whiter than snow

Lisa Maraventano — novel — $6.99

Blue

November 8, 2006

Bianca Winters couldn't help herself. She kept glancing over at the woman who'd started working in her office last week. The woman was gorgeous, trim and tall, only a couple of years younger than Bianca's forty. They both worked for the Department of Education enrolling students into New York's public school system. Shea had transferred from the office on Staten Island to the Manhattan office where Bianca had worked for the last ten years.

Shea looked away from her computer screen and caught Bianca staring at her. Shea smiled while Bianca, fretful and embarrassed, got back to work. Bianca made a phone call about a referral to a school to find out whether the student had shown up. The back of her mind kept trying to figure out what was so interesting to her about Shea. Bianca thought it might be jealousy. Every day, she felt she was wilting like a cut flower, dying in front of her own eyes.

Shea was heading over to Bianca's desk. "You want to get lunch today? I need help finding good places to eat."

Bianca looked up and smiled. Shea was nearly six feet tall with frosted streaks in her short blond hair and ocean-blue eyes. "Sure, sounds good."

"I can still look. I haven't gone blind," Julia salivated, dabbing with her napkin.

Bianca spent the next ninety minutes shuffling papers on her desk and windows on her computer while contemplating where to go to lunch. She decided on Melba's on 114th Street. She was hooked on shrimp and grits.

Watching Shea devour fried chicken and waffles, Bianca wondered how it was possible for her to stay so in shape if she ate like that. "I run," Shea said. "I've run the marathon four times. I ran fifteen miles yesterday. So I'm starving!"

"I'm so easy to read?" Bianca asked, suddenly alarmed.

"You're not too hard," Shea looked in her eyes. "I think I could figure you out."

Jason was her husband. They had been married since 1987, nineteen years now. They had a girl and a boy. A three-bedroom three-bath apartment on Central Park West and 76th Street. He worked for an investment bank. They had moved to New York nearly eleven years ago when Jason had been transferred from the office in California.

The weekend came and Bianca had talked to Orlando, her broker friend, about finding an apartment for Shea. After viewing a few places, Shea liked a partially-furnished apartment with an ornate working ceramic fireplace, arched doorways, a view of the Hudson River and a large alcove for the bed.

Shea stood behind Bianca and put her arms around her, resting her chin on Bianca's shoulder. Bianca leaned back into Shea and covered her hands with her own. "Thank you," Shea said into her ear.

"For what?" Bianca asked, turning.

Shea searched Bianca's eyes, her face. She reached up and smoothed Bianca's hair back. "Everything." The look of desire that came into her eyes before she kissed her etched onto Bianca's memory.

— many more chapters inside —