The frost on the window was thick and it always amazed me how it forms in intricate swirls and designs. There was even ice on the aluminum frame inside. As I looked out on the white blowing snow, the glass vibrated from the heavy wind blowing against it. The sky was a low-ceilinged dull gray, and a steady falling snow was swirling continuously. The sidewalks I'd shoveled only an hour ago were filling up. In the background the local weatherman was standing in front of a colored loop of radar display showing a huge area of snow, and the "Blizzard Warning" icon was displayed in the upper right hand corner of the screen. An endless list of school and business closings crawled quickly along the bottom of the tube.
I'd got the call last night that the gang had made it as far as my folks house some twenty miles away before they decided it was better to stop and ride it out there since they'd already passed several cars and semi's in the median and along the side of the road they were on. Initially, I'd thought they should have pressed on through, but watching the weather deteriorate all afternoon it became clear they'd made a good decision. I'd already got the call from my boss that the office would stay closed at least tomorrow. We'd been sent home early in the afternoon. Oh well. Peace and quiet was the order of the evening.
It would be dark soon, and that means supper. I went to the kitchen and was assessing the possibilities when the lights flickered. They became steady and I sighed with relief, when they flickered once more and then went out altogether. "Oh shit!" I said out loud. I stood waiting for almost a minute and nothing. I'd better begin to make plans now for a night without electricity. Fortunately we'd put in a fireplace insert last year, a real wood stove. Soon, I'd brought in a pile of firewood from the garage, and had a nice fire going. I shut the glass doors and felt the cast iron begin to heat up.
Knowing that I needed to keep the heat around the central part of the house to keep all the plumbing safe, I made my rounds in the darkening house, shutting up all the bedroom doors. I grabbed a couple of pillows and blankets from my bed, and tossed them on the couch. I found the flashlight, and found several emergency candles. The flames flickered lighting the room. I settled down and was about to put my MP3 player's earphones in my ears when the dog began to bark. There was a knock at the door.
It was Diane, our neighbor from next door. She was bundled up in her coat and standing in almost a foot of soft snow on the doorstep. Inviting her in, soon she was stamping the snow from her feet.
"It's starting to get cold over there, and I guess I got a little scared. Thought I'd come over and get toasty by your fireplace if you all didn't mind. I smelled the wood smoke when I came outside. Where's everyone at?"
I took her coat and hung it on the pegs in the entranceway, and she tugged her shoes off and left them by the wall. She walked on inside and just stood by the fireplace warming her cold hands.
I told her of the present state of affairs with my gang as she turned around to warm up her backside.
"So you're a bachelor tonight, huh?" she asked with a smile.
"Yeah, guess so. Lucky me, huh?"
That started an enjoyable evening of conversation. Diane had been our neighbor for years, and our kids had grown up together. We'd never been socially close, but we'd been great neighbors. There was always a pleasant exchange, borrowing of tools back and forth, watching each other's houses when vacations came. Almost as soon as their youngest child finished high school, her husband filed for divorce. We'd only seen his car once or twice in the five or six years since. Often I'd be called over to fix this or help with that. Diane had seemed to bounce back, always cheerful, always busy.
"So going to be extra cold at your place, huh? Hope the pipes don't freeze."
"Me too, but nothing I can do about it. I hate bein' cold".
"Your welcome to hang out here 'till the power comes back on, Ms. D. It'll be on the cold side here too, but the fire will keep it livable. I told you about getting a wood stove for your place. Maybe now you'll believe me, huh? Was about to scrounge up some supper when you knocked. Wanna' give me a hand?"
Soon we had some hot dogs on skewers cooking over the fire. We'd opened the glass door and I had put more wood on. As we chatted up close to the warmth, I couldn't help but notice how the flicker of firelight erases a lady's little creases and smoothes her soft skin better than any lotion. I leaned back on one arm and admittedly got caught up watching the patterns of light and shadow moving softly over the lady's cheeks as she chattered on.
I'd always thought Diane was a pretty lady. From the first day they moved in I'd catch myself stealing a little look at her. The years had brought changes of course, but I still found her very attractive. Her blonde hair had always been worn in a simple cut, shoulder length and always moving. She was obviously a mother, but her soft curves always looked so inviting and warm, full-figured but in perfect proportion head to toe. Last summer she caught me one morning peeking over her fence as she was cleaning off her patio in a bathing suit. Embarrassed, I started to make up some excuse for my being there, but she good-naturedly joked it off. It seemed to me at the time though that she enjoyed my looking at her. I don't remember her ever appearing in her back yard in shorts or bathing suits more often the entire time we'd been neighbors. I began to enjoy her little obvious teases. I had hoped the cool fall would be slow in coming. But it did.
After we'd finished eating, it was obvious the rest of the house was cooling down. The thermometer on the hall thermostat showed it dropping below 60 degrees, but holding steady right there. I pulled the coffee table aside and with Diane's help we pushed the couch closer to the fireplace. I'd tossed a couple more logs inside, and shut the glass door. Diane was arranging a blanket on one side of the couch with pillows and making a comfortable seat for herself on that end. I just watched her as she positioned her body to get comfortable, bouncing around and getting the pillows "just so". She looked up and saw me standing there just watching her, and she smiled.
"Know what would make this even more comfy, hon?" she asked.
"No, what?"
"A nice glass of something warm."
"You might be right. Let me go look."
We very rarely drank in our house. I'd have an occasional beer when out with the guys, but that was the extent of it. Once and awhile a glass of wine at a nice restaurant with dinner. I remembered a Christmas gift from last year, and soon found the little soft bag in the top of a cabinet behind the mixing bowls that held an unopened bottle of "the good stuff". I felt for two juice glasses in the darkness, and finding them, returned to the warm circle of light in the living room.
"Will this do?"
Diane looked up and made believe she was examining my offering with a connoisseur's knowing eye. "It will do" she finally said, looking at me and grinning.
Soon I poured a little bit into the glass she held up.
