The Face

say.
        [160] “When the lights dimmed and went off, your friend laughed. Just a little laugh, not long, not loud. He glanced at the ceiling as the lights flickered, and he laughed, and then he left.”
        Ethan waited.
        Rowena appeared to be surprised that she had said this much about such a small moment, but then she added, “There was something terrible about that laugh.”
        The beautiful dead roses behind walls of glass.
        A beast of wind snuffling at the door.
        Rain gnashing at the windows.
        Ethan said, “Terrible?”
        “I don’t have the words to explain it. No humor in that laugh, but some terrible… quality.”
        Self-conscious, she brushed at the spotless countertop with one hand, as if she saw dust, debris, a stain.
        Clearly, she had said all that she wished to say, or could.
        “God bless you and your roses,” Ethan told her, as though he were countering a curse.
        He didn’t know what he would have done had the lights flickered, but they burned steadily.
        Rowena smiled uncertainly.
        Turning to the door again, Ethan encountered his reflection and closed his eyes, perhaps to guard against the sight of an impossible phantom figure sharing the glass with him. He opened the door, then opened his eyes.
        In a growl of wind and a jingle of overhead bells, he stepped out of the shop into the cold teeth of the December night, and drew the door shut behind him.
        He waited in the entry alcove, between the display windows, as a young couple in raincoats and hoods passed on the sidewalk, led by a golden retriever on a leash.
        Relishing the rain and wind, the soaked retriever pranced on webbed paws, snout lifted to savor mysterious scents upon the chilly [161] air. Before it fully passed, it looked up, and its eyes were as wise as they were liquid and dark.
        The dog halted, pricked its floppy ears as much as they would prick, and cocked its head as though not entirely sure what kind of man stood here in the shelter of the coral-pink awning, between the roses and the rain. The tail wagged, but only twice, and tentatively.
        Stopped by their canine companion, the young couple said, “Good evening,” and Ethan replied, and the woman spoke to the dog, “Tink, let’s go.”
        Tink hesitated, searching Ethan’s eyes, and only moved on when the woman repeated the command.
        Because the couple and the dog were headed in the direction of his SUV, Ethan waited briefly, to avoid following on their heels.
        The leaves of the curbside trees were still gilded by lamplight, and from their pointed tips flowed drips and drizzles as glimmerous as molten gold.
        In the street, the traffic appeared to be lighter than it should have been at this hour, moving faster than the weather warranted.
        Awning by awning, Ethan approached the Expedition, fishing keys from his jacket pocket.
        Ahead, Tink twice slowed to an amble, looked back at Ethan, but didn’t stop.
        The ozone-scented cascades of rain couldn’t rinse away the yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread, which issued from one of the glittery restaurants preparing to open their doors for dinner.
        At the end of the block, the dog halted once more, turning its head to stare.
        Though her voice was muffled by distance, screened by the sizzle of rain and the swish of passing traffic, the woman could be heard saying, “Tink, let’s go.” She repeated the command twice before the dog began to move again, picking up the slack in its leash.
        The trio disappeared around the corner.
        Arriving at the red zone near the end of the block, where he had [162] parked illegally, Ethan hesitated under the last awning. He monitored the approaching traffic until he saw a long gap between vehicles.
        He stepped into the rain and crossed the sidewalk. He jumped over the dirty racing current in the gutter.
        Behind his SUV, he thumbed the lock-release button on his key fob. The Expedition chirruped at him.
        Having waited until there was no passing traffic to splash him, he rounded the back of the vehicle while a chance remained that he could avoid an immediate need for a dry cleaner.
        Approaching the driver’s door, he realized that he had not taken a close look at the SUV itself from the shelter of the final awning, and suddenly he was convinced that this time, when he