Jake Tyler was waiting for me when the shuttle landed at Logan Airport. I dropped my bags and threw my arms around his neck. 'I was so afraid that something would happen to get in the way of these forty-eight hours. More murder and mayhem. Or a snowstorm.'He picked up my tote and we started walking to the Cape Air counter. 'You got lucky on the first two. There's a front coming through Boston in about three hours, headed for the Cape and islands. So if we don't get out of here soon, we're likely to be stranded.'The gray sky was thick with clouds, and had dimmed to charcoal before we boarded the five o'clock flight to Martha's Vineyard. The nine-passenger, twin-engine Cessna took off after a long runway delay, and the heavy chop in the air slowed the usual thirty- three-minute passage to almost forty-five. The wind bounced us around in our narrow seats in the rear of the plane, and we circled out over Nantucket Sound until the tower cleared us for landing. The pilot lowered us out of the fog to see the white-capped surf pounding the island's southern shore and guided us into the airport, surrounded by the tall pines of the state forest.
I had been talking throughout most of the ride about the case-Lola Dakota's life and the tragic circumstances of her death. Jake had listened carefully, and interrupted from time to time with the skilled cross-examination of a good investigative reporter. 'I'm letting you get this out of your system now,' he chided me. 'I'm putting a two-day moratorium on all autopsy results, serological reports, and police investigations. World crises, too.'
He leaned over and kissed my lips as we taxied to the small terminal, and then the pilot stepped out on the wing to come around, open the door, and lower the exit stairs. 'Is that acceptable to the People, Ms. Cooper?' 'Yes, Your Honor.'
I had asked my caretaker and his wife to set up the house for us-turn on heat, make up the bed, arrange flowers that were delivered a day earlier, stock the groceries that I had ordered, put champagne on ice, and lay a stack of logs in the fireplace. He had also left my car at the airport lot so that we could drive ourselves home whenever we arrived.
A thin dusting of snow coated the parked cars. We let the engine warm up and put the defroster on to melt the ice that had formed on the windshield. I had dressed warmly in slacks and a sweater, topped by my ski jacket, but the bitter cold worked at my nose and ears and within seconds gave both of our cheeks a ruddy glow. The local radio station played generous helpings of the island's musical treasures, James Taylor and Carly Simon, and I tuned in as she was singing the chorus to 'Anticipation.' Like Carly, I was thinking about how right tonight might be.
The twenty-minute ride up island was quick and quiet. There were no reminders of the traffic of the summer people, who poured onto the Vineyard between Memorial Day and Labor Day, renting beach houses, filling the small inns, and crowding the tiny streets in town. My old farmhouse, way out on a hilltop, overlooking an endless expanse of sea and sky, was one of the most peaceful places I had ever known. Whatever the horrors that crossed my desk every day, this was where I came to be restored.
South Road's wintry darkness gave way to the high beam of my headlights. Without the leafy fullness of the summer foliage, houses set back from the road were visible this time of year. Many were lighted for the holiday season, decorated with garlands of greens, ribbons of red and white velvet, and candles set on windowsills in the traditional New England fashion. I had bought this home with Adam, in the months before our wedding was to have been celebrated. For almost ten years thereafter, it had been impossible for me to think of it as my own. Then, with the tragic shooting of my friend Isabella Lascar, I had questioned whether I could actually come back here at all. I renovated and redecorated, knowing those changes were merely cosmetic and couldn't reach the soul of my trepidation. But since the summer, the great joy I had found with Jake had renewed my excitement and my love for this unique place.
I made the last turn at Beetlebung Corner and pulled into a parking space in front of the Chilmark Store. Nothing else was open at my end of the island, so the general store was our lifeline to all essentials. I ran up the steps, clogged in summer with beach-goers, cyclists, joggers, workmen-tourists and regulars-who sat and gossiped over morning coffee and
My driveway was only two miles farther up the road. Wind began to howl around us as I drove up the last hill before the house. As always, my heartbeat quickened with delight at the prospect of coming home. I slowed the car as we approached the familiar stand of mailboxes on the side of the road, then drove in through the granite gateposts, startling a doe and her two fawns, who were foraging on the snowy ground for something to eat. They darted off and I drove up next to the door. Upon each arrival, I drank in the beauty of my view. Headlights off, we sat in the car without speaking as I gazed off at the dim lights in the distance, till Jake caressed my neck and again brought my mouth to his.
'C'mon, Mrs. Claus. We've got work to do. Aren't you hungry?'
I looked at my watch and saw that it was almost eight o'clock, as we took our bags from the car and went inside the house. 'I've got the whole evening scheduled. You're not allowed to be hungry yet. Dinner is going to be at eleven, so that we can begin our official celebration at midnight.'
'Mind if I nibble on an earlobe or a collarbone till then?' Jake was following in my footsteps as I went from room to room, turning on lamps and illuminating the scented candles. 'There's got to be something unplanned, every now and then, that I can slip into your demanding schedule.'
A small tree, not even two feet high, had been set up beside the stone hearth. There was a giant box, gift- wrapped and ribboned, from the great toy store FAO Schwarz. 'I hope none of my wires got crossed. That's probably something that was supposed to be shipped to my niece.'
'You're not the only one with a Christmas list, Goldilocks.'
I unpacked two red stockings from my tote and laid them across the back of the sofa. My mother had needlepointed them for each of us, our names stitched in white and green on the cuff. 'Why don't you put some music on while I clean up?'
I went into the bedroom and undressed. I stared out my window over acres of land ringed by ancient stone walls, secure that the problems against which I protected myself in the city couldn't reach me here. The fishing village of Menemsha was no longer visible across the pond through the haze as the first soft flakes of snow began to blow against the panes of the French doors and melt. This was my sanctuary.
I set the timer for the steam shower at ten minutes and the temperature to ninety-five degrees, stepped inside, and reclined on the wooden bench. The room filled with mist and I began to sweat. Memories of Lola Dakota's videoed faux shooting swirled and mixed with visions of the actual bloodstained elevator shaft. I wanted the toxins to be removed from my body and my mind to be cleared of all thoughts of death and violence. The physical cleansing worked, but the opportunity to do nothing except think made it impossible for me to erase the mental images.
After six or seven minutes, I shut off the steam and turned on the nozzle, holding my face up to the twelve- inch showerhead that cascaded hot water all over me. I washed my body and shampooed my hair. Jake was outside the steam room when I emerged, standing naked and holding a bath sheet to wrap me in. We kissed again, long this time, and tasted each other lovingly, until I rested my head against his shoulder blade. He stroked my wet curls and pressed his lips against the nape of my neck.
I led him over to the bed. 'What makes you think this was unscheduled? You never give me credit for anything.'
Jake's mouth moved along the lines of my body, kissing my arms first, and then up and down the length of my back. I rolled over to face him, bringing his face up to meet mine and inviting him to be inside me.
'Not so fast,' he whispered.
'There's time for slower later. I've missed you so badly this week. I've needed you, Jake.'
We both stopped talking and lost ourselves in making love to each other. When we had finished, I nestled against his lean body and rested my head on his outstretched arm. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again I realized that I had actually fallen asleep for almost an hour. 'I'm sorry. I must-'
'You must have needed it, darling. Relax.' Jake had already showered and dressed for the evening, in jeans and a cashmere crewneck sweater. I showered again and this time when I walked into the bedroom, there was a long red shiny box wrapped with a gauzy silver ribbon on the bed. 'I'm such a baby. I'm going to wait till midnight.' 'No, this one's a gift for
