Sunshine. Pat Warren

and was going home tomorrow. The least she could do was put on a brave front for one more day. “I’ll be fine.” She glanced toward the fireplace. “Why don’t we build a fire?” She was always cold lately, even wearing her gray sweatpants and a heavy sweater.

      “We used up the last of the wood last night, remember? Want me to call around and see if I can get some delivered?”

      Kurt had always ordered the wood and had it stacked. Janice didn’t even know where he’d gotten it, or who to call. Annoyed, she shook her head. “Let’s forget it. I think I’ll make a cup of tea. Want some?”

      “No, but I’ll make it for you,” Stefanie suggested.

      “That’s all right. I need something to do.” In the kitchen, Janice turned on the small radio and put water on to boil. Opening the refrigerator, she looked inside, wondering what to make for dinner. Nothing appealed to her, but she’d have to produce something for Stefie’s sake.

      She shuffled covered dishes around, leftover food her friends and neighbors had brought over. Taking the lid from a familiar blue dish, she found tuna salad that had gone bad. Kurt had loved tuna and had undoubtedly made it some time ago, then promptly forgotten it was there.

      Angrily, she scraped the moldy salad down the drain and turned on the disposal. Why hadn’t he eaten the damn tuna? Why had he let it spoil when he knew food was expensive? And why had he left her here to cope with all this alone?

      A rush of guilt flooded her and she felt the heat creep into her face. She had no right to be angry with Kurt. He hadn’t meant to leave her. Yet he had, and she would have to stop feeling sorry for herself and get on with her life. Dear God, where was she going to find the strength to go on?

      The music from the radio grew suddenly louder, taunting her. Janice’s head shot up as she heard Johnny Mathis singing, “It’s wonderful, wonderful. Oh, so wonderful, my love.” She and Kurt had danced to that back in college. Only Kurt was gone now and nothing was wonderful. Nothing.

      Her back against the kitchen cupboards, Janice slid to the floor, hoping her daughter wouldn’t wander out and see her like this. Resting her cheek on her bent knees, she closed her eyes and let the tears fall.

      * * *

      KELSEY BOARDINGHOUSE was a warm and wonderful place, a place Janice had always felt welcome. Losing her mother at an early age, she’d gravitated to Anna Kelsey when Anna had first arrived in Tyler. Though Anna was only about ten years older than Janice, she seemed to personify everything a mother should be. As Janice entered Anna’s big kitchen the next evening, she hugged her friend a bit longer than usual, absorbing Anna’s warmth like a favorite quilt wrapping around her.

      “I’m so glad you stopped in,” Anna said, stepping back to look her friend over. The pale skin beneath Janice’s eyes was dark with fatigue. Not sleeping well yet, Anna guessed. And she was wearing those shapeless, unflattering sweats she dragged out every winter. “Take your coat off.”

      “I came to coax you out for a walk,” Janice said. “Maybe we could stroll over to Marge’s Diner and have a piece of her sinfully rich pie.” She wasn’t really hungry, but she thought Anna might not want to just go marching around on a snowy evening after working all day.

      “Good idea,” Anna said. “Johnny has a meeting tonight and I’ve just finished the dishes. Let me grab my jacket.”

      “I don’t know how you do it,” Janice said a few minutes later as they headed down the street, their booted feet crunching in the hard-packed snow. “A full-time job and running the boardinghouse with Johnny and always being there for your children. I wish I had your energy.”

      Anna linked her arm with her friend’s. “I don’t feel very energetic tonight. I really should do a thorough cleaning in my two vacant rooms upstairs, but I don’t feel up to it.”

      “Did you lose a couple of boarders?”

      “I didn’t think of them as boarders really. You know my nephew, Brick Bauer, don’t you?”

      “Sure, I know Brick. Didn’t he get married recently?” She’d been so self-involved lately that she hadn’t kept up with what had been happening around town, Janice realized with dismay.

      Anna chuckled. “He sure did. Karen’s the police captain, which technically makes her his boss, since Brick’s a lieutenant. They each had a room with us. Their wedding was a disaster, but at least they’re finally together.” Anna looked up as they turned off Gunther Street and onto Main Street. Snow was gathered on the limbs of a bare maple tree under the street lamp, silhouetted against a dark sky. “Isn’t that pretty?”

      Janice inhaled deeply. “Yes, it is.” She was so glad she’d come out tonight. She’d been cooped up entirely too long inside that house filled with memories. As they walked across the town square toward the diner, she gazed around at the familiar scene—the library and across the way, the post office. On the next corner was the Hair Affair where she should be making an appointment for a cut. “I wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve walked across this square—with the kids when they were young and with Kurt.”

      She was getting melancholy again, Anna decided, and rushed to divert her. “Did you get Stefanie off to Boston?”

      “Yes, this morning. I’m surprised she stayed as long as she did. That girl is so in love. Every night she’d call her fiancé and they’d talk for a good hour. Then Ross would call her during the day.” Janice sighed. “Do you remember being like that, Anna? So crazy in love that all you thought about was Johnny, all you talked about was Johnny?”

      Anna shrugged. “We were both eighteen, Janice. A couple of kids, really. But yes, I remember when he was my every thought and I probably bored my friends to death talking about him. In that first rush of passion, I think we all feel as if we invented love. Didn’t you?”

      “I suppose I did, but it all seems so long ago. Kurt’s been gone such a short time and already sometimes I have trouble remembering how he looked, how he sounded.”

      Anna squeezed her friend’s arm. “Give it time, Janice.” She stomped the snow from her boots and opened the door of Marge’s Diner, smiling as a rush of warm air fogged her glasses. “I love the way it smells in here,” she commented as she waved to Marge, who was behind the counter as usual.

      The restaurant wasn’t crowded on a frosty Tuesday evening. A couple of teenagers were sipping hot chocolate across the way, and one of Joe Santori’s carpenters was finishing his dinner at the counter. Anna walked to a booth and slid onto the red vinyl seat as Janice seated herself opposite her. She shrugged out of her jacket and concentrated on polishing her glasses.

      “Good to see you, Janice,” Marge said as she handed them each a menu. “You, too, Anna.”

      “Don’t you ever take time off, Marge?” Anna asked as she put her glasses back on. “Seems like you’re here night and day.”

      “Married to my work,” Marge commented wryly.

      “I don’t have to look at your menu, Marge,” Janice said with a smile. “I want a piece of your wonderful apple pie and a cup of coffee.” It must have been the walk, for she was suddenly hungry.

      “Make mine the same,” Anna said, handing back the menus.

      “Coming right up.”

      Janice watched Marge walk away, then leaned toward Anna, keeping her voice low. “I’ve always felt a little sorry for Marge, deserted by her husband so many years ago, then her daughter leaving. Always alone and having to work. And now I find myself in basically the same boat.”

      Anna frowned. “Are you in trouble financially?” She’d always thought that Kurt made plenty of money and assumed that he’d have lots of insurance.

      Janice shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’ve got to go to Kurt’s office and go over the books, check things out.” She brushed back a lock of hair. “I hate to think of all