Free The Snow Maiden by Eden Royce Page A

go to my favorite restaurant because it’s one my boss takes clients to.” No offense to Dr. Lawrence, but yoga and meditation weren’t helping. I focused on doing them perfectly instead of just doing.
    “You need a change of scenery. Get on completely unfamiliar territory.”
    “Like where? Deciding on a vacation spot would be stress enough.”
    The doctor rubbed the bridge of his aquiline nose. “I know. That’s why I want you to stay at the Surf for a while. It’s right on the water. The sound of the ocean will be soothing.” He reached into his desk for a tan card with the words “Surfside Condos” embossed in hunter green copperplate. “My good friend runs it and sits on the board. We went to school together.”
    “High school?”
    “No.” He shifted in his leather swivel chair. And I knew.
    “Ah,” I said. “He’s a shrink too. Feel better knowing he’s keeping an eye on me?”
    “Yes, he’s a psychiatrist as well. I will feel better because you’ll have someone around if you need anything.”
    “Like what? A sedative?”
    “I told you before.” He tossed my well-padded file onto the spotless cherry desk. “You don’t need medication. There’s nothing wrong with you a little fun and enjoyment won’t fix.”
    “Then why do I pay you so much?”
    “Cheaper than a condo.”
    I gave him a chilly look as I stood and took the card.
    “Where are you going? We still have fifteen minutes left in our session.”
    “That’s enough social interaction for one day. I’m going to get a drink.”
    “But you can’t–”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll look up your shrink buddy.” I glanced at the business card: David Stroker. “Dr. Stroker? Good God. At least it isn’t Dr. Finger.”
    #
    Taxicab exhaust hovered in the air as I entered the restaurant alone. I told the hostess at Musashi it would only be one for dinner. She looked at me as though I were a leper and suggested – strongly – that I sit at the bar. I toyed with the idea of telling her curly hair looks ridiculous on Asians, but I decided against it and mentally patted myself on the back for my restraint.
    At the bar, I had a chance to take in the restaurant. It was beautiful: the circular bar was in the center of the restaurant and all tables branched out from that nucleus. Crafted in dark wood, the reflective tops of the intimate tables caressed the candlelight. The bar’s stools had padded seats and backs, an invitation to linger and enjoy several perfectly poured drinks.
    I ordered a glass of Snow Maiden and sat as far from the crowd as possible. I wanted to see people, but not necessarily interact with them.
    I’d ordered my second glass when he came in and sat in the seat next to me. The slight scent of his cologne wrapped its curly tendrils around me and I found myself understanding Jennifer’s decision tonight. He smiled as he sat down and I could almost hear the “ting” of a toothpaste commercial. He ordered and looked out across the restaurant until the bartender set a wine glass of milky liquid in front of me.
    “What is that?” he asked, his interest evident. His voice was low and resonant and its vibration seduced my ears. For the first time in recent memory, I was jealous of a glass of wine.
    “It’s sake,” I said.
    “Sake?” My heart thumped when he used the Japanese pronunciation. “It’s white and … opaque.”
    “Yes, it is,” I responded, feeling superior. “It’s unfiltered.” I smiled, lips closed, as I turned the stem of the glass around and around in my fingers. “Ever tried it?”
    “No, I’ve had sake, but not like that.”
    I reached over his forearm and grabbed a straw from the black lacquer holder on the bar. I dipped it into my glass and when it filled, held my finger over the top opening. “Here. Try it.”
    He continued to look at me, unblinking, even as the bartender set his bourbon and branch in front of him. Heat moved inside me like a lazy kitten, yawning and stretching as it woke