Lighting Candles in the Snow (14 page)

Salt Water Taffy

(Like pounding on Aggression Cookies, pulling taffy is another good way to work off steam and get some exercise while you’re at it.)

2 cups sugar

1½ cups water

1 cup white corn syrup

1 teaspoon salt (from the Great Salt Lake if you want to make authentic Great Salt Lake Salt Water Taffy)

½ teaspoon glycerin

1 teaspoon flavoring extract of your choice (vanilla, peppermint, lemon)

5–7 drops food coloring, if desired

2 tablespoons butter, plus extra for handling

Wax paper

Cut wax paper into 3
"
squares. Set aside. Generously coat a cookie sheet with butter.

Mix sugar, water, corn syrup, salt, and glycerin in a heavy saucepan. Bring to boil and cook to a temperature of 258º on the candy thermometer.

Remove from heat and let stand for three minutes. Add flavor extract, color and butter and stir vigorously until butter is melted. Pour into buttered cookie sheet. Cool until lukewarm and taffy can be handled.

Rub a small amount of butter on your hands. Stretch and fold over and over until taffy turns paler in color, for about ten minutes. Roll taffy into a long rope. Using a buttered knife, cut into individual pieces and wrap in wax paper squares. Store taffy in an airtight container to avoid moisture. Moisture will cause taffy to become sticky.

Chapter Eighteen

T
wo days had passed without a word from Jeremy. I felt like a fool. I had gone from “the hottest guy I’ve ever known who I might want to get back with” to “I hate him more than ever and never want to see his face again.” Actually, it was quite typical of our relationship overall.

Zac called me that evening. Again, how much classier than Jeremy.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Zac began the conversation.

“Good, how are you?” I smiled wide. If you smile while talking on the phone, your voice comes across happier and more energetic. I needed to practice being happier and more energetic. The new me.

“Just wanted to say thanks for lunch today. And for the walk. It was fun hanging out with you,” Zac said.

“Me, too. I’m glad you stopped by.”

We talked into the night. Same as yesterday on our walk, I found Zac easy to talk to. He didn’t have the enchantingly low and warm phone voice that Jeremy did. In fact, Zac’s voice came across a little high, something I hadn’t noticed before. Considering how tall and athletic he was, it surprised me.

Still, why worry about something as minor as a tad too-high phone voice? The more I thought of Zac, the more I liked him. I had already forgiven him for his bad behavior that night in my apartment. Maybe I had given off sexual signals without realizing it. Men, especially those on the prowl, are more sensitive to that kind of thing than women.

All over the Internet are tips on how to come on to someone, like widening the eyes, licking the lips, cheeks flushing, casual touching, showing teeth. Maybe I had exhibited the non-verbal cues without realizing it. Maybe, subconsciously, I really had wanted Zac.

After we hung up, it was close to midnight. We had been on the phone nearly three hours. Zac and I could get the friendship thing going at least, possibly something more; and it would keep me occupied, keep my mind off Jeremy until I got the hell out of Utah.

The next morning, three days since Jeremy and I had spent the night together, I had a job interview downtown. I would keep it, of course, although I had pretty well decided to move to California as soon as I put together the details. I would find somewhere small and cheap to live in San Jose, and once I got settled, I’d take temp jobs until the doctor had his office set up. I’d miss my nice apartment, and Sheila and the Rahimians, not to mention Suzie, Rob and the kids, but I needed a change of scene. California it would be.

My interview was for yet another receptionist job, this time for a trucking company located in the industrial area west of Salt Lake City. I must have had the look of a receptionist, because those kinds of interviews kept coming my way. That and retail. Entry level crap. Nothing for a highly motivated and ambitious college graduate with honors to get excited about. There had been a few offers, but none that sounded good enough to take. I wasn’t quite desperate enough to take a job in a sweaty warehouse working ten hours a week setting up deliveries for used appliances, and oh, yes, you’ll be doing sales calls on the side. No, thank you.

This trucking company job seemed promising. A nice clean office, no sales, just answering the phone, filing and bookkeeping. Not a career move, but definitely better than retail.

My boss would be the owner’s wife, a pleasant woman of forty-something, who looked directly at me during the interview and didn’t overdo the smiling. I liked that. Being a Midwesterner, I felt uncomfortable with the excessive smiling habits of Utah women. Midwesterners are more reserved until they get to know you, and too much smiling among casual acquaintances is suspect. This woman, I think her name was Luann, impressed me. I liked her. I could see myself working with her.

I didn’t mention my potential job offer in San Jose. At one point in the interview, I decided that if Luann offered me the job, I’d reconsider leaving Utah. Moving could be such a hassle. I hadn’t yet interviewed with the doctor, so it’s not like it was a done deal. I hadn’t promised anyone anything.

Luann said she had several more applicants to see and then she’d let me know. I told her I was interested, and that I hoped to hear from her soon. I figured I’d give her until next week, and then if I hadn’t heard anything I’d call her back and check in.

Pulling out of the parking lot, I realized that Jeremy’s mom lived nearby, in the Rose Park area right off the freeway. I hadn’t seen her since Christmas of last year. She was essentially a shut in, sitting at home alone with the dog and the TV. I really should stop in and say hello. It would be a nice gesture, and it would keep me out of the apartment for a little longer.

I entered the freeway and headed south.

Ten minutes later, I pulled into her drive, relieved that Jeremy’s Suburu was nowhere in sight. Not that I expected to see it. Funny that in the recent time we were together, I hadn’t asked Jeremy where he currently lived, and he hadn’t offered the information. I was fairly certain it wouldn’t be with his mom but one could never tell.

It took her awhile to answer the door. I could hear movement inside, and the dog yapping. Mrs. London was a big woman. It would take her some effort to get out of the chair and make her way to the front door. I waited patiently, kind of nervous in case Jeremy answered instead of his mom. I half anticipated seeing him open the door, his eyes half-closed and looking me up and down in that way he had, like he couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t Jeremy. Mrs. London gave a cry of surprise when she saw me. “Well, look who’s here.” She stepped aside and waved me in. “Have a seat, Karoline. Move that junk aside there on the sofa.”

I did so, and she sat back down in her chair, a beige recliner that had two tables on either side piled high with everything she used while sitting in her chair.

We gaped at each other for a long moment, until I broke the silence. “I was in the area, at a job interview, and thought I’d stop by. I hope that’s okay.”

She put the TV on mute and narrowed her eyes at me, as though wondering what the whole story was.

“In the neighborhood, huh?” she said with a chuckle.

What did she know? Had Jeremy said anything to her about us?

“Um, yes, for possible employment. It’s a receptionist job at a trucking company north of here, off Redwood Road. I think I have a pretty good chance. The owner’s wife interviewed me, and we seemed to hit it off. Well, actually, if I get hired, she would be my boss, not him,” I rambled.

She seemed interested in my dull tale. “You’re looking for work? What happened with your last job? What was it, something in finance?”

“The mortgage business. The company I worked for got sold and operations were moved to Ohio. I would have had to go there and I didn’t want to live in Ohio. Besides, the way things are going in that industry, I doubt if the new company will be in business a year from now.”

Looked like Jeremy hadn’t talked to her recently. He would have told her that I lost my job.

“What’s here for you anyway, Karoline? Your folks are back there, aren’t they? Is it Ohio, or Indiana? Why stay in Utah? Do you have a boyfriend?”

My, that was a lot of questions. “No, um, no boyfriend. I grew up in Illinois but my parents retired and now live in Florida. My sister’s still in Utah though, and her family, of course.”

Mrs. London nodded in that sage way she had, as though she knew everything about everyone. She said, “People who grow up in Utah never want to leave, and those from outside never want to stay. I’d think you’d be ready to leave by now. What’s it been? Five years?”

“I moved here eight years ago, and then I met Jeremy. And we were married for six.”

When I said his name, I got butterflies and felt giddy. Stupid, foolish girl! What was it about that guy? A total jerk and a loser, and here I am sitting in his mother’s house wishing she would talk to me about him. Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy. Oh God, oh God. I tried to think of Zac Kline and our date coming up on Saturday. I focused on visualizing Zac’s tanned, handsome face and broad shoulders, Zac’s long legs, but all I saw was Jeremy. Damn him!

I felt my face flush. Nothing got past this woman’s sharp eyes. I glanced away, wishing the dog would jump on me as a distraction.

“I couldn’t go back there,” I explained. “The winters are horrible, and the summers dreadful with 98% humidity. I like Utah weather.”

Mrs. London gestured toward the window where I could see snowflakes beginning their descent.

“You like this?” she said with disdain. “Snow? In March?”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me. Utah winters are mild compared to the Midwest.”

California winters will be even better, I thought. I can’t wait to get out of this place. Nothing is left for me in Utah. No job, no husband, no boyfriend, no lover. There was the date Saturday night with Zac, but it seemed faraway and unreal. I couldn’t remember what time he said he’d pick me up, or what we planned to do. I tried to focus, to remember, but it was blurry, like a fading dream.

“I hate the snow,” Mrs. London said, watching it flurry outside the window.

The drapes were pulled, with a slight opening, barely enough to see the weather outside.

I nodded. “I’m always surprised by how many people in Utah hate the snow. It’s like people either love it or hate it,” I said, thinking of someone I knew who loved it.

Who was that again? Zac, right? I felt like my mind was disappearing as I sat there in a haze, trying to make conversation with Jeremy’s mom.

“I’m neutral about snow,” I continued. I was from the Midwest, central Illinois, farm country. I could talk about the weather with the best of them. I could talk weather as long as I needed to. “Snow doesn’t bother me. What I don’t like are the bone-chilling winters of the Midwest, that icy wind that blows right through you. Utah winters aren’t bad compared to Illinois.”

Mrs. London let that comment hang in the air. Finally she said, “You should call Jeremy. He’s still in love with you, did you know that?”

Oh God, no I did not know that. I closed my mouth, to keep my tongue from hanging out, because I felt like it might be.

“Wha-at?” I said, voice coming out in a crack. I cleared my throat. “What?”

Was she to be trusted? Was she toying with me?

Jeremy, what are you to me? What am I to you?

“Not that he will admit, of course. He doesn’t talk to me about women, or much of anything for that matter. I don’t see him much. Not what I’d like, but I suppose that’s how every old neglected mother feels, isn’t it?”

Aha. That explained it. It was wishful thinking on her part. She wants her son to settle down and give her a grandchild; and therefore she’s imagining things that aren’t there, such as her son being serious about an ex-wife who means nothing to him.

“I can’t call Jeremy,” I explained in a slow voice, as much to myself as to her. “We are divorced. It’s over. Nothing he has said or done, now or in the recent past, will convince me otherwise.”

Why, oh, why did he have to come by the other night and open the old wounds?

Never mind. It was a one night stand, nothing more. We were two people who used to be in love once upon a long time ago revisiting their lost passion.

I would go out with Zac, and then I’d get the hell out of Dodge. To California, pard’ner, where life would begin anew.

“I should be going.” I shifted in my seat, wondering what I had hoped to gain by coming here.

“You don’t understand my son, do you, Karoline? I don’t believe you ever did. You loved him, that was obvious, to put up with his shenanigans for as long as you did.”

Shenanigans? Is that what you call it? Oh, you must mean the cheating, the lying, the taking me for granted and treating me like dirt.

Out loud I said, “I don’t suppose I do understand him, or the way he treated me. Some days he acted like I was the most important person in the world to him, and other times like I meant nothing at all.”

She shook her head. “No. You did not understand Jeremy.”

Now I was irritated. Everything was my fault because I didn’t understand him? “Excuse me for being just a little bitter about this, Mrs. London, but his behavior is inexcusable. I mean was . . .
was
inexcusable.
Understanding someone
shouldn’t be required in order for them to treat you with respect and consideration. There are rules of common courtesy and human decency.”

“Did he ever tell you about his dad?”

“That his father died when he was a baby? He said he never knew his dad. It was only him and you.”

“That’s a lie. There’s more to the story.”

What? Jeremy lying? Big surprise.

And then Mrs. London shared with me the truth about her son.

An hour later, bewildered and tearful, I said goodbye to her. We hugged at the door.

“He’s in love with you, Karoline,” were her parting words. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

When I left Mrs. London’s house, I hurried home and changed into my sweats and running shoes. I added a long-sleeved jersey and a sweatshirt. The snow had stopped and left the sky a brilliant blue, with the sun shining and melting whatever flakes hit the ground. It would be at least fifteen degrees colder in the mountains. I didn’t care how cold it was, I was going.

I texted Zac as I finished dressing.
Hi. Finished a job interview, going hiking.

Shortly after, he called back.

“How did the interview go?” he asked.

“Fairly well. I liked the boss. The job would be fine. Not exactly the career move I hoped for but who knows, it might turn into something.”

“Will you take it if they make an offer?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer this. I debated a moment before telling him, “I’m not sure. I may move to California.”

“What? When did this happen?”

“My sister told me about it yesterday. A doctor in Rob’s office is starting up in San Jose and wants to interview in Salt Lake to have staff lined up. I’m considering it.”