Page 26 of Sinful Beauty

With a nod, and a discreet, “See you soon,” I’m on my way without her.

Outside, the weather is unusually horrid. Ice batters all exposed skin. The waterproof trench coat keeps me dry, but the icy wind cuts through the fabric in unforgiving gusts. Head down, I barrel down the sidewalk, noting closed signs on stores along the way.

I push through to Charly O’Neills, only to be greeted by an apologetic William flipping chairs onto tables as another staff member sweeps.

“Sorry mate. We’re closing early tonight. They’re predicting this storms going to intensify. Half the staff called in sick. Something’s going ‘round. And me and Lillian live a good way out.”

The television screens are dark. There are no patrons. The patter of ice against the window panes is the predominant sound as there’s no overhead music. Behind me on the entrance door hangs a closed sign, something I missed when I pushed the door open, probably because my head was bowed to avoid the ice.

“Do you mind if I wait here? I’m meeting someone.”

“Not a problem, mate, but we plan to be out of here in the next ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes should be sufficient. Thank you.” I pull out my mobile, but I haven’t populated Lucia’s details. But she can’t be far behind. The bigger question is, what shall we do? If this pub is closing, our chances of finding a place to dine are slim.

I pull up a restaurant app, but how many places will update the app with an unscheduled closing? Is that even an option for dining establishments? Last-minute hour adjustments? Will they bother?

Outside the glass pane of the door, a woman in rain boots, a taupe trench coat and black gloves holding a box in the air over her head slips and slides down the sidewalk. As she gets closer, I recognize the swishy pleated skirt.

“We need a Plan B,” I say, holding the door open for her and flinching as ice pelts my skin.

She shakes off the box as she enters. Ice coats the corners and the top.

“No umbrella?”

“Better than nothing.” Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, but her eyes are animated. She’s more alive in an icy downpour than cooped up kissing Pelz’s derriere. “Don’t see you with an umbrella.”

“An oversight. Day two in the office. Haven’t had time to leave behind a few umbrellas for such occasions. You’ve been there seven years.” As the words come out, it hits me. I shouldn’t know this. She hasn’t shared it. If she asks, I’ll tell her my mum told me. She can’t know I’ve spent the day roaming through personnel files and doing database queries.

William approaches, a key in hand, apology in his expression. “Sorry mates. Hate to push you out into this mess, but I need to lock the door. We go out the back.”

“You’re closing?” Lucia asks, and a sense of wonderment fills her eyes as she takes in the space. “A little ice has you closing shop?”

“Aye, and you’d better take care getting home. It’s a nasty business out there.”

“Oh, it’s a quick walk for me,” she answers, “But you get home safe.”

She lifts her box again, which is now wet along the corners and edges thanks to melting ice. “You up for feijoada?”

“Pardon?”

“Stew. Should work for this weather. I have some back home I can heat, if you’re not opposed to leftovers.”

“Lead the way.”

He watches us closely as we depart, but says nothing. She offers me her box, but I wave it away, encouraging her to lead. I take the street side out of habit, protecting her, although there are few vehicles on the road to splash us.

She pushes open the side door to a four-story home sandwiched between similar buildings. Inside there’s a tiny landing and stairs. To our right is another door that I presume enters the rest of the house. She doesn’t kick off her boots, but does set the box on the ground.

“I’ll take care of that in the morning,” she says, but I have the impression she’s speaking to herself.

“Thank you for having me. I’m about a twenty-minute walk away.”

“You would have frozen. You should have grabbed something for protection.”

Unlike her, I’m not wearing gloves. Holding onto anything would have hurt my hands.

“Come on up.”

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