Frozen Stiff Drink

Chapter 1-2

As I drove past the Danby Landing cottage, my brother and his boyfriend zoomed down the path on his motorcycle. Of all the idiotic things to do given the threat of a snowstorm, Gabriel would be the one knucklehead to risk his and Sam's lives on a bike. I hastily waved through the window, knowing we'd scheduled dinner for Sunday, unless the looming winter disaster rendered that impossible. I'd decided to introduce my girlfriend to my family in a non-official capacity by testing the waters with Gabriel. His sarcasm and humor were on par with mine. It would be easy to relax in a group setting while Sam was on a break from graduate school. They'd been dating for six months even though the long-distance had occasionally caused a few issues c*m calamities. Gabriel could be quite an obnoxious handful.

Ulan greeted me at the door, his hands twitching like he'd consumed a dozen cups of radioactive java. Despite the frozen tundra we lived in, he'd shaved off all his hair to support a friend with cancer. His bald, oval-shaped head and chocolate-brown puppy dog eyes encouraged all the girls to fawn over him at school. “Did you get my deodorant? Grandpa is picking us up in an hour. I haven't packed. What do I need for Orlando in February? I should get to the gym. Maybe some speedos to impress the bikini-clad chiquitas, right?” He and Emma planned to sleep at my parents' monstrous log cabin home, affectionately known as the Royal Chic-Shack, to shorten the airport trip in the morning.

“No speedos. Despite Gabriel's obsession, men are never supposed to wear them.” I tossed two bags at him and dropped the rest on the floor. Our puppy, who rapidly approached one-year-old, fearlessly stuck his nose in the nearest bag, filched a pair of sandals, and scampered down the hall. I had no energy to run after Baxter. “Emma! Get your flip-flops back before your dog eats them, please!” Baxter had a habit of consuming fabric and rubber, which led to an unbelievably awkward and odorous situation upon exiting his system.

With nodding heads, Emma and Nana D strolled into the room and simultaneously teased, “Rough day?” Not only did they speak similarly, but Nana D had convinced Emma to swap her trademark pigtails for a single braid like she wore. Reducing their time together was paramount before I suffered from two lovable but relentless bosses jumping on my back. I'd say three if my real boss, Dr. Myriam Castle, were lovable, but that'd be more shocking than discovering the world was round and not flat.

We sorted through the bags, packed for their trip, and wolfed down scrumptious leftovers for dinner. Nana D had defrosted a droolworthy lasagna the previous night. The farmhouse smelled like an Italian restaurant during the Feast of San Gennaro. Creamy parmesan and pecorino cheeses. Perfect al dente pasta. Mouthwatering meat sauce. Bread that could make you cry tears of joy.

After a full day at the mayor's office, Nana D wasn't in the mood to prepare a complicated meal, as she reminded me earlier when I beseeched her to pick up the kids. She'd let her chauffeur—a perk as the head of our county—take off for the weekend. Given the ominous Nor'easter, driving on her own thrilled her as much as enduring a root canal in a dirty, underground clinic.

“Come on, Emma, let's take Baxter for his final walk tonight,” Ulan ordered as he carried their empty plates into the kitchen. “Your dad looks like he's run out of patience again. Veins are pulsing.”

“He's just cranky.” Emma c****d her head sideways, narrowing her hazel-green eyes at me. They'd been darker when she was younger but changed colors to match her personality—spunky, strong-willed, and generous. “Ulan says you're sad we're leaving. Right, Daddy?” She hopped on my lap and kissed my nose. “I will miss you this much,” she squealed, spreading her arms broadly.

Before Emma tottered off the chair from stretching beyond her limit, I lowered her to the plush carpet. “Exactly. You better behave for Grandma and Grandpa in Disney World. If I get any negative reports on either of you, severe punishments will rain from the sky. I'm talking no food for a week. You'll wear each other's clothes to school. Baxter gets all your Christmas presents until you turn eighteen.”

“You wouldn't dare. Ulan!” Emma puffed and raced down the hallway. “He's gone loco again!”

“Ugh! I love those two so much,” I muttered to Nana D, shuffling in my seat. “Ulan's only been with us for six months, but he's become a son to me in so many ways.”

Nana D tapped her fingers on Grandpop's custom wood table, deep in thought before replying. “I haven't heard from Zachary. He's supposed to check in before Ulan leaves for Disney World.”

“You know Uncle Zach. He loves his son, but his career is his passion. Just like Hampton.”

“Your brother is a different story. Have you figured out what's going on with that embezzlement scheme at ReedWell Corporation?” Nana D held up a hand when I started to clear the table. “Sit a bit. Let's talk. I'm worried about my boys, Kellan.”

My older brother Hampton had moved back to Pennsylvania the previous fall once his oil tycoon father-in-law, Orin Reed, drilled a new well near the Betscha mines. Hampton was married to Orin's daughter, Natasha, and they had four children under the age of seven. Hampton was an abrasive, ruthless, and judgmental attorney, but Orin Reed admired those qualities in a man. He'd groomed Hampton to take over the family business, ReedWell, since his daughter wasn't interested and his son, Isaac, wasn't qualified for a multitude of reasons.

“Hampton was evasive about the financial issues. I listened to his concerns, but there's nothing we can do.” I reminded Nana D what we'd learned to date. ReedWell's finance team had processed five obscure transactions from the corporate accounts, cutting checks to an unknown company for vague projects. No master services agreements or contracts with the business were on file. Clueless about what ReedWell had received for the services, Hampton claimed to have foolishly signed off on the invoices during a crisis. The money evaporated into a giant black hole. “The last time Hampton talked to Orin, he'd arrived in Pennsylvania and demanded ReedWell hire an outside accountant to sort it out.”

“Pish! I spoke with Hampton today. Your brother met with the calculating yet oddly debonair Orin Reed, and it didn't go hunky-dory. His father-in-law accused him of grand larceny and threatened to remove him from ReedWell if he couldn't retrieve the money by tomorrow.” Nana D tut-tutted and waggled her index finger as if she summoned a scheme of her own.

I'd often seen that look on her face, and it always led to an epic disaster. “Stay out of it, Nana D. The Hampster is a big boy, and he came to me for help twice. If he needs me to conduct further research, he has to grant me access to their systems. Let's talk about the impending storm instead.”

Nana D stuck out her tongue, then carried her plate into the kitchen. “I'll stay out of it if you promise to ignore any future murder investigations. How's that for a deal, brilliant one?”

“There won't be any more murders. Braxton's been punished enough.” I guffawed when Nana D bristled in disagreement. “Does this storm mean Madam Zenya's premonition might come true?”

“The one where she said, and I am quoting her words according to what you told me… a life-altering, disastrous blizzard will plague Wharton County this winter. It'll be unbelievably horrendous. There will be more death, and the past and the future will collide for the Danby and Ayrwick families. It will be tragic, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.” She flicked her hand at me and lollygagged toward the counter to rinse the dishes. “What a crock of—”

“Watch it, Nana D. Emma is hovering in the hallway.” I followed my hypocritical grandmother into the kitchen and rested my head on her shoulder, which wasn't easy given she stood five-foot-tall and hunched over the sink like a leprechaun. “Yep, that's the one. Worried for our family?”

She turned off the faucet and dried her hands. “I'm not concerned, but I've been meaning to—”

My phone blasted the theme from Cops, April's signature ringtone. “Hold that thought, please.” I stepped into the living room and answered the call, certain Nana D whispered in the distance.

“Kellan and April sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes….” Nana D activated the oven's overhead vent, drowning out the rest of her hilarious song and dance routine.

“Hello… been thinking about you. Still on for a drink when I get home?” We hadn't officially had a sleepover yet, mostly since her much-younger brother was living with her until he left for college that summer, and I had two impressionable kids at my place. Also, we didn't want to leap too hastily into unchartered territory and implode like a submarine tank.

“You know I wish I could be there.” Her uncannily hesitant tone didn't bode well for my future.

“What happened?” I attempted to curb my whine, but it flooded out the gates like a tidal wave. The day would end just as it had started—at the bottom of a barrel without a drop left to drink.

“Fox showed up. It's taken three months to track him down. I can't ignore this chance to force him to sign the divorce agreement. Let me deal with this first, and then we can move forward. You know I… I lo—” April stopped speaking to me on the phone but continued talking in the background.

“What's going on?” I pulled the device away from my ear in confusion. “Did you say—”

“Kellan, I gotta go. Fox jumped ship already. I'll call you soon.”

I stared in disbelief at the checkerboard pattern on Nana D's kitchen wall. Suddenly disoriented, my throat began to constrict. Was April about to say she loved me? Then it hit me. Her aloof husband was here. Why was I not running out the door? I needed to meet him myself. Oh right, I had to get Emma and Ulan ready for their Disney World trip. Everyone was against me today.

Nana D snapped her fingers an inch from my nose. A trance had trapped me in a state of denial or stupidity—often the same in my case. “Come here, brilliant one. It looks like you could use a hug.”

* * *

On Saturday morning, Emma, Ulan, and my parents were en route to Orlando. The weatherman had been correct. I awoke to a temperature somewhere between the kids' ages. If I believed in superstitions, I would've recognized it as a sign to move back to LA. It took ten minutes to defrost the SUV's windows and sober up from the blazing icicle tears before I could meet my buddy Connor at the gym.

After a grueling bicep and chest workout, we hit the showers. As usual, I finished before him and waited in the lobby of Grey Sports Complex, the Braxton fitness center built from donations charitably provided by Hiram Grey and his family. If it wasn't the only place with adequate equipment in town, I would've exercised elsewhere. As I dilly-dallied near the deafening and spacious juice bar, our friends Maggie Roarke and Jane O'Malley tumbled into the meticulous and bright lobby.

Maggie, the adorable, stereotypical girl-next-door, always watched my back. Her porcelain skin shined brighter than the snowy sky. Jane, a few years younger, was shier than a wallflower but had gone through a harrowing ordeal. While Jane had ended a catastrophic relationship with the much older Judge Hiram Grey, Maggie and Connor were enthusiastically dating for a solid chunk of the last year.

“Got your snowshoes on?” Maggie asked, elbowing Jane and stripping off a pair of heavily insulated gloves. “I couldn't feel my face in that frosty mess outside. But you don't skip Jazzercise class!”

“It's the kind of day where someone could freeze to death,” Jane quipped, then gasped. “Never mind. I didn't mean to be so dismal. The danger of hazardous weather scares me.” As she removed her coat, a diamond bracelet fell to the floor. Jane flinched and dove in agitated pursuit of her possession.

“I'll get it.” While retrieving the obviously posh, glimmering jewelry, I wondered how Jane could afford something so luxurious. She lived on a modest teacher's salary and struggled to pay her rent.

“Give that back.” Jane tore it from my hands, a flash of anger on her cheeks. “Sorry, it's… a valuable family heirloom. I'd hate to lose it. Anyway, what will you do while Emma and Ulan are away?”

“Sure, no problem.” Ignoring Jane's odd reaction and excessive outburst, I crossed my arms and rested on a nearby bench. “April will ensure I'm occupied. I doubt the storm will be that harsh.”

Maggie giggled as she scanned her card at the empty front desk. “It's been a while since you've suffered through one of Wharton County's whiteouts. Don't underestimate how tricky they can be. The WCLN weatherman updated his warning from eight to nine snowmen.”

Two things were common knowledge in these parts. One, we measured snowstorms by tallying the scale of snowmen. A single snowman indicated a smattering of flurries. Ten snowmen meant a woolly mammoth ventured down the Wharton Mountains to seek warmth from the townspeople. The other thing we knew for certain, WCLN's weatherman was as senile as a naked dementia patient riding an upside-down Ferris wheel in the dark. He'd also never once read the weather charts properly.

After both ladies dashed to the locker room, Connor paraded around the lobby with a forlorn pout and scowled every time he glanced out the window. “I'm so cold I'm gonna need to buy a second pair of thermal long johns. Just listened to the WCLN report. Nine snowmen! Did you hear?”

I dipped my head in shame. “You sure it ain't nine and a half? I felt the temperature drop just now as you pranced in here, princess.” For added effect, I grasped my noggin and shivered like Nana D when she swallowed an ice cream sundae too quickly. “Oh wait, now it's ten snowmen. There's Wally Woolly riding the ski lift!”

“Dude, your sarcasm truly knows no bounds.” Connor slapped my back like I was an irritating fly, then pushed me out the door. “Any message you want me to deliver to your extra special girlfriend?” As a detective in the Wharton County Sheriff's Office who reported to April, he teased me all the time.

“No, she's on Santa's naughty list. We were supposed to chat last night, but I never got a call. I'm debating whether to contact her or wait it out.” I was a tad peeved at her for failing to update me post that weird interruption when her husband showed up, but I also trusted her. There was a reason she had communicated nothing else in the last eleven hours, eight minutes, and three seconds.

Upon entering the parking lot, Connor waggled his eyebrows and remotely unlocked his truck. “She left in a hurry yesterday, chasing some guy I've never seen before. I'm sure she'll call.” He forcefully wiped a snowflake off his nose, scooted to his vehicle, and danced awkwardly on his tippy toes while lifting the door handle. “Yep, the end of the world has definitely arrived. Better jet to work.”

I wobbled my head in disbelief at how a tiny drop of water had caused such an incomprehensible reaction on a grown man the size of a brick house. Several inches taller and wider than me—from working out and eating tons of protein—my South African and Caribbean best friend was not someone you messed with, if you valued your life. “You're a sorry excuse for a man, Detective Connor Hawkins. Afraid of a little snow. Who would've thought—”

Connor slammed his truck door in my face, flipped me two birds, and laughed so raucously I heard him through the window. After he drove away, my phone chirped. As the wind whipped by like a runaway train, I hopped in my frigid SUV, contemplating why no one had bought me an automatic car starter for Christmas. Thinking the bird noise had delivered an apology text from Connor or April had begged me to come over for some much-desired canoodling, I promptly scanned the device.

I was dead wrong. It was from someone else. Someone I preferred not to hear from again this soon. Especially not with such a horrifying message. A pest who had a habit of crashing my party with the universe's darkest pile of pity and gloomiest end-of-the-world threats. Balderdash!

Madam Z: I've had another premonition, and it's far more sinister than what I said last time. I'm so sorry about your grandmother. We need to have an urgent conversation about her calamitous future.