An Appetite for Passion (14 page)

Now it all came back—the planned weekend with Max, the snowstorm, Steve’s unwelcome advances…and insulting assumption…the phone call, poor substitute for a visit. Well, it was Saturday, and she didn’t have to be at work...or anywhere else in particular. She would probably call in to the campaign office later to see if her help was needed. As the plows were on the roads, she’d probably be able to get out. But for now, she could just roll over and go back to sleep.

She opened one eye to see what time it was, and was surprised that it was 8:30 already. Maybe she should think of getting up after all.... She lay there for five minutes, searching for sleep, but her brain was in gear, so she swung her feet out of bed and went over to the window to see what the weather was.

A brilliant sun was doing as much work on the snow as the plows were, and though the air coming in the cracked open window felt undeniably cold, it didn’t feel hostile. Surely it would warm up to a tolerable level by mid-day. Kari picked out a pair of grey pants and a fuzzy pink sweater to wear.

A short while later, seated in front of the computer with a steaming cup of coffee, Kari logged on and found three letters, including one from Max.

My dear,

I so much enjoyed the conversation with you last night, though it was a pale substitute for actually holding you, making love to you, touching you, talking to you, kissing you all over.... But next weekend is only six days away. Surely the weather will be more favorable then.

If only there were a way to slip into the computer and send myself to you by modem. Which reminds me, in an attached file, I am sending you the recipe for pork roast with cranberry sauce. Why not try it this weekend? Cook it for one of your friends. Let me know how it comes out.

I’m off to the campaign headquarters where I’ve been volunteering; I presume your plans are similar. I may get another room painted, too. As I’ve said before, by the time I’m done painting, it’ll be time to start over again. And I’ve definitely got to go grocery shopping! Maybe I’ll spend the evening with a friend; I’ll have to make some calls. I’d rather be with you.

Well, no news—I just spoke to you last night, after all. I’ll check in online later, pick up your letter, and write back this evening.

Yours,

Max

She read the letter, answered it, and downloaded the recipe. Who should she cook it for? Should she try to round up one of her friends to spend the evening with? Which one? Certainly not Lylah—oh, she was at her mom’s this weekend anyhow. God, she hoped she never ran into Steve again!

After logging off, she drifted aimlessly around the house for a few minutes, straightening knick knacks that had been fine where they were, and dusting non-existent particles off the tables. Then, she picked up the phone and called Larrimore headquarters. The line was busy, busy, busy, but after ten minutes she finally got through.

One of the volunteers answered. “Got anything going on there today?” Kari asked.

“Hold on. I’ll get Jeff for you.”

After a minute, Jeff picked up. “Hey! I thought you were all involved this weekend?”

“I had to give him a rain check...or snow check. Have you looked out your window?”

“I was afraid the weather might put a crimp in your plans. Well, you want to stand out in the cold and hand out flyers again?”

“Sure, if that’s all there is. I was hoping there’d be phone work.”

“We’re a little short of phone lines....”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll fill you in when you get here. What time can you be here?”

“Have I got time to make a quick run to the grocery store?”

“Hey—you’re a volunteer. You’ve got time for anything. Come in when you can...but the earlier the better.”

“Ouch—my arm hurts when you twist it like that.”

Jeff laughed. “Well...see you soon?”

“About an hour, I guess.”

She ran out to the store, got what she needed for the pork roast recipe and a few other items besides, came home, put her groceries away, and called three friends...all of whom already had plans for the evening. She put off any further calls, knowing Jeff was waiting for her at the storefront campaign office.

Between the sun, the plows, and the moderating temperatures, the roads weren’t bad. She was pleased with the ease in which she was able to drive around. When she got to the office, Jeff complimented her on her outfit, which made her feel good, but the atmosphere of trouble hanging over the headquarters was so thick it was palpable, so heavy it weighted on Kari’s shoulders.

“What’s going on?” she asked Jeff.

“Trouble with a capital T.”

“More missing flyers? More lost data?”

“No, but more of the same kind of thing. We’ve got double trouble this time. We got dealt a one-two punch. First of all, someone called the phone company yesterday and ordered most of our lines disconnected. Only the first line is still working.

“When the other lines went out, the people who were here assumed it was storm damage, so nobody reported it right away. By the time Eileen called Repair Service to ask when it might be fixed, it was late in the afternoon. Repair checked and said there was no storm damage. The phones had been shut off in accordance with an order they’d received.”

“But who called it in?”

“They gave a bogus name—‘J.T. Hendricks.’ We have no one by that name. It was a man, they said. With all the suspicions already on me, people are starting to
really
look at me funny on this one. No one’s come right out and accused me to my face yet, but I’ve heard whispers. I’ve caught looks.” He shook his head. “This is bad for me.”

“Can’t they turn the phones back on?”

“Yeah, sure...on Monday. But we’ll have to spend the weekend with just one line, and unable to put you people to work on the phones. Dammit! It’s the weekend, people are home, we could reach a lot of folks to persuade them to vote for our guy...and we can’t use the phones!”

“You said double trouble.”

“Yeah.” He sounded glum. “Badley gave a speech last night. Maybe you heard it on the radio?” Kari shook her head. “Well, he answered all the points Larrimore is making in his speech today, refuted all the charges Larrimore plans to make, just knocked all the oomph right out of Larrimore’s speech. Took the claws out of the tiger.

“It’s apparent that
somebody
slipped an advance copy of Larrimore’s speech to Badley. But who? Who’s the spy? What do we do...hire a P.I. agency to tail every volunteer? Get expensive video monitoring equipment set up in the storefront? Get paranoid and keep watching each other for clues? It’s unreal.” He paused. “Meanwhile, I
know
people think it was me. And it
wasn’t!”
He punched a desk with his hand.

“You need a friend. What’re you doing tonight?” Kari asked. “I have a neat new recipe for roast pork with cranberry sauce. Just downloaded it off the computer this morning. Want to be my guinea pig? I bought all the ingredients this morning. Is friendship and roast pork a tempting combination?”

“If you’ll let me contribute something to the dinner. How about letting me make a big tossed salad and some scalloped potatoes? Will that go with the roast pork?”

“I’m drooling already.”

“That’s because it’s almost lunch time,” Jeff said, the familiar grin returning to his face. “C’mon. I’ll buy you a quick bite to eat and we’ll hit the road.”

Kari wanted a chicken salad and bacon sandwich, but the thought crossed her mind that one good aspect of the weather delaying Max’s visit was that now she had a chance to lose a couple more pounds before he met her face to face. So she ordered tuna salad on wheat toast with a diet Pepsi and Jell-O. Jeff, who had no weight worries with his lean frame, ordered a cheeseburger, cole slaw and fries, and a cup of coffee. For dessert, he put away a slice of lemon meringue pie. “I feel guilty doing my glutton thing when you’re being so good,” he said.

“Relax. You don’t have a weight problem. Why should you suffer through a diet lunch?”

“You don’t have a weight ‘problem’ either...unless you let it be a problem to you. Your weight is just part of your outer shell. It’s what’s inside that counts. Your weight is just another meaningless statistic.”

“I thought a man embroiled in politics would be in love with statistics. Aren’t they necessary for winning elections?”

“Yes, they’re necessary in politics. But I never confuse politics with real life.”

They headed back over to the Southdale Shopping Centre. There was a huge discount supermarket there, and Jeff posted Kari at the door to talk to the shoppers going in and out while he took up a post at the department store at the other end of the plaza.

Kari was getting more comfortable with the pitch, engaging more people in conversation when possible. Before, she had handed out flyers to anyone who would take them, but gave them the spiel only if they asked a question or otherwise seemed inclined to talk. Now, she found she was starting conversations, earnestly explaining to one and all why Larrimore was the better candidate.

“I’m sure Chris Badley would make a fine mayor,” she told one woman. “But Ron Larrimore would be ever so much better! Doesn’t Jeffersonville deserve the best we can get? And that’s Ron Larrimore!” And she was off on an impassioned monologue about the ways in which Larrimore surpassed Badley in qualifications and the ways Larrimore could improve life in Jeffersonville. She earnestly recited his list of past accomplishments, and finished with, “I’m not being paid to say this. I’m not being paid to stand here in the cold and talk to you. I’m doing it ’cause I believe in the man. He’s what we need for Jeffersonville. He’s what we need for
us.
He’s what
you
need at the helm of
your
town. Please vote for Ron Larrimore!”

“Bravo.” The quiet voice came from right over her shoulder. Whirling around, surprised, she found Jeff behind her. He’d been quietly, surreptitiously monitoring her pitch. “They ought to make a commercial out of that speech!” he proclaimed.

“Not bad for a fat broad, huh?” Kari didn’t usually speak so flippantly—or comfortably—about her weight. She surprised herself.

Jeff went back to his post by the department store after that, and Kari returned to exhorting discount-grocery shoppers to get out and vote for Ron Larrimore.

To her surprise, a familiar face appeared among the shoppers bustling out of the store. “Kari? Is that you? Lord, lady, I haven’t seen you in...what? A year?”

“Marcy?”

“In the flesh...and lots of it.” Marcy had never had trouble laughing at her weight. Maybe that was why Marcy had been unsuccessful with every weight reduction plan she’d tried, Kari decided. She just wasn’t motivated enough. She’d met Kari when they’d both been enrolled in the same program...a program that had failed both of them miserably.

Though they’d never met before, they’d enrolled at the same time, and they’d gravitated to each other, becoming “diet buddies.” The idea was that when one was tempted to eat a no-no, she was supposed to call the other to be talked out of the Snickers bar, hot fudge sundae, or heaping platter of fried food.

Instead, the opposite took place. Marcy, for example, would call Kari and say, “I have such a yen for a triple-tier sundae. I can just see it—banana ice cream, chocolate ice cream, and coffee ice cream with hot fudge sauce and butterscotch sauce, loads of thick, gooey whipped cream, nuts, and a rich maraschino cherry perched on top.”

Then Kari, instead of talking her out of it, would be tempted to run out and buy one just like it for herself. When they quit the program together after twelve weeks, each woman weighed 10 pounds more than when she’d joined.

They’d lost touch shortly after quitting the program, but now, here was Marcy, eyes sparkling with merriment as always, fat as ever, and unconcerned about it as ever. “I know I should lose weight,” she said with a shrug. “I know it’s healthier...and supposedly, I’d be prettier. But I’ve never had trouble getting dates.”

Kari envied her that. “Who are you seeing now?”

“I just broke up with someone. Why? Got someone you want to fix me up with?”

That wasn’t why Kari was asking...but it gave her an idea. “Maybe. Have you got time now? I’ve got a friend. Nice guy. Made a remark just today about fat not being important. He’s over on the other side of the plaza right now.”

“No. I’ve got perishables in the bag...and a hairdresser appointment in half an hour. I’ll have to hustle to get home, get these put away, and get to the hairdresser real fast.”

“Got a picture of yourself, then?”

“Sure. So far, he sounds like my kinda guy, if that’s his attitude on fat women. Here.” Having rummaged through her purse, she came up with a picture of herself. “Will this do?” It showed her full-length, fat and all, and made Kari feel like a coward for having sent Max that picture of herself from just the neck up. “Well, I’ve gotta run. You’ve got my number? It hasn’t changed. I’m in the book, too.”

“I’ll show him the picture, give you a call.”

“Bye, hon.” Marcy gave Kari a peck on the cheek and scooted toward her car, pushing the grocery cart as she scurried along. Kari pocketed the picture.