Free Earth Colors by Sarah Andrews Page B

know, Ray.”
    “I know, I know. When you blow someone’s trust like I did with you, well … you’ve simply blown it, and they’re not going to trust you again all at once, so you have to earn it back in tiny bits. This isn’t a boy-girl thing I’m trying to press on you, so please relax. I just don’t like to leave it like it was. I want to be worthy of your trust, because you’re someone I admire.”
    My brain had now reached full boil, and I wondered if steam was pouring out of my ears. I did not feel admirable in the least, or even trustworthy,
let alone someone whose trust should be sought. I felt like a prize idiot who had been mistaken for a woman with sense. I wanted simultaneously to mount a valiant steed in my Joan of Arc suit and to turn around and kick this man in the shins, and I could not explain either urge to myself.
    We walked on.
    Eventually we turned right, and then right again, passing between the square Victorian grandeur of the City and County Building and the ultramodern curves of the new city library, and by and by we were back at Salt Lake Roasters. “Everything going okay with Faye?” he asked. “Or at least as well as might be expected?”
    I clenched my teeth. “Oh, she’s doing just fine,” I said, a bit too forcefully. I was thinking that right now, she was on the road with what’s-his-name, laughing and preening, preening and laughing, and that Sloane Renee was probably strapped into her little car seat all by herself in the back, all lonesome. I imagined her crying, unheard, ignored. I tried to erase that thought, not wanting her to feel an instant’s pain, then I decided that I was going insane as I felt a sharp urge to grab Ray by the wrist, give him a yank toward me, and say, Want to make a baby? Right now? Right here ?
    But I did not, because who’d want to get it on with a nut case? Oblivious to what was going on inside my head and heart, Ray gave me a final smile, or perhaps he gave it to himself. “Thanks for meeting with me,” he said. “I’ve got to go.”
    And he left.

7
    YOU’D THINK I WOULD HAVE FOUND IT PLEASING TO RECEIVE AN apology like that, but something about it did not stick to my ribs. In fact, I felt quite annoyed at Ray, and the longer I thought about it, the stronger that annoyance grew. So I did the only reasonable thing: I pushed the conundrum of the meeting out of my mind and stormed into Salt Lake Roasters in search of a cup of coffee, muttering to myself that if there were a twelve-step program for caffeine addicts, I’d make a good poster child for it.
    I met a pal at the counter: the incomparable Tanya, the woman who managed the local FBI office, the one where Tom Latimer worked before he married Faye.
    Tanya was her usual appallingly cheerful self. She was just purchasing a latte and a chocolate cookie, and she invited me to join her for a tour of the roof of the new library.
    I liked the new library. It is the only library I have ever known that has a coffee shop on the main floor, lounges featuring chessboards, fireplaces, and stunning city views on every level, a newsstand inside its five-story glass atrium, and a garden on its roof. So I said yes, paid for my jolt of java, and followed her down the sidewalk and up the elevators to the roof of the new building. We settled on a bench that had a nice view and I started into the ritual of small talk, which was about all I was good for at that moment. “What brings you out on a workday?”
    Tanya was just placing the cookie between her lips for rapturous nibble. Efficient in her sensuousness, she waited until she had chewed and swallowed
before answering me. “I took the morning off to run some errands. And then I decided to play hooky from doing the errands.”
    “Well, it’s nice to see you. Been ages.”
    “Hey, you too. Where’s your papoose?”
    “Faye’s up in Wyoming for a few days,” I said, my tone of voice more glum than I had intended.
    Tanya’s eyebrows jumped ever so