Iced (3 page)

“Hello.”

“Reilly!”

“Kit!” It was one of Regan’s best friends. They had met ten years before, in college, when they’d both spent their junior year abroad, at Saint Polycarp’s in Oxford, England. They’d become fast friends when at the first evening meal they’d deemed the cafeteria food unfit for human consumption. Dumping their trays, they headed downtown for spaghetti, which they ended up living on all year. Regan sat up on the couch. “How are things in the land of the insurance policy?”

“Hartford’s all right. I’m trying to get into the spirit before I head to my parents’ house for dinner.”

“I don’t suppose you’re nibbling on any of that fruitcake your company sends out?” Regan asked. “Unless of course you keep a power saw in your apartment.”

“No way. We had about a dozen left over from last year. We sent them out to people who canceled their policies.”

“So how else are you getting into the spirit?” Regan asked.

“Well,” Kit sighed. “I bought some mistletoe.”

“I admire your optimism.”

“Very funny. You know what we’re heading into, don’t you?” “No. What?” “The start of the Bermuda Triangle. And believe me,

it’s deadly.”

Regan frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and Valentine’s Day. The three worst holidays for single women. Will you get a present for Christmas, a date for New Year’s, a lone flower on Valentine’s Day?”

Regan laughed. “I have a feeling that on February fifteenth I’m going to be zero for three.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m sitting here staring at the presents under the tree. Every single one that’s labeled ‘Regan’ has handwriting that looks suspiciously like my mother’s. New Year’s Eve in Aspen should be fun, but I’m sure it’ll be a group affair. But that’s okay. Ever since Guy Lombardo died, New Year’s Eve just hasn’t been the same. Valentine’s Day I don’t want to even think about. Now”—Regan paused slightly for emphasis—“you
are
coming to Aspen, aren’t you?”

“I think so.”

“I think so’s not good enough. I know you’re off next week.”

“Well, I should go in and clear up some odds and ends before the end of the year.”

“I thought you sent out all the fruitcake.”

Kit laughed. “I’ve checked the flights. I’ll probably be there by mid-week.”

“What do you mean, probably? There isn’t anything else stopping you, is there?”

Kit hesitated. “No.”

“What is it? You bought mistletoe. Are you dating some-body?”

“Well, I’ve had a few dates with this guy in my health club. He seems really nice. I just thought that if he wanted to get together over the holidays, you know . . .”

“Yeah,” Regan said, “but if he doesn’t ask you out for New Year’s Eve, you’ll be sitting home alone banging pots and pans together at midnight.”

“I’ve thought of that.”

The phone clicked in Regan’s ear. “Hold on a second, Kit.”

“Hello.”

“Doll! It’s me.”

“Louis!” Regan could picture him fluffing his hair, pushing it behind his ear and then patting his head. “I’m just on the phone with Kit.”

“Is she coming?”

“I hope so. Hold on.” Regan clicked back to Kit. “It’s Louis. Let me call you back.”

“I’ll be here hanging the mistletoe.”

As Regan got back on the line with Louis, she could hear him giving orders in the background. “Louis? Hellooooo. LOUIS!”

“Yes, darling. We’re a little crazed.”

“Isn’t that good?” Regan asked. It was an important time for him. Reaction to his restaurant over the holidays, and the party on the twenty-ninth, would make or break him.

“Yes, I guess so, darling. Don’t mind me, I’m just a wreck. I thought I’d try and reach you and make sure you’ll be in tomorrow night. I can’t believe it’ll be Christmas!”

“I know,” Regan said. “I’ll be there. My parents and I are flying out tomorrow afternoon on the Woods’ jet.”

“Hold on, Regan. WHAT’S BURNING?” he yelled. “TAKE THE BREAD OUT OF THE BROILER, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

Regan chuckled. “You do sound busy. I’d better let you go. I’ll see you after dinner at Kendra’s.”

“Anything special you’ll want to eat while you’re here,

darling?” “Whatever you’re serving. Oh, but one thing.” “What?” he asked quickly. “I love it when the bread is served nice and hot.” Louis mumbled what Regan was sure was an obscenity and hung up on her.

3

New York City

Saturday, December 24

L
ARRY WILL THIS hurt?” Nora Regan Reilly garbled from underneath the mask that covered her nostrils, sending nitrous oxide swirling through her brain.

“Just a few more minutes, Nor,” Dr. Larry Ashkinazy replied amiably, holding an instrument that looked suspiciously like a cuticle cutter in his hands. “That’s some nasty tooth. I’ll turn up the gas a little more.”

“I have to walk out of here on two feet,” Nora croaked as she felt herself flying out of the dentist chair.

“No problem, Nor. I’ll get you fixed up in no time and then I’m on vacation.” He leaned into her mouth and squirted the offensive tooth with a spray of water as a sputtering suction device hung from Nora’s lip.

Nora stared straight ahead at the rows of holiday cards hanging on the venetian blinds. Outside the window, on Central Park South, snow was beginning to fall. It was Christmas Eve, and last-minute shoppers were scurrying by. Feeling woozy, Nora found herself wondering but somehow not worrying about what the drive back to New Jersey would be like.

This nitrous oxide does make you relax, she thought dreamily, but I’d rather be home with an eggnog. She closed her eyes as Larry picked up the drill. The sight of it was bad enough, but the sound was much worse. The whirring would make anyone’s legs turn to jelly, not to mention the fact that it completely drowned out the relaxing light music Larry piped into his office.

As Nora breathed in and out, she had the crazy thought that the radio station had been playing the same song the whole time she was in the chair. Come to think of it, it sounded like the same song every time she was in the chair. But then she couldn’t remember what it was. Every-thing was blending together.

A few minutes later, Larry proudly stepped back. “All done!” He turned to his assistant. “Give her straight oxygen.”

Nora wiped the accumulated grit from around her mouth and leaned over to the gurgling metal bowl that was just within spitting distance of the chair. Larry’s assistant, Flossie, handed her a Dixie cup that held barely enough water to drown a single ant. Nora swished it around in her mouth and aimed for the bowl. The water, flecked with traces of silver filling, was sucked down the pipes faster than you could say “Roto-Rooter.”

“Thanks for coming in today, Larry. I couldn’t have gone on vacation with that tooth bothering me.”

“For you, anything,” Larry said as he stood nearby, writing on her chart. “I’m glad Flossie was free to come in and help me out for a few minutes.”

Nora watched him as, deep in thought, he made his notations. Larry was a boyishly handsome guy of forty-two with jet-black hair and eyes. His skin was tanned ninety-nine percent of the year, thanks to his frequent trips to places like South Beach in Miami. He was an eligible bachelor and loved every minute of it.

“I’m so glad Regan’s going to Aspen,” he said as he folded the chart. “She’ll have the greatest time. There are so many guys out there that a girl could look like Lassie and she’d still have a good time.”

“My daughter doesn’t look like Lassie,” Nora mumbled as she ran her tongue across her teeth.

“I know, so she’ll have an even better time,” Larry said earnestly. “I’ll tell her where all the parties are.” He wrote the name of his hotel on a business card that identified him as “Dentist to the Stars” and handed the card to Nora. “Merry Christmas,” he said and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

As he hurried out of the room, Nora’s head started to clear. She heard him in the hallway talking into his ever-present pocket recorder, which he called the friend that never talks back.

I’ve got to get going, Nora thought, as she started to get out of the chair.

“Flossie,” Larry called as he came back in to assist Nora. “Let’s make an appointment for Mrs. Reilly for mid-January and then I’m headed out west!”

“I’m going as far as New Jersey if you need a ride,” Nora found herself saying.

“I think,” Larry said, laughing, “that we better put that oxygen mask back on for a few more minutes. We want you to get wherever you’re going in one piece.”

Nora leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. So much rushing around at this time of year, she thought. Getting everything ready for Christmas. It would be good to get to Aspen, where she and Luke could unwind at Kendra’s home. Regan would be staying nearby. They could all just be lazy and enjoy the rest of the holiday season.

So why did Nora have the feeling in the back of her not-yet-clear mind that it wasn’t going to work out like that? She always cheered herself with the thought that if something bad happened, she could always turn it around and use it in one of her murder mysteries.

“Nor,” she heard Larry saying. “I bet you get a lot of good material in Aspen.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said as she took an extra-deep breath of oxygen.

4

Summit, New Jersey

Sunday, December 25

H
URRY UP, REGAN,” Nora called up the stairs. “The car is here.”

“I’m trying to fit everything that Santa brought me into the suitcase,” Regan yelled back down. “He was very good to me this year.”

Regan lay down on top of her suitcase, stuffing the protruding sleeves and hems inside as she tugged at the zipper. “This zipper’s teeth are more deadly than a shark’s,” Regan muttered as a silk dress narrowly escaped being chewed up. She finally stood up. “Done.”

Regan looked around her room for anything she might have missed. Testaments to her adolescent years still adorned the walls and bookshelves. Scripted posters depicting everything from a bumblebee atop a flower and a dewy field at sunrise to a couple walking hand-in-hand along the Jersey shore stared down at her, offering their advice on everything from friendship and love to the meaning of life. “What a crock,” Regan said aloud. “Things are never that simple.”

Regan wasn’t really sure why neither she nor her mother had ever gotten around to tearing them down. Her mother had recently removed the ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK sign Regan had had on her door since the Year One, but she was probably hoping that some of the syrupy goodness urged by those oversized greeting cards would rub off on her daughter. Regan smiled to herself. Nowadays, the poster of that couple proclaiming their deepening love and commitment would probably be used in an ad for multicolor condoms.

“Oh, well,” Regan said as she pulled the suitcase off the bed. “This room brings back the optimism of my youth, the feeling of being sixteen...”

“Regan!” Nora called again, pulling her back into the present, her thirty-first year of life.

“I’m coming. Ma, how come you never taught me how to pack a suitcase properly?” she asked as she rolled her valise down the hall and clunked it down the steps.

“It’s always my fault, ” Nora said with mock indignation.

“No, it’s not,” Regan said as she observed all her mother’s baggage. “No one ever taught you.”

Nora laughed. “Nanny always schlepped out on the bus with everything she needed in two shopping bags.”

Luke came out of the bedroom. “I hope the plane will be able to get off the ground with all that dead weight.”

“Dad, speaking of dead weight, isn’t there something depressing about us riding in a hearse on Christmas Day?

Everyone stares into the windows with such sad expressions.”

“It’s the only car that would fit all our bags,” Luke said dryly. At six feet five, he towered over the two women. He had silver hair and what Nora liked to call Jimmy Stewart good looks. Nora was five feet three inches short, she always said, with blond hair and a patrician face. I fall somewhere in between, Regan thought. She was five feet seven inches tall with coloring known as black Irish: dark hair, blue eyes, and skin so white she could get a sunburn at 6 A.M.

“One thing we’ll never have to worry about is having anyone accuse us of being normal,” Regan observed.

“Normal is a little dull, don’t you think, dear?” Nora asked. “Besides, nobody is normal. Just scratch the surface.”

“The problem with us is you only have to sniff, not scratch. We’re going to pull up to a private plane in an extra-long vehicle with curtains on the windows.”

“Kendra won’t mind. She’ll think it’s fun,” Nora commented as she locked the front door behind them. “Doesn’t that Christmas wreath look pretty?”

Luke and Nora got in front with the driver. Regan squeezed in the back, pondering the day when she’d be riding in this same space in a horizontal position, her eyes shut for good.

Forty-five minutes later, after listening to the special “Imus in the Morning” pretaped Christmas show, they pulled up to Kendra and Sam’s private plane. People along the highway had stared into the windows of the hearse and had been taken aback to see the passengers laughing and the driver pounding his fist on the steering wheel as he guffawed.

Thank you, Imus, Regan thought as she chuckled at the nationally popular DJ’s imitation of a deranged Santa, for making us seem even weirder than usual.

“Merry Christmas!” Kendra greeted them. Her flaming-red hair and sea-green eyes were vibrant. Sam stood beside her, white-haired with crisp blue eyes and a dazzling smile. They looked like an ad for the good life.

“Welcome!” Sam boomed. “Regan, it’s good to have you.”

“Thanks for letting me hitch a ride.” Regan smiled. “This is the only way to fly, huh?”

“Where’s your boarding pass?” Sam asked her.

“What?” Regan said with a puzzled expression.

Sam slapped her on the back. “Just kidding. But you don’t get any frequent-flier miles for this trip.”

Regan laughed. “I’ll make the sacrifice.”