How long will she be in?” Eben asked sympathetically.
    “You never know with women. She’s always complaining about the long lines in ladies’ rooms.”
    “I thought you meant our kind of can,” Eben responded with a laugh, and then lowered his voice. “You know, a house of correction.” He patted Judd on the shoulder. “We always did call you Mr. Smoothie.”
    “Yeah, well, whatever you want to call it, she doesn’t know about my life in the cage. And I’d really like to keep it that way,” Judd said, with almost a warning tone that slightly annoyed Eben.
    “It’s our little secret,” Eben assured him. “I’m trying to make an honest living too. I’ve got a dream job, but I wouldn’t have it if they didn’t think they could trust me.” As he talked, Eben wondered if all the members of the five million support groups that had sprung up for every conceivable problem felt the same queasiness when they ran into each other in public. Life was so much simpler when the one club everyone had in common was the T.G.I.F. group. Thank God it’s Friday. Of course, being inmates together wasn’t quite the same as being in group therapy, but it was a secret that the rest of the world didn’t need to know.
    Eben could see that a new girlfriend might not look kindly on a previously unmentioned incarceration period. What was it that Judd had been locked up for anyway? Eben racked his brains. I’ve got it! he thought as Judd’s girlfriend joined them. He was an art thief.
    Judd put down his beer. “This is Willeen. Willeen, say hello to Eben here. We know each other from way back.”
    She’s a cute-looking gal, Eben thought. He extended his hand. “How do you do.”
    “My pleasure.” Willeen smiled as she squeezed Eben’s hand and held it just a little bit too long. She had blond hair, freckles and a pouty mouth. Eben figured she was probably about forty. Judd still looked the same to him: a good-looking Mr. Smoothie with brown hair and brown eyes, about the same height as Eben, late forties. Eben remembered him as being sharp-tongued but funny. They make an attractive couple, Eben thought, even though Judd is not practicing the honesty-is-the-best-policy theory of relationships these days.
    “So what’s this job, Eben?” he asked.
    Over a beer he explained. It was nice to chat and brag about the fancy home he was in charge of. They sat down in one of the booths by the bar and ordered dinner. Feeling good, Eben boasted a little about his upcoming gig playing Santa at the famous Christmas Eve party at Yvonne and Lester Grants’ house. Willeen obviously read the gossip columns.
    “The Grants’ house?” she repeated, impressed.
    “Yes,” Eben said proudly. “Yvonne Grant has a big party every year and really