Obsession Falls by Christina Dodd Page B

want.’ And then it was, ‘But you won’t work. I need a wife and a hostess.’ When I said I wanted more, he wasn’t even insulted. He told me his mother had worked, too, until she met his father. Like his mother was my role model. Then he wheedled and pouted, and finally he told me it was okay if I only loved him for his money, I didn’t need to try and convince him otherwise.” She flung out her hands in an upswept gesture. “How pathetic is that? He didn’t think well enough of himself to imagine a woman would love the man and not his bankroll.”
    You adore your job?
    “I do.” She hadn’t realized how much until she’d gotten stuck up here. “I like arranging things, making things look good. I like working with the people—let me tell you, that’s an art—and knowing that when I’m done, they’ll be happy living in the home coordinated specifically for them. I like making them feel safe, and at home. No job is the same. I like that, too.”
    You wanted to be an artist.
    “I did. One thing coming up here made me realize—talent isn’t genius. I’m not a great artist, and honestly? I’m not willing to live in a garret. After this, I want a cozy house in an area I love, maybe with a man I love. Or maybe alone. I can make it alone.”
    Of course you can. You’re a remarkable woman.
    She paused to wallow in his praise. “Not to go all Scarlett O’Hara on you, but after I get out of this, I’ll never be hungry—or cold—again.”
    After tonight, you’ll be lucky to be alive. Look up at the moon.
    She did. It was full and bright, so beautiful as it broke through the branches to light her night. She smiled.
    What do you see?
    “There’s a ring around it.” Pale ice crystals shone like a halo.
    That ain’t no halo, honey. I taught you what it means.
    Her smile faded. “It means it’s going to snow.”
    Boy, howdy. Is it ever going to snow. Are you ready?
    “As ready as I can ever be.”
    So how are you living? He didn’t sound curious. He already knew. But he asked anyway.
    “I go down in the valley and gather supplies.”
    Gather supplies?
    “That’s what I call it. Gather supplies. It sounds so much better than breaking into houses and stealing stuff.” That struck her as funny, and she laughed so hard she fell over on her side.
    He didn’t reply.
    Abruptly she was afraid he was gone. But when she looked up, there he was, smoking that cigarette and watching her.
    Slowly, one hand at a time, Taylor pushed herself back into sitting position. “That’s where I got this…” Defiantly, she raised the joint to her lips.
    You kids think you’re so goddamn smart. I was smoking that shit in the sixties.
    Taylor was shocked. She didn’t know why. She knew her dad had been raised during the sexual revolution. But he’d lived in rural Idaho, when a tall antenna brought in two television stations and Nat King Cole, the most popular singer in America, couldn’t keep his variety show because he was African American. “I didn’t know you smoked shit. Of course, I didn’t know you had committed suicide, either.” Her voice came out cold, accusatory. Like her mother’s.
    I didn’t commit suicide. I went after the cows. Did my job. Someone had to, in that snowstorm. Got the first ones in, went back for the strays. Didn’t make it back.
    “Does it hurt to freeze to death?” Her voice quavered.
    Sure does. It’s not the death I’m lookin’ for, for you. You don’t deserve that. You did save that kid.
    “ Thank you! I’m glad somebody besides me realizes it.” She looked at the joint, smoldering between her fingers, and tossed it into the fire. “I don’t know what to do, though. I don’t know how to save myself.”
    You can’t hide forever, Taylor Elizabeth Summers. You’ve got to take the bull by the horns and do something to clear your good name.
    “I know, Daddy. But what? I don’t even know who hired Dash to kidnap the child.”
    God gave you your talent for a reason, and