Cover of Snow by Jenny Milchman Read Free Book Online

to know as much as I can about how Brendan was doing. This medication is something he didn’t tell me about. And I can’t stand that right now.”
    Vern’s face became even softer. “Okay. All right. But I’m gonna have to insist you take care of that taillight first.”
    A sudden swirl of snow momentarily blocked out sight of the Chief.
    I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. “My taillight? Now?”
    Vern Weathers was smiling, jowls lifted so they wrinkled his eyes. “Now, honey, there’s already been one tragedy for the Hamilton family this year, and it’s just a baby year yet. No more, all right?”
    I nodded in resignation.
    â€œIn this weather it’s not safe for you to be driving around one backlight down. You go on over to Al’s, and he’ll fix you up. When he’s done you can play yourself a little detective. Heck, if you do a good job, maybe we’ll hire you on.” The Chief went silent for a second. “Don’t mean to make jokes. The wife would have my head.”
    I had trouble picturing tiny Mrs. Weathers even reaching the top of her tree trunk husband, let alone doing anything to his head. Vern must’ve seen it on my face, for he chuckled in agreement.
    I raised my window, pushed down to trigger the blinker, and reentered the Northway, scattering snow in front of my tires. Behind me, Vern pulled out too, red lights twirling in an onslaught of flakes.

Chapter Nine
    I made my way through empty streets, still but for the snow, toward the outskirts of town. They had turned slushy with salt and as I glanced in my rearview mirror, half expecting to see the police chief still behind me, I saw caramel-colored splashes instead.
    Stopping at a red light, I peered through the foggy windshield.
    A bait and ammo store sat directly in front of me, and just beyond it, my destination. Al’s Gas & Service occupied one corner of Water Street, across from a new Mobil. I favored the latter, where I could grab a cup of coffee after pumping my gas, but Al Meter serviced the cop cars and so I obeyed Vern’s order. For all I knew, he might check.
    Things like the two stations could make Wedeskyull a tough place sometimes. The town—whose ominous-sounding name, spoken as if someone were killing weeds, stood in stark contrast to its physical beauty—was not an entirely peaceful place. It was divided between newcomers and natives, the Mobil half and the Al’s half. As the émigré bride of a man whose family had lived here for a hundred years, and elsewhere in the Adirondacks for a hundred before that, I didn’t fit into either group.
    But I loved Wedeskyull—and not only because of Brendan. There was a wealth of antique houses for me to pore over, all in differing degrees of dilapidation. Even if I’d never made many friends of my own here—
any,
came Teggie’s voice, any
friends of your own
—the architecture made a surprisingly rich substitute.
    It was Brendan who’d pointed out how many city expats poured fortunes into those places, and soon after that observation was made, my business was born.
You can do it, Chestnut
.
Ask for twenty percent commission
.
    Memories. Reams of memories assailed me.
    Like
Chestnut.
    I’d once asked Brendan why he called me that, and he answered dreamily, “Because you’re my Christmas treat.” But his face held something more.
    It was true that we met during finals back in school in the city, just before winter break. Brendan had bought me a bag of nuts off a cart to celebrate the end of exams.
    â€œOne step closer to lawyerdom,” he announced.
    Brendan had settled on the profession because he wanted to deal with all the people who played games with the law. At least that’s what he’d told me when we started dating, and he’d been filling out applications, and taking the LSATs. But when the time came to choose between law schools,