Shakespeares Christmas Page 0,2

got some work to finish up here within the next week, then I have a meeting about a job I might take on. So I may not get down there until Christmas."

"Actually, I have a lot to do right now, too. Everyone's trying to get extra cleaning done, giving Christmas parties, putting up trees in their offices."

It was just over three weeks until Christmas. That was a long time to spend without seeing Jack. Even though I knew I was going to be working hard the entire period, since I counted going home to the wedding as a sort of subcategory of work, I felt a sharp pang at the thought of three weeks' separation.

"That seems like a long time," he said suddenly.

"Yes."

Having admitted that, both of us backed hastily away.

"Well, I'll be calling you," Jack said briskly.

He'd be sprawled on the couch in his apartment in Little Rock as he talked on the phone. His thick dark hair would be pulled back in a ponytail. The cold weather would have made the scar on his face stand out, thin and white, a little puckered where it began at the hairline close to his right eye. If Jack had met with a client today, he'd be wearing nice slacks and a sports coat, wing tips, a dress shirt, and a tie. If he'd been working surveillance, or doing the computer work that increasingly formed the bulk of a private detective's routine, he'd be in jeans and a sweater.

"What are you wearing?" I asked suddenly.

"I thought I was supposed to ask you that." He sounded amused, again.

I kept a stubborn silence.

"Oh, OK. I'm wearing - you want me to start with the bottom or the top? - Reeboks, white athletic socks, navy blue sweatpants, Jockeys, and a Marvel Gym T-shirt. I just got home from working out."

"Dress up at Christmas."

"A suit?"

"Oh, maybe you don't have to go that far. But nice."

"OK," he said cautiously.

Christmas this year was on a Friday. I had only two Saturday clients at the moment, and neither of them would be open the day after Christmas. Maybe I could get them done on Christmas morning, before Jack got here.

"Bring clothes for two days," I said. "We can have Friday afternoon and Saturday and Sunday." I suddenly realized I'd assumed, and I took a sharp breath. "That is, if you can stay that long. If you want to."

"Oh, yes," he said. His voice sounded rougher, darker. "Yes, I want to."

"Are you smiling?"

"You could say so," he affirmed. "All over."

I smiled a little myself. "OK, see you then."

"Where'd you say your family was? Bartley, right? I was talking to a friend of mine about that a couple of nights ago."

It felt strange to know he had talked about me. "Yes, Bartley. It's in the Delta, a little north and a lot east of Little Rock."

"Hmmm. It'll be OK, seeing your family. You can tell me all about it."

"OK." That did sound good, realizing I could talk about it afterward, that I wouldn't come home to silence and emptiness, drag through days and days rehashing the tensions in my family.

Instead of saying this to Jack, I said, "Good-bye."

I heard him respond as I laid the receiver down. We always had a hard time ending conversations.

There are two towns in Arkansas named Montrose. The next day, I drove to the one that had shopping.

Since I no longer worked for the Winthrops, I had more free time on my hands than I could afford: That was the only reason I'd listened when Carlton had proposed the Christmas parade appearance. Until more people opted for my services, I had just about two free mornings a week. This free morning, I'd gone to Body Time for my workout (it was triceps day), come home to shower and dress, and stopped by the office of the little Shakespeare paper to place an ad in the classifieds ("Give your wife her secret Christmas wish - a maid").

And now here I was, involuntarily listening - once again - to taped Christmas carols, surrounded by people who were shopping with some air of excitement and anticipation. I was about to do what I like least to do: spend money when I had little coming in, and spend that money on clothing.

In what I thought of as my previous life, the life I'd led in Memphis as scheduler for a large cleaning service, I'd been quite a dresser. In that life, I'd had long brown hair, and lifting two