When Autumn Leaves: A Novel (5 page)

That afternoon, Ellie made a few brief and unrevealing phone calls and pushed around a lot of paperwork on her desk. The goings-on of the office outside her door were a kind of ever-present buzz, like clothes turning over and over in a dryer.

At 5:15 she was ready to call it a day. She turned off the computer and straightened up a bit, because she knew she wouldn’t want to walk back into a messy office come January. People were already starting to get ready for the party. The caterers were setting up a huge buffet table. Max Moore, the local DJ, was bringing in speakers, and those brave few who had offered to do the decorating were stringing paper from ceiling fans.

Ellie was walking towards the door when she noticed Tucker Bradshaw still on the phone at his desk. He happened to look up as she was passing and she threw him a smile. He put up an index finger and she stopped. He covered the mouthpiece with his free hand.

“You coming tonight?” he barely whispered.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good, see you there,” he said, and turned his attention back to the phone.

Maybe there’s something to what Nina said today, Ellie thought to herself as she headed up Brigid’s Way. She liked Tucker; he was handsome in a very unassuming manner. He was tall and a bit lanky, but not in that now popular junkie look kind of way. He had a head full of not-too-closely-cropped black curls and lovely blue eyes. He was originally from North Carolina and had that Southern gentleman charm going for him. Every time Ellie asked Tucker a question, he answered with a “Yes ma’am!” that always unhinged her spine momentarily. But it wasn’t like she thought about him seriously.

Ellie didn’t know much of love, but she knew enough to know her love life was pretty sad. Any relationship Ellie had attempted in the past was, unsurprisingly, a failure. She had to go out of her way to get a man’s attention, because, of course, men didn’t notice her otherwise. The ball never came close to her court. This always seemed to put her at such a disadvantage that the emotional investment eventually seemed too big a burden for Ellie to handle. She concentrated on making her life full without a partner, and it worked. Mostly.

Brigid’s Way was beginning to come alive. It wasn’t just that the decorations and various lights were out to signal the celebration of Solstice, but the citizens were out as well, talking, laughing, offering warm cups of cider and coffee. The smell of burning logs hung in the air, and Ellie began to feel somewhat restored after her empty and demoralized day. She dodged the various ladders standing against trees half strung with lights. Before she knew it, she was at Justy’s indigo door.

The shop was dark except for the light coming from his store’s elaborate Solstice window display. Ellie laughed at the twinkling oversized boots, obviously belonging to the North Pole’s most famous resident, framed by two layers of white and blue fairy lights. The smell of cloves and citrus floated in the air. On the counter, a brown paper bag stood with its top neatly folded down in one perfect pleat. On the bag was a note:

Ellie found herself strangely disappointed that she couldn’t see Justy in person. She felt a little sad at the thought of him all by himself tonight, working away. She was tempted to go ahead and find him back there and at least thank him, to make sure he knew his work didn’t go unappreciated. But then she thought better of it. Ellie knew the value of privacy. She took the bag and walked out the door.

The sky had turned to full night. There was a crescent moon that shone hazy through low clouds, and at about five minutes away from her house, the first few hesitant flakes of snow began to fall. This was her favorite type of snow, the type that made its way down to earth in perfect round balls like little bits of cotton candy. Despite the snow, the night was clear, with little wind and barely any moisture. It seemed like the perfect night for a Solstice Lighting, and Ellie resolved to enjoy it.

Ellie made her way up the familiar twist of Wicker Road. Even with just the porch light on, her house looked inviting and settled. The single oak that took up the majority of her front lawn was already beginning to collect the first measures of snow. She quickly walked up the three steps and went in.

There was nothing grandiose about the place, but it was a perfect fit for Ellie. The house looked a little like an old English cottage. It was tiny, reminding her of a dollhouse. Which suited her perfectly. Any bigger and the place would have echoed, and Ellie would have been aware of how acutely alone she was. She filled the walls with various pieces of artwork, and her queen-sized bed with pillows she made from pieces of vintage fabric. There were two fireplaces and wall-to-wall hardwood floors with perfectly worn-in wainscoting. The back rooms were all windows that could be opened up so it seemed almost a part of the garden. Ellie’s study was lined with bookshelves on every wall except the alcove, in front of which she had placed an old secretary. She even had a small balcony off the master that looked over the garden and was a wonderful place to read.

She flicked on the light in her bathroom just long enough to light some candles and started to run a bath in her claw-footed tub. She headed into her bedroom, unloaded her coat and scarf on the chair and went into her closest. Her clothes came in two varieties: dark and darker (or in the summer, beige and beiger). She supposed she’d settle for the tunic ensemble she wore last year. Then she remembered the new eggplant shirt she’d bought on sale a couple of months ago. Suddenly revitalized, she took the outfit and laid it on her bed. She then emptied out next to it the brown paper bag Justy had put her shoes in. Her breath caught in her throat.

She could hardly believe these were her shoes; she had to double-check the manufacturer label to see that they were. Where once the leather had been sagging and scuffed, it was now supple and flawless. Justy had cut the front down so that the cleavage of the toes could be seen. He had taken that sturdy but rather chunky heel off completely and replaced it with a thin stiletto. Justy seemed to know the exact height to make the heel sexy, but not so terrifyingly high that Ellie would have to worry about tripping and breaking her neck. Along the front, just above the toe, was a black suede strip flourished with an elaborate suede flower and a metal bud, making it look both modern and feminine.

The shoes were gorgeous. They looked haute couture, although Ellie knew they had come from the village shoe shop. She would have to wear her boots and take them with her in her tote. They were too precious to expose to the weather.

After her bath, Ellie dressed quickly and blew out her hair. She had little makeup, but what she did have she applied. She wore her grandmother’s Edwardian drop earrings and overall felt pleased with how she looked. She was even more pleased to realize she cared how she looked. She pulled her coat on, rewrapped Justy’s special shoes, and walked downstairs. Ellie opened the door, frisking herself while still inside to make sure she had everything. Satisfied that she did, she made her way to her car.

Brigid’s Way was heaving with people and the snow continued to fall in perfect white tufts. The sidewalks were filled with folding chairs and tables covered with an array of vats of cider and huge coffee urns. Luckily, Ellie had a parking space in the lot behind the office. She locked her car and headed up the small alley that spilled onto the street. She heard voices, soft and beckoning, caroling a winter song. The spirit of Solstice seemed a tangible thing Ellie could pull from the air. This was happiness, she thought. The senses connected, from everything and everyone around her.

The door to the office had been left partially open. Ellie pulled off her boots and stuffed them in a plastic bag, which she stowed on a shelf above the radiator. She pulled Justy’s shoes, her shoes, gingerly out of her tote. She marveled at how comfortably they fit. He must have put a liner in there or something, she thought. She stood, taller than she had been moments earlier, and felt put-together, finished. She walked up the stairs confidently.

Ellie was later than she had anticipated. The party was in full swing. Max had on some stellar 70s tune, and the buffet table had been picked over more than a few times. Ellie wasn’t all that hungry, but she was thirsty. As she walked to the bar, she noticed that the volunteer decorating committee had done a great job. Hanging from the ceiling were dozens of individually cut snowflakes, decorated with a colorful variety of sparkles so that they glinted from each desk light below. She poured herself some warm cider into a silver paper cup.

There had to be a good fifty or sixty people there. A pretty good turnout. She knew most of the people, coworkers and their families. From the corner of her eye she saw Tucker, talking with another man she didn’t recognize, probably a date of someone’s. Tucker looked in her direction and noticed that she had been staring at him. Tonight, Ellie thought, I will not be mortified by how completely obvious I am. Tonight we are celebrating. I will let winter reinvent me. There’s nothing wrong with looking at someone.

During this inner dialogue, Tucker had excused himself from his conversation and was making a beeline toward her. By the time she looked up, he was a foot away from her. “It looks like you’re the last one to arrive, Ellie. Did you plan a big entrance or what?” Tucker said sweetly as the song began to fade from Max’s speakers.

Ellie opened her mouth to reply, but she wasn’t the only one who was surprised by what came out.
“Oh! You got me! I knew everyone was waiting for me to arrive so they could start having a good time!!”

Every head in the room turned to her direction. Ellie’s hand flew to her mouth as she realized she had just sung out at the top of her lungs. Tucker’s eyebrows rose and his mouth turned into a smile. “Watcha drinkin’ there, Ell?” he asked.

“Oh my God!”
she warbled operatically. The drama in her voice made her feel like she was in a low-rent Wagner piece, done very badly.

The entire party was staring at her in mixed expressions of amusement and concern, not sure yet if this was some kind of party game.
“I don’t understand . . . I can’t stop . . . I just can’t stop singing!! Help!”
Ellie sang as she backed away from him and into the wall.

She had lost all control over her mouth. Had she fallen asleep in the bath? Was this some horrible nightmare? Something in Ellie broke, she felt small and trapped. Tears began to pool around her eyes. This is what crazy is, she thought. I am an insane person now. She tried desperately to gain control of her words and thoughts, but they slipped away from her, dancing circles around her head. When Tucker saw that Ellie was now in serious distress, he moved toward her.

“Ellie? Are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay? Do I sound okay?”
What had before been a simple explosion of song, ridiculous and grandiose, was now tempered into a kind of rhythm. Ellie’s voice was sultry and oddly intimate, phrased like an old jazz standard.

Tucker looked into her eyes and she knew he could see her terror. Maybe if this had been any town besides Avening, somebody would have called an ambulance and Ellie would have been strapped down and drugged within the hour. But in Avening, and most especially on the night of the Solstice, people had been known to go through odd transformations.

Their coworkers begin to gather and show concern for Ellie, who had backed herself up against the wall, her palms and fingers pressed into it, looking ready to spring. But instead of flying forward, Ellie slid down to the floor, her breathing irregular and rapid. Stella, with surprising efficiency, went to Ellie’s side at almost the exact same moment as Nina Bruno. In a gracefully executed move, Nina squatted close to Ellie’s ear.

“Ellie,” Nina hissed. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but this isn’t the place for it. Pull yourself together, for chrissakes. People are trying to enjoy themselves here, and you’re turning it into West Side Story.”

Stella glanced at Nina crossly, and Ellie felt her shame swap itself for anger. Nina’s insensitivity lit a match in her belly and shot through her like a fuse. Could Nina really believe that Ellie would do such a thing purposely? Ellie Penhaligan, who had never in her life asked for any kind of attention? If she believes that, she doesn’t really know me at all, Ellie thought.

“What!? No, just get out of my face right now, Nina!”
Ellie belted in a Janis Joplin kind of way, without an ounce of control. Her coworkers looked at Nina hard enough for Nina to tell that she had uncharacteristically done the very worst thing she could have done. Nina opened her mouth to make a joke or diffuse the situation, but she must have sensed the crowd could not be won over to her side, so she backed away. However, unlike Ellie, Nina Bruno didn’t have any practice with not drawing attention to herself. She very obviously stomped away, fists clenched, her body rigid and awkward.

“Okay, Ellie. I want you to breathe, Sugar,” Stella said sweetly. “There’s no real reason to get yourself into a panic.”

Ellie was still holding on to the anger that she hadn’t completely released on Nina.
“No reason to panic?!”
she sang.
“Listen to me!! This isn’t me! I would never in my life . . . I have never . . . done anything like this! Somebody . . . has to help me!”

“No, what I meant is, okay, this is alarming. But you’re in a safe place here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. These are your friends . . . right, guys?” Stella looked to everyone for backup.

Ellie expected a murmur, but instead there was a steady chorus of encouragement from everyone that had gathered around them. Ellie looked up, and saw on their faces not horror, not even indifference, but real concern, some even smiling in a supportive way.