Baker's Dozen Read online

  The bird landed on the floor and shattered into ten thousand pieces.

  Jon apologized more than once. Sarah did as well. Jon tried to help, but ended up slicing one of his fingers on a sharp shard. Sarah shooed him from the kitchen and cleaned up, mourning the little bird, sad that it had gone, still unsure of its story. Then Jon came back and distracted her from her sorrow for the rest of the night.

  In the morning, Sarah only remembered the bird when she found her watch sitting exactly where she’d placed it. It was a few more days before she remembered leaving her grandmother’s ring on the kitchen shelf.

  Only it was gone. Sarah laughed at herself, wondering if the bird had taken one last bright, shiny thing with it. She shook her head over her own ridiculousness.

  Yet, Sarah never found the ring.

  * * *

  “Who’s that?” Sarah asked as Jon took her hand, leading her away from the now-closed apartment door.

  “My new neighbor, Cheryl.”

  Sarah hadn’t gotten a good look at her, just an impression of long black hair and sharp, bird-like eyes. “What did she want?” Sarah asked, looking back over her shoulder at the neighbor’s apartment, wondering if she’d come out again. Sarah had been thrown when Jon hadn’t answered his own door, but had called to her from down the hall after she’d knocked.

  “Asked about the utilities, how much I was paying.” Jon shrugged.

  Sarah knew better than to be jealous. Jon was a decent guy. He wouldn’t fool around on her. Still, there had been something, maybe in the way he’d leaned into Cheryl’s doorway, or was it the way he’d smiled? “Want to come back here after dinner?” Sarah asked, breathing into Jon’s ear. She’d originally planned on going straight home.

  He grinned back. “For dessert? Always.”

  * * *

  Sarah didn’t see Cheryl again until Jon invited Sarah to the building’s holiday party. Sarah had heard about Cheryl, though—Jon had mentioned her more than once, coming over for advice or help. Sarah knew it was all innocent. It didn’t make her feel any better, though.

  The downstairs common room of Jon’s apartment building had been decorated with glittering white and blue snowflakes, inflatable reindeer, and hundreds of tree lights. It was bright enough to see without turning on the overhead florescent lamps. Sarah held up her hands and laughed at the mottled colors shining against her white skin. Jon had been transformed as well, dark eyes sunk deep into his face, ginger hair reflecting the red and yellow, his smile looking overly large.

  Sarah didn’t think she’d recognize any of Jon’s neighbors, but she knew Cheryl on sight: tall, thin, in a white sheath with black hair hanging to her waist. Jon called her over and Sarah made herself smile. At least Jon introduced Sarah as his girlfriend.

  “He’s been so helpful,” Cheryl proclaimed, squeezing Jon’s arm. “My knight in shining armor.”

  Sarah blinked, holding herself still in surprise. She’d called Jon that, but only in the privacy of her house while talking to Mr. J.

  “Just being neighborly,” Jon said, looking at his feet for a moment. “Punch?” he asked, looking from one woman to the other. Then he beat a hasty retreat.

  “He is lovely,” Sarah admitted. She didn’t know if he was The One, but thinking of him left her with a warm feeling, not quite like her house, but in a similar vein.

  “Too bad you can’t keep him.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’ll misplace him. Like you did with your watch, your rings, your earrings.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  Cheryl brought her right hand up. There, on her forefinger, sat Sarah’s grandmother’s platinum ring. “Quite beautiful, don’t you think?”

  “That’s mine,” Sarah hissed.

  “You gave it to me,” Cheryl said, her voice low and mean. “And you’ll give me Jon, too.”

  “Why? Why me? Why not steal another man?” Sarah couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. It was crazy.

  “He’s shiny. And he’s yours.” Cheryl gave Sarah a hard look. “You removed me from the fireplace.”

  “I freed you! Shouldn’t that make you grateful or something?”

  Cheryl shrugged, a very human gesture. “Not how it works.”

  “Then how does it work? How do I stop you?”

  “You can’t.”

  “I will,” Sarah said.

  Jon came back before Cheryl replied. She gracefully took the punch Jon offered, but didn’t stay long. She did kiss Jon on the cheek, wishing him “happy holidays” as she went to talk with other neighbors.

  Sarah couldn’t think of what to do. She spent the rest of the night distracted. She tried to pay attention to Jon’s friends, but their stories of drinking and their fascination with reality TV left her cold. After Jon had his fourth beer, giggling with his friend Bill, she left, frustrated with the smug smile Cheryl shot her as she picked up her coat.

  The Internet wasn’t much help. Cheryl, that damn magpie, seemed immune to salt since she’d been in the kitchen for much of her stay. Maybe if she removed the ring from Cheryl’s finger…but Sarah didn’t see how that would help.

  Jon had been the one to break the porcelain, and Sarah cursed his clumsiness. All the myths she read spoke of the power of blood. Had he been the one to bring the bird to life? Why hadn’t she just placed it on the fireplace mantel? Then Mr. J would have probably broken it. Though he’d already played a part. Sarah stared at him for a long while, but he seemed the same as ever. Besides, cats were natural predators of all birds.

  That night the wind sprang up and Sarah could swear the house groaned more loudly than ever before. The windows shivered in their casings, and nuts from the horse chestnut standing in the neighbor’s yard pinged the roof.

  In the morning, Sarah found the bodies of two small brown birds on the sidewalk underneath her bedroom window. Had they hurled themselves at the glass, trying to get in? She jumped at the cawing of the crows in the trees behind her.

  A thumping sound came from inside the house, and Sarah heard the front porch creak. She felt the strong urge to check on the house. She looked back at the trees.

  Birds peered out at her from every branch.

  Sarah hurried back inside. She felt as though she wasn’t the only one taking a deep breath of relief. Her house wanted her safe as well.

  If only it hadn’t let Sarah free the magpie in the first place.

  * * *

  Sarah didn’t mean to sigh as Jon eased the rental car into the curve of the on-ramp. She certainly never meant for Jon to hear it. They were going camping for the weekend. Up until Thursday the forecast had predicted clouds, but overnight a storm had blown in and they were looking at a weekend of rain. The car they were supposed to rent hadn’t been available, so they’d ended up with a hatchback. It held all their gear, but Sarah wasn’t sure how it would do on the dirt roads ahead.

  However, given the way Sarah’s luck had been going, it was inevitable that Jon did hear her, and saw her white-knuckled fingers on the dashboard.

  “Would you just relax? I am a perfectly safe driver.”

  Sarah bit her lip and managed not to say anything as Jon nearly drifted into the car beside him. It wasn’t until the third such incident that she finally said, “Watch out!”

  Jon swerved and the car behind them blared their horn.

  “See what you made me do?” Jon accused Sarah.

  “You should have just let me drive.”

  “I would like to get there in one piece.”

  Sarah stared at Jon in disbelief. “Are you sure you can get us there in one piece? Because I’m not seeing it.” She pressed her lips together firmly. Why was she having so much trouble staying quiet?

  Jon glared at Sarah before deliberately turning his eyes back to the road. “I am a careful driver.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re a cautious driver who’s also imprecise. A careful driver stays between the damn white lines!” She bit her tong
ue hard. Maybe she could make it too painful for herself to speak.

  “You’re the only one who complains about my driving.”

  “I’m sure Cheryl never complains.” Sarah hadn’t meant the words to slip out, but it was too late.

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  Silence filled the car. Sarah swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. “What do you mean, she doesn’t?” she finally asked, pleased that her voice didn’t crack. “When were you in a car with her?”

  Jon shifted in his seat. “Last week. While you were gone. She needed help with a chair she’d bought on Craigslist. I went with her to pick it up.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I knew you’d act like this! Nothing happened.” But Jon looked out the side window, then the front, and never once back at Sarah.

  “I’ve already lost you to her, haven’t I?” Sarah asked bitterly. She held herself very still when she realized she’d actually said the words out loud.

  “What are you talking about?” Jon asked, perplexed and angry. “Are you accusing me of being unfaithful? I would never, ever do that to you!”

  “There’s more than one type of fidelity.” Sarah felt chills running down her spine. Why was she saying this? Why couldn’t she just keep quiet? “Have you been faithful in your head?”

  Silence filled the car. “Jon?” Sarah asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

  Jon turned off the freeway, following the cloverleaf loops, turning them back toward the city. “I think we shouldn’t go camping this weekend. We need a break.”

  Sarah nodded, her eyes hot with tears. She looked out the window at the gray sky, shaking inside, feeling as though she were the one about to break.

  * * *

  Sarah always watched the sky and the nearby trees carefully whenever she left her house. She was damned if some bird was going to come down and peck off her nose.

  She was also damned if she was going to let her paranoia stop her from going out. A guitar player she liked was celebrating the release of his new CD at the coffee shop three blocks from her house. She spent the evening relaxing, sitting on a hard wooden bench, enjoying the music.

  Jon would have loved it, but they were still on some sort of break. Sarah hoped it was a temporary one, not permanent.

  Still, when the cute guy with the brown curly hair and green eyes sitting next to Sarah started flirting with her, she flirted back. She figured it was harmless, and it made her feel better about herself.

  When Sarah came back from the restroom, the guy was still there, but his head was turned, and he was talking with a dark-haired woman who now sat in Sarah’s seat.

  Sarah froze when she realized it was Cheryl.

  Cheryl wanted Sarah’s shiny things. Not just any shiny thing.

  Sarah was never going to have a life outside of her house if she didn’t do something.

  * * *

  “You know what we need?” Sarah asked Jon on the phone the next week. “A dinner. Just the three of us. So I can get over my stupid whatever with Cheryl and show you that we can all get along.”

  It had taken Sarah nearly a week to talk herself into her plan. She couldn’t prove anything, not to Jon. And if she was wrong, well, she’d pay the damages.

  “We could do that,” Jon said slowly.

  “Saturday? Seven-ish?” Sarah suggested.

  “Sure.”

  They said goodbye after a few more particulars about salads and dessert.

  Then Sarah went to prepare a bird trap.

  * * *

  Dinner was a casual affair. Sarah kept the wine flowing and the conversation general, talking of work, that stupid TV commercial jingle that she couldn’t get out of her head, and how pretty the fall leaves had been that year. Cheryl seemed to be playing along as well, complimenting Sarah on her house, how rugged the hardwood floors looked, how the bright green paint of the kitchen really livened up the room.

  Sarah served them in the dining room. Cheryl had looked at the shelf over the kitchen table more than once, and Sarah wanted her to stay at ease.

  They were finishing the lovely cheesecake Jon had brought when Sarah excused herself for a moment, going to light the already prepared firewood in the fireplace. “Thought we could have after-dinner coffee out there,” she said easily as way of explanation.

  “It’s getting late,” Cheryl said, hesitating.

  “Just one quick nightcap,” Sarah said. “Also, to make sure you have enough time to digest all the wine we’ve had with dinner.”

  At that, Jon nodded. “Coffee would be great. Thanks.”

  Cheryl and Jon moved out to the living room while Sarah went to the kitchen to prepare it. She listened, waiting until she heard Cheryl exclaiming over the state of the fireplace mantel. “Sorry,” Sarah called out. “I was just cleaning it before you came over. Didn’t have a chance to put it all away.”

  Her jewelry, that was. It lay in bright, shiny piles all across the fireplace mantel.

  Where Cheryl would have to go look at it.

  “Can you help carry, Jon?” Sarah called. She passed him as he was heading toward the kitchen. “The milk is in the fridge, and the pitcher is above the sink.” Sarah had carefully placed it there, on the top shelf, where Jon would have to remove two bowls to get to it, keeping him in the kitchen.

  Sarah walked straight out to the living room. Cheryl still stood next to the roaring fire. “You didn’t have these pieces before,” she said accusingly, fingering a remarkable amethyst-and-platinum necklace.

  “No, I generally keep that in the safety deposit box.” Sarah walked over and picked it up. “Lovely, isn’t it? One of my favorite pieces. You’re sure you don’t want to trade for it?” Sarah asked, looking back over her shoulder at the kitchen where Jon still struggled to get the pitcher down.

  Cheryl just laughed. “There’s no bargaining a cold jewel for a warm heart like Jon’s.”

  “I had to try,” Sarah said simply. She grinned at Cheryl.

  “What’s so funny?” Cheryl asked, stepping back and away from Sarah, closer to the mantel.

  “I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it. But I can.” Without raising her voice or changing her smile, Sarah shoved Cheryl into the fire.

  The roar of the flames made Sarah step back. Bright light blinded her, and a swirl of ash made her start coughing.

  When Sarah could finally look back, Cheryl was gone. The fireplace stood stone cold and empty. The house shuddered once, breathed in and then out, as if settling a new shawl over its shoulders.

  Jon came wandering into the living room. He peered at Sarah, then at the extra cup in his hand. “Why do we have three cups?” He shook his head. “Maybe I’ve had more wine than I realized.”

  Sarah bit her lip and nodded. Jon spent the night in the guest room, and they had a cheery breakfast, comfortable but merely friendly. When Jon finally got up to go, he kissed Sarah’s cheek. “Thanks for proving we could still be friends,” he told her.

  “Of course,” Sarah said. “You’ll always be my shining knight.”

  Jon looked puzzled at the reference, then shrugged and went off into the bright fall morning.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, when Sarah started putting back all her jewelry, she found her grandmother’s wedding ring. Three-toed claw marks ran along the outside of it now. She put it into the safety deposit box the following Monday.

  Whenever Sarah had time at night, she burned a hot fire in the fireplace, keeping herself safe and warm.

  Author’s Note

  I’ve recently bought an old house. The firebox needed to be fixed—it was possible to crumble it under my fingers. As I worked on cleaning it out, this story came to me, of a tiny porcelain bird hidden in a hollow brick. I had to write the story to discover who the bird was, and what it really wanted.

  True Vision

  Even though it was only 10:30 P.M., Gabriella decided to call it a night. Tiredness made her eyes b
urn: When she squeezed them shut, they felt hot and gritty. She’d been working since 6:30 A.M., with an early morning call to Hyderabad, followed by a virtual breakfast meeting with their technical consultants in Kiev.

  Gabriella pushed back from her cool glass desk, stretching against her Aeron chair. She shut down her computer, then, after a moment’s hesitation, turned off her BlackBerry. If someone really needed the head of acquisitions and mergers during the next eight hours, they could call her security team and have someone knock on her door.

  With the help of her favorite titanium cane, Gabriella pushed herself upright. All the floors in the house were beautiful, dark-oak hardwood, easy for her to walk across, no rugs she could trip on. She made her way down the long corridor to her bedroom, black-and-white photographs of old amusement parks—wooden Ferris wheels, exuberant freak show signs—lining the way. At the end of the corridor she entered the code to shut the house down, alerting the security team that she was locked in her room for the evening. No one would disturb her unless it was a dire emergency.

  And no one dared enter Gabriella’s room without her explicit approval.

  Now, finally, Gabriella could relax. She knew she was alone, completely unmonitored in here. She paid a lot for her guaranteed privacy, but it was worth it.

  The master bedroom suite reflected the rest of the house, a mixture of modern and old: a maple, queen-sized sleigh bed filled the bedroom, while modern, smoked-glass cabinets stood opposite; an old mahogany sideboard had been repurposed as her sink, with a beautiful green-glazed bowl sitting in the center of it; the bath held luxury shower heads in a 180-degree arc, standing underneath a small antique chandelier.

  Gabriella changed into a long-sleeved, burgundy silk pajama top. Carrying the bottoms, she sat heavily on her bed, sinking into the foam mattress. She unzipped first one, then the other of her one-piece boot-socks, pulling them off her cloven feet. She signed heavily as she slipped on her pajama bottoms, then under the sheets, careful not to snag her hooves on the soft cotton.

  However, Gabriella found her eyes opening again as soon as she turned off the light. She lay on her side, facing the empty half of the bed.