The Joining Tree

by Claire Fogel

  She laughed. “Not possible, Cara.”

  Amy was working with her parents on the final stages of reopening the Strauss Bakery. It had a brand new kitchen and the building had been expanded to make room for a catering office that Amy would be running.

  “How’s the bakery coming along?” I asked her. “When’s the grand opening?”

  She was grinning. “Two more weeks. I’m putting a big ad in the Thornewood newspaper to let everyone in town know we’re back. I’ll also be serving free samples at the catering desk during the grand opening.”

  Glancing at Kevin, she added, “Keeping Kevin from the samples will probably require all of my energy.” She laughed. “But I hope you’ll take some time off from your artwork to come to our grand opening. Bring your mom and dad too, okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Your father has been great, Cara. He’s helped out a lot since my folks finally decided to rebuild instead of retiring.”

  For a while, Mr. and Mrs. Strauss were so freaked out by the arson fire that had destroyed the bakery’s kitchen, they had considered retiring. I think my parents finally convinced Amy’s parents how important the Strauss Bakery was to Thornewood.

  Kevin had already finished his last computer game, “Dragon Wars,” and was now working on something he was calling, “Return of the Alien.” I refused to think about what had inspired that title.

  He’d already given us our preproduction copies of Dragon Wars, but I hadn’t taken the time to play mine yet. Amy said she and her father were having a ball with it. Unlike me, they were both avid gamers.

  Kevin was doing extremely well financially, thanks to the diabolical computer games he was designing. The manufacturing company he was under contract to paid well. Kevin already had the expense of his first two years of college paid for.

  The generous college fund my father had set up when I was born would pay for all three years of the Barrett Art Institute, including my living expenses in Syracuse, with money left over. Where fathers were concerned, I’d been blessed—one more reason for the project I was working on.

  I had decided that my project should be done mostly in pen and ink, with just a touch of watercolor as an accent. I’d been working on it daily for three weeks when I ran out of India Ink. Of course, I’d known I was getting low and should have replaced it sooner, but I’d procrastinated. Right now, I could go no further until I bought more ink.

  Annoyed with myself, I pulled on a pair of sandals and drove downtown to the art supply shop. Naturally, they were completely out of India Ink, but the owner assured me he would receive a shipment in three or four days. I didn’t want to wait that long.

  “Do you know of any other stores that carry it locally?” I asked the manager.

  “Only the Artist’s Corner in Greenville. Let me call them for you before you drive over there.”

  Fortunately, that store had India Ink in stock. Unfortunately, Greenville wasn’t a place I particularly wanted to be since Nick Romanov was still out of jail, awaiting trial. I wondered if I could talk one of my friends into going with me.

  Amy was waiting for the new stove to be delivered to the bakery, and Kevin’s phone went to voice mail. My father was in Elvenwood for the day. I knew Randi wouldn’t be caught dead in Greenville, probably for the same reason I didn’t want to go there. I couldn’t call Sean. Who did that leave? I couldn’t go for days without ink!

  In my opinion, my need was urgent, so I left the house and jogged through the woods to my father’s camp, hoping to find one of my former bodyguards there.

  I was in luck. Gabriel walked out of a tent, spotted me and headed for me with a big smile on his good-looking face.

  “Cara! This is a nice surprise. What brings you here today? Your dad’s in Elvenwood. In the mood for a ride on Storm?”

  “Maybe later, Gabe. I need someone to ride to Greenville with me. I ran out of ink.”

  I was a little breathless. Gabe raised one eyebrow, looking a bit confused.

  “Uh, Gabe, I’m working on a project for my dad, a picture I want to give him before I leave for art school. I’ve got a few more weeks, but it’s a difficult project, the kind of thing I’ve never done before. I ran out of ink today and the store downtown won’t have any more for several days, but the store in Greenville has it in stock.”

  He nodded. “You don’t want to drive to Greenville alone? Is that the problem?”

  “Yes. That drug dealer is out on bail. I know he blames me for his arrest. I saw him in New York City a few weeks ago when my dad and I were there. I know he hates me. I’m lucky my dad was with me.”

  “Okay, Cara. I’ll have to change my clothes and let the other Elves know I have to leave camp for a while.” He pointed at the camp chairs around the campfire. “Have a seat. This won’t take long.”

  I sat down, relieved that I’d have a big, strong young man with me. If I ran into Romanov, he’d think twice before tangling with Gabe.

  Within minutes, Gabe was back, dressed in what the Elves called “human clothes,” jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes in place of the green tunics and slacks they normally wore.

  I couldn’t help smiling. They must have stocked up on “human clothes” last year while so many were playing bodyguard for my friends and me.

  With their Elven features glamoured, dressed in the predictable jeans and t-shirts, the Elves looked like human teenagers, but noticeably better looking. They couldn’t help it. The Elves, male and female, were a beautiful race.

  “Okay, Cara. Let’s go.”

  As we walked through the woods, Gabe said, “This will be a real treat. I’ve missed my bodyguard days almost as much as I miss football.” He was grinning. “I’ve never had so much fun. I know it was a huge relief to you when Gaynes was put in jail, but I was sorry to see it end.” He chuckled. “Purely selfish, of course.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Huge relief is putting it mildly. That monster wanted to kill me. If it hadn’t been for a certain dragon, along with my knives, he might have done it.”

  “Cara, your skill with knives has saved your life twice now. Don’t let yourself get rusty. You should keep practicing.”

  Gabe was grinning as we got into my big, black car. “I love your car. It looks powerful. Any chance we’ll get to race it today?”

  “Hate to disappoint you, but I doubt there will be any reason to race it. The speed limit is 65, and I’m not planning on going any faster than that.”

  I heard him mutter, “I can always hope.”

  It was early afternoon and traffic on the highway was light. We made it to Greenville in under thirty minutes. I only had to exceed sixty-five mph once when I had to pass a car doing fifty in the fast lane. To Gabriel’s delight, I got the car up to seventy-five for a few seconds, before slowing down to sixty-five again.

  “It’s a good thing you’ll probably never have a car,” I said to him.

  “I think I would be a very good driver.”

  “A very fast driver,” I added. “Lots of speeding tickets.”

  He just laughed. He was smiling the entire trip. Gabe really loved being in a car.

  We found Artist’s Corner on a side street and went inside to buy my ink. It was a much larger store than the art supply store in Thornewood, and I decided to spend a little time browsing. Gabe stayed at my side, just looking around, occasionally asking me to explain what something was used for.

  We stayed there for almost an hour before I decided I’d go broke if I stayed any longer. I’d purchased some large sheets of watercolor paper, a supply of heavy backing cardboard, several additional cakes of watercolor paint, and a few bottles of India Ink.

  As soon as I’d paid for my supplies, we left.

  I talked about watercolor painting as we walked back to where my car was parked, about a block away. When it came into view, I froze.

  Leaning on my fender with a nasty smile on his face was Nick Romanov.

  He took a few steps toward me, but when Gabe step
ped toward him and got in front of me, Romanov stopped short, dropping the smile.

  He sneered, “What’s the matter? Did you lose your knife?” Slowly he pulled what looked like my knife out of his back pocket.

  Within a split second, Gabe and I were both holding our knives in front of us, ready to throw, which Romanov clearly wasn’t expecting. For a split second, I saw fear on his face.

  He backed up, tossing my knife on the ground in front of me. “Just returning this, little girl. That’s all.” He sauntered away, looking over his shoulder at us until he reached the corner.

  When he’d disappeared from sight, Gabe reached down and picked up my knife.

  He looked at me. “Is this really yours?”

  I nodded. “The last time I saw it, it was sticking out of Romanov’s hand.”

  Gabe’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, I see. I’m guessing he would have done more than return it to you if I hadn’t been here.”

  I took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

  On the drive home, Gabe wanted to know more about my history with Romanov. When I’d finished describing my previous run-ins with the man, Gabe was quiet for a while. Finally, he asked, “Why hasn’t your father assigned a bodyguard for you?”

  I immediately shook my head. “Because I don’t want another bodyguard, Gabe. And I think my father’s too smart to force one on me.”

  I realized I sounded angry, and I didn’t want Gabe to think that my anger was directed at him.

  His voice was softer than usual when he said, “It’s okay. I think I understand.”

  I looked over at him and found him watching me carefully.

  “Cara, most of us were shocked when Adam left. But a few of us understood why he did.”

  That surprised me. “Why do you think he left?”

  “It was clear to me that you and Adam had become close. Even though Brian had assigned him to be your bodyguard, we all realized his devotion to you went beyond duty.”

  His words were making my heart pound as I realized that my relationship with Adam had not been a secret. Not to the other Elves.

  “Yes, we did become close. But why did he leave? I depended on him and he left without even a word.” I knew I sounded angry again.

  Gabe said, “Cara, I think the closeness between you was too much for Adam to handle. You weren’t a child to him, you know.”

  I had reached home and we were parked in front of my mom’s house.

  I didn’t say anything right away. After a few quiet minutes, I asked, “Do you think he’ll ever come back?”

  “Do you want him to come back?”

  I hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  I was making good progress on my pen and ink project when Miss Williams called from Syracuse a week later. She had moved into the upstairs apartment, the downstairs rooms had been painted, and I was welcome to come up to Syracuse any time.

  When I passed this information on to Mom, she looked pleased. “Well, we can drive up to furnish your new apartment whenever you’re ready. We’ll have quite a bit of shopping to do. I know you hate to shop, dear, but I think it will be fun. Your first home away from home, Cara. Aren’t you at least a little excited?”

  I nodded, still a bit unsure about all the shopping. “Maybe Amy will have time to go with us. That would speed up the shopping considerably.”

  My mother laughed, shaking her head. “Yes, the queen of shoppers. I know she’ll enjoy the whole process more than you will. Call her tonight. I know she’s been spending her days at the bakery, getting ready for their grand opening.”

  Amy was, of course, delighted to help me shop. “I can get away on Thursday. We’re not expecting any major deliveries that day, so Mom and Dad can handle anything else that’s going on. Shopping for your first apartment, Cara! This will be such fun. I can’t wait!”

  On Thursday Mom actually closed the bookstore for the day, something she rarely did, so I knew how excited she was about getting me situated in Syracuse.

  “Remember, Cara, I never had a chance to go to college, so I’m enjoying it vicariously. It’s not that I won’t miss you when you’re away, it’s more that I’m really happy for you. And when you’re home on weekends, you can tell me all the wonderful things you’re doing.” She sounded wistful as she added, “The next best thing to being there myself.”

  Before we left, I hugged her, something I didn’t do very often anymore.

  Amy and Mom chattered all the way to Syracuse. We’d taken my car, so I was perfectly happy to listen to them while I concentrated on driving. Amy described all of her plans for the new bakery, and Mom made a few suggestions.

  Amy wanted a complete description of my apartment in Syracuse. She had tons of ideas for furnishing it; I only had one or two ideas of my own.

  When Amy asked, “What’s our budget?” Mom simply smiled.

  “Brian wants Cara to have whatever she needs to be comfortable and happy, so I guess we don’t have to look too hard at price tags,” Mom said with a chuckle.

  “Cool!” Amy said. “This is really gonna be fun!”

  We arrived at Miss Williams’ house two hours later. I rang the bell and my smiling landlady let us in, promptly handing me a key for the front door and another key for the door to my new apartment on the ground floor.

  I unlocked the apartment door and we walked inside with Miss Williams.

  “I want to see how you like the paint job as well as the pieces of furniture I left for you. I can remove anything you won’t need, Cara.”

  “Thanks, Miss Williams. The paint is a perfect shade, a warm off-white.”

  We were standing in the cozy living room that featured one whole wall of built-in bookshelves and three windows on the wall that looked out on the street. There was a small table against the wall next to the doorway, and the floor was a highly polished hardwood that looked like oak. I’d need either a couch or a couple of armchairs, and maybe a coffee table.

  “I love this room,” I told Miss Williams. “Those bookshelves will come in handy. And I won’t need much furniture.”

  She smiled. “You’ll just need something to sit on. Now come and take a look at the kitchen. I think it already has everything you’ll need other than silverware, dishes and maybe a pan or two. Do you cook?”

  Mom laughed. “Cara uses the toaster, the microwave, and a coffee pot. That’s a very nice stove but it’s unlikely it will ever be turned on.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  The kitchen was also equipped with a built-in L-shaped breakfast nook that would seat four. There were thick gingham cushions on the seats. Mom said, “This looks comfortable.”

  Amy said, “Didn’t you say there was a café on campus?”

  I grinned. “Yep. That’s probably where I’ll get most of my meals. I’ll survive.”

  From the kitchen we walked into the bedroom and bath, small rooms but roomy enough for me. There was a double bed and a small dresser, so I wouldn’t have to buy those either.

  “Miss Williams, thanks so much for leaving so much furniture for Cara,” Mom said. “We won’t have to buy nearly as much as I’d expected.”

  My landlady smiled. “No problem, Mrs. Blackthorne. They’re all pieces I don’t need upstairs. I’ll leave you now. Have fun shopping!”

  There was one more room I wanted to inspect—the large room in the rear of the house that would be my studio. To me, it was the most important room.

  I walked through the bedroom into the larger room behind it. Three large windows let in the afternoon sun, and there was a sliding door closet at one side of the room. That would be perfect for storing my art supplies. Instead of the hardwood that had been used in the other rooms, the floor was an attractive black and white checkerboard vinyl tile.

  Mom said, “I think there was carpet in here when we visited before. Miss Williams took it up and replaced it with vinyl because you said you needed this room for your painting. Cara, your landlady has thought of everything.”

  I
was beaming. My mother was right. I looked at Amy. “What do you think, Amy? Do you like it?”

  Amy hadn’t said a word since we arrived. “This apartment is wonderful, Cara. It’s even partially furnished. All it needs is some color!”

  She was wearing a big grin and I knew she couldn’t wait to be let loose in a department store.

  Mom and I looked at us and smiled.

  “Let’s go shopping, girls!”

  Three hours later, we’d stopped for lunch and come close to maxing out Mom’s credit card at the huge department store near the Barrett campus. Fortunately, they were holding a “Back to School” sale.

  In addition to linens, towels, plates, coffee mugs, and silverware, I had picked out a plush, comfy couch covered in some kind of velour that felt just like velvet, and an easy chair in the same style. The couch was a pale smoky gray, and the chair was a deep blue that reminded me of someone’s eyes. I couldn’t help it. The chair looked perfect with the couch. Amy thought so too. On a more practical note, I found an adjustable office chair to use in my studio. Everything would be delivered the next day, and Miss Williams would be there to let them in.

  Since Amy was our resident “decorator,” she dashed through the store grabbing throw pillows, blankets, a down comforter, shower curtain, place mats and matching napkins which I insisted I wouldn’t need, and an ultra-modern coffee maker that looked like it could operate itself with no help from human hands.

  Practical Mom had taken over the kitchenware department. Despite my arguments, she insisted I might need a few pans some day. I threw my hands in the air and left her there, perusing the sleek stainless steel sets of cookery and the expensive implements that would rarely if ever be used, obviously enjoying herself.

  After I’d picked out colors for all the items Amy had found, we filled two shopping carts and returned to my mother who was still in the kitchenware department, debating the merits of two frying pans.

  “Mom, you know I’m not going to fry anything. Fear of flying grease, remember?”