The chicken wings were good. Not too burnt. Sharla brought them on a tray and we ate them while we sat in the water.
After that, the hot tub was too hot. Even the room was too hot.
“Let’s go over to the town hall,” Sharla said. “It’s just across the road.”
I had leaned out of the tub to check on Daisy. Still sleeping. Sometimes I want to wake her up and play with her. But that is never a good idea.
“What’s over there?”
“Community dance,” Sharla said. “Ron doesn’t go to dances. If you party with people, it’s harder to arrest them when they’re driving home drunk. But we could go, by ourselves.”
“I can’t go in sweats. I ’d have to get my suitcase from the car,” I said.
Sharla said she had stuff that might fit me.
The master bedroom had a huge bathroom off it, with twin sinks and a Jacuzzi tub. Sharla and Ron must spend a lot of time in water, I thought. A lot of mirrors, too. Sharla didn’t have to avoid them, and Ron didn’t seem like the vain type. He was okay-looking. But you noticed how nice he was before anything else. Like a big nose or a mole, his kindness stuck out.
Sharla pulled rodeo-style shirts and jeans out of the closet, checking which looked best in the mirror. She shoved a pair of jeans at me, new, with the tags still on.
“Got these at Winners in Edmonton last fall, they’re way too big for me. Before they changed their take-back rules.”
“I’ll pay you,” I said. Then I remembered that I had no money.
“Don’t bother,” she said. “They were, like, ten bucks. Good if somebody can use them.”
I was very relieved. And the jeans even fit. The zipper did up without too much straining. The shirt had pearl buttons that were actually snaps. As soon as I did them up, they snapped open again.
“I’ll wear the shirt open,” I said, giving up. I pulled my spare t-shirt out of Daisy’s diaper bag.
Sharla was busy putting on mascara. Her mouth pulled down to stretch her eyes open. She said mm-hmm, and did the other eye. A big makeup case sat on the bathroom counter. Eighteen eye shadow colours, about forty lipsticks and blushes.
She made me sit on a stool while she made up my face.
“You’re good at this.” I tried to speak without blinking.
“I thought about being a makeup artist,” she said. “Like for the movies? But my dad wanted me to be a dental hygienist.”
She did have really white teeth.
“Are you working now?”
“Part time, two days a week. I don’t like the dentist, though.”
This was pretty weird, to be having an ordinary conversation with Sharla.
She turned me so I could see myself in the mirror. She’d done a good job.
Then she brushed my hair out and pinned up a couple of twists, so most of it was piled on my head. With the curling iron, she caught some smaller strands. In no time, I had little ringlets falling on each side.
It was the best I’d looked in years. All sparkling. And I liked those jeans, they made me feel trim.
“Good,” she said, turning me from side to side. She sprayed my hair like crazy.
Then she turned aside and went to the bedroom, stripping of her towel and bodysuit on the way. She picked a new bra and socks from a drawer. I felt pretty awkward being there while she wandered around naked. She paid no attention to me at all. I couldn’t help seeing that the rug did not match the curtains, if you know what I mean. So the blonde hair was a dye job. But she had smooth, unstretched skin and nice little unsaggy breasts.
I turned to the baby so I didn’t have to watch Sharla.
Daisy was awake, beginning to move her head from side to side. She reminded me of her dad, waking up.
I undid the straps and took Daisy out of the car seat, holding her tight. We walked in front of the long mirror.
I’d been in maternity jeans for more than a year. The ones I had on now were my first pair without a wide band of elastic across the belly. Zipped up snug over my pale leftover baby flab, the jeans looked good.
“Okay!” Sharla said, pulling a rodeo belt tight around her tiny waist. The shiny buckle was bull-rider size, as big as a pie plate. “Let’s get over there, get this party started!”
I changed Daisy’s diaper and put her in a clean sleeper and back into her snowsuit. She didn’t like that too much. She waved her arms around and said Nahh! in little explosions. One of her kicks got me straight in the jaw. But I was the boss of her, and we were going to the dance.
Sharla found a blanket to fold around Daisy. We wrapped scarves up to our eyes, but it was still cold. Ice under the snow made me slide a couple of times, but we got there.
Trucks filled the parking lot by the hall, and more were parked along the road. A yellow light bulb lit up the front door, where people were going in and out.
Inside, the hall was hot, with more of those yellow lights glowing. People stood in bunches around the bar and the food table. Fewer out on the dance floor, but enough. It was noisy.
“Hey, there’s Jade,” Sharla said. “Jade!” she called “Jade!”
A woman waved and came toward us. A fringed jacket hung easy over her wide shoulders. As she walked the fringes swayed a little.
Sharla spoke in my ear. “Jade—she’s Tim Lamont’s wife. He’s the Mountie in charge here. The one who went to Vegas without her.”
Jade was taller than me, with long dark hair. She was really good looking. She looked like the woman jeans were invented for. I felt young and shy and stupid.
But she smiled at me with an open face when Sharla said who I was. About the snowstorm and why we were there. Jade gave me a hug, for nothing.
Then I forgot how beautiful she was and just liked her.
Good thing I did. Because Sharla, again, was not too friendly.
“Why don’t you like her?” I asked Sharla when Jade went back to her table to get her drink.
Sharla shrugged. “I never said I didn’t. She’s bossy, I guess.”
Sometimes people see their own faults in other people.
I set Daisy’s car seat on the table so she could see the dancers. I rocked the seat gently to the music.
An older guy stopped beside Sharla. He bent his head to speak, and she went off with him. They joined the two-stepping couples on the dance floor. I could never get the hang of the two-step. I always turned it into a waltz by mistake.
Up on a small platform behind the dancers, the little band was not bad. Five or six old guys. They played country tunes, some newer. But not very new. “Achy Breaky Heart,” for instance, which was old when I was a kid.
Jade came back and sat on the edge of the table by Daisy, putting her fringed jacket on the chair. At the neck of her soft denim shirt, her collarbone showed like a smooth stick.
“What a cute baby,” she said. “How old?”
We talked about Daisy and how great she was. Jade showed me her two boys, fifteen and seventeen. They were standing with their friends by the far wall.
She didn’t look old enough to have a seventeen-year-old kid. Or even a seven-year-old.
Jade said the best part of kids growing up was not needing sitters any more. We talked about that for a while. How hard it was to find someone you could leave your kids with and not be nervous. She was easy to talk to.
Tim, her husband, was having a good time in Vegas, she said. “He’s been having a hard year. Needed to get away from all this. Be by himself.”
Talking about her sons, her face had lit up. When she talked about her husband, the light went out. She looked sad.
I wondered what was going on with Grady and Ron and the buffalo.
Then I realized why I was thinking about them. Because of the lights. Through the window, I could see the rolling red and blue lights of the police cruiser.
I leaned to peer out. They had stopped a truck on the road close to the hall. Ron was standing by the truck window, listening to the driver.
I could see Grady inside the cruiser. Talking into the radio, his face thoughtful in the dashboard light. Seeing him at work always made me like him again. That he would want to do this stupid job.