“Really? Not in my family,” Brant informed her. “My sister is expected to achieve just as much as I do.” He seemed to reconsider that comment. “Actually, they expect more from her, since she has a higher IQ. No free passes in my family.”
“Is she a scientist too?”
“Yes, it was expected of us,” he replied with a defeated sigh then shook his head. “I can’t tell you how disappointed they are with me.” There was a hint of a smirk on his face. “When I quit the lab and invested in this place a year ago, you would think the world had ended.” He suddenly laughed while sitting down alongside her. “On the bright side, it’s turned their matchmaking down a notch or two. Since they can’t brag about my profession anymore, they don’t bring as many future brides home to meet me.”
She turned on her rolling chair and stared at him with surprise. “They’re pushing you to get married?” she gasped.
“Every chance they get,” he remarked.
Devon immediately frowned, knowing how that felt. “My father thinks I should be married, barefoot, and pregnant too,” she informed him. “I get so angry with him.”
“In my family, it’s my mother pushing for grandchildren,” he remarked with little emotion. “I’m afraid my sister and I have been very disappointing in that respect too.” He drew a deep breath then sighed. “I’d love to give you some inspirational talk about dealing with your father, but I can’t even stand up to my own family, so I’m the last one to give out any advice.”
She studied him a moment and marveled at the transformation in just a few days. He was finally comfortable enough to look her in the eyes and not act so nervous around her. He must have figured out she wasn’t going to bite him. For a brief moment, she stared back at him. Her thoughts immediately strayed to how handsome he looked in his lab coat. She could definitely see the scientist from his past. Perhaps a little geeky in the nerdy genius sort of way, but she definitely classified him as datable.
It had been a while since she’d been interested in dating anyone. She’d always been attracted to cowboys, but her father’s ranch hands always seemed to crush her fantasies with their drifter lifestyle talk. Devon snapped out of her trance and realized she and Brant had been staring into each other’s eyes a little too long without anyone speaking.
“Hey, hey,” Ross cried out from the doorway. “Lunch has arrived!”
Both jumped as if they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been doing. They turned on their stools and saw Ross enter the workshop holding up two paper bags. Tony followed him into the room.
“Tony,” Devon announced with enthusiasm, surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m the official delivery boy,” Tony teased.
“A mortician that delivers,” Brant remarked with a hint of humor then grimaced at the comment. “Sounds a little creepy to me.”
“What’s this?” Tony announced while eyeing Brant with surprise. “Dr. Sheffield acquired a sense of humor? Will the wonders never cease?”
“I’m training him well,” Ross teased. “He’s a work in progress.”
“Don’t train him too well,” Tony remarked and indicated the paper bags. “I’m not springing for lunch every day.”
Ross grabbed his sandwich from the bag. “I’ll pay you back one day.”
“I hear that every other day,” Tony remarked with a defeated sigh. “I doubt I’ll ever see a cent of that money.” Tony approached the small refrigerator, looked inside, and then eyed the guys. “What? No beverage?” he demanded as he straightened. “Who was in charge of drinks? Come on, guys. I bring food. You can’t expect me to spring for everything.”
“There’s more soda upstairs,” Brant informed him. “No one died.”
“I’ll get the soda,” Devon offered.
Chapter Thirteen
Devon entered the kitchen through the door marked ‘private’. It was a shortcut from the workshop to the kitchen. There was also a rear entrance to the museum basement, which allowed for deliveries, particularly of bigger items. The construction workers from outside were sitting around the kitchen table having their lunch. Karl helped himself to a soda from the refrigerator then noticed Devon as she entered.
“I heard you got the job,” Karl teased.
“Yeah,” she replied while hiding her smile. “Working with Ross is like working in a cartoon strip.”
Devon opened the refrigerator and removed four cans of soda.
Karl hovered over her while uncomfortably close, giving the appearance of a hungry wolf. “We should go out tonight and celebrate your new job,” he informed her as if it were already decided. “We’ll go to the new nightclub at the resorts. I hear it’s wild on Friday nights.”
Devon fidgeted and wondered how many times she’d have to turn Karl down before he took the hint. “I can’t,” she informed him. “I have plans with Ivy.”
“We’ll all go together,” he insisted while grinning. “I’ll find her a date.”
Devon could only imagine which of his crazy friends he would pick for Ivy. “We’ve already made other plans,” she replied in a firm tone.
The four construction workers at the table snickered lowly, possibly enjoying seeing their co-worker shot down. Karl appeared irritated by their mocking snickers. He placed his hand on the counter on either side of Devon, trapping her against the counter.
“I don’t think you get it, Devon,” he announced while grinning slyly. “I’m giving you a-once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go out with the most popular man in town. Since you’re not my usual type, I’d think you’d jump at the offer.”
She wondered if he even heard himself when he spoke. Perhaps he felt he was paying her a compliment or doing her a favor.
“Ego check, Karl,” she snapped hotly. “I’m not interested in you, and I never will be. Peddle your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to someone else.”
The guys burst out laughing, which only irritated Karl further. He grabbed her arm forcing the soda cans to fall to the floor. For a brief moment, she froze. The incident in the barn with Joe came flooding back in a horrible tidal wave of fear.
“You’re being rude,” he snarled.
As she stared into his eyes, mildly panic-stricken, something inside her suddenly snapped. Devon yanked her arm free from Karl and violently shoved him back a step. The other workers stared in silence, no longer finding the situation funny.
“Keep your fucking hands off me, Price,” she shouted in anger.
“What’s going on here?” Brant suddenly demanded, surprising everyone.
Karl looked at Brant within the kitchen doorway and attempted a casual smile. The four construction workers collected their lunches, leaped up from their chairs, and practically bolted from the kitchen.
“Devon and I were just talking,” Karl informed him while attempting to laugh it off.
“And if this conversation ever comes up again, you’ll be doing it with a broken nose,” Devon lashed out in anger at the egotistical man.
Brant looked from Devon to Karl with a stern glare. “I don’t know what you said to her, but I suggest you get out of my museum.”
“You can’t be serious,” Karl announced with a nervous laugh.
“Would you like me to call Larry and have him remove you?” Brant demanded.
Karl became irritated then turned and pointed a warning finger at Devon’s face. “If I lose my job over this, you’ll be sorry.”
Brant suddenly grabbed Karl’s wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and slammed him face first onto the kitchen table. The table squeaked as it moved from the force. Brant leaned over Karl’s shoulder while keeping him painfully pinned to the table.
“Don’t threaten my employees,” Brant growled into his ear. “If you so much as look at her wrong, we’ll finish this conversation in the emergency room.”
Brant released Karl’s wrist and took a step back. Karl immediately straightened and spun to face Brant. A tense moment passed, as i
t appeared Karl would retaliate since he had the size advantage. The moment was short-lived, and he seemed to think better of it.
“Now get out,” Brant snarled.
Karl gave Brant a dirty look and hurried from the kitchen. Brant shook his head with irritation then looked at Devon, who could do little more than stare at her boss with her mouth hanging open.
“Are you okay?” Brant asked.
“What the hell was that?” she practically gasped, unable to believe what she’d just witnessed.
“What was what?” he asked with surprise.
“You took Karl down like a deranged ninja,” she announced while staring at him.
“That was a basic self-defense move,” he informed her. “If I went ninja on him, they’d be scraping him off my kitchen floor.”
“You can do that?” she gasped.
“I was the rich, geeky kid in school,” he casually replied while sighing. “If my father hadn’t made me take karate, I’d probably still be trying to escape my gym locker.” He tilted his head while staring at her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied then picked up the discarded soda cans.
She attempted to hold the cans, but she was shaking too badly. Brant took the cans from her and set them on the counter.
“It’s okay,” he announced gently while staring into her eyes. “He’s gone.”
“I know,” she replied while placing a trembling hand to her forehead. “It’s just--” She groaned and shook her head. “I used to handle that sort of thing better. After a similar incident with one of my father’s ranch hands, I just feel like everything inside freezes. It’s like I lost the ability to defend myself.”
“I thought you handled yourself rather well,” Brant remarked. He offered a tiny smile then casually shrugged. “You really didn’t need me interfering. I just have a short fuse and an explosive temper.”
“I don’t always feel as if I’m in control of my life anymore.” She folded her arms insecurely across her chest and fidgeted. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
“No, it makes sense,” he informed her and leaned against the counter. “Broken trust; decreased confidence; anger with no outlet. It’s as if you’ve already met my mother.”
Devon eyed him a moment then felt herself relax and smile. Both laughed. Brant collected the cans of soda and indicated the basement door.
“Come on. We should get back downstairs,” he announced with an odd seriousness. “Before Ross eats both our lunches.”
Chapter Fourteen
It was late afternoon by the time Ross and Devon were finally able to set up the wax figures in the phantom display. The display was coming together nicely and was close to being finished. The phantom was seated before his pipe organ in a menacing pose while a woman lay unconscious on a fainting couch. Devon added some final touches to the unconscious wax woman then frowned and pulled a cobweb from her blonde hair.
“Those thirty wax figures we got from that closed museum were a godsend,” Devon announced then shook her head. “But they’re still dusty as hell.”
“You should do what I did,” Ross announced while sitting on the bench alongside the phantom and pretended to play the organ. “Take their wigs outside and beat them against the side of the building.”
Devon eyed the wax woman a moment then uncertainly tugged on her scalp. With some effort, the blonde wig lifted, almost startling her. There was a residue left around her waxy, bald head, which was a mild glue meant to hold the wig in place. Devon sighed with relief then laughed nervously.
“I thought I was going to rip the whole face off for a minute there,” she announced. “Brant’s better creations have hair implanted right into the wax.”
Ross stood and turned to face her. He held his hand up. She tossed him the wig, which he immediately beat against the fake wall. Devon cringed as she watched the dirt fly from it.
“I can’t believe how realistic some of those wigs are,” she announced. “Especially considering how old they must be.”
“A little glue to hold them in place, and they’re nearly real,” Ross replied and tossed the wig back to her. “I don’t know why Brant wastes so much time implanting hair into his favorites.”
She caught the wig and replaced it on the woman’s head. It would need more glue to secure it, but at least it wasn’t dusty. A flap of wax stuck up at the edge of the wig. Devon pushed it back down and secured the wig over it.
“I should get the glue,” Devon remarked.
“I’ll take care of it later,” Ross informed her with little care. “I have plenty of other things that need a little glue.”
Brant entered the display dressed in a stylish, black tuxedo while struggling with the tie. He barely even noticed them, since he was having such difficulty with his own wardrobe.
Ross looked up and whistled then chuckled. “Someone’s got a hot date tonight.”
“I wish,” Brant muttered and nearly gave up on his tie, throwing his hands down with frustration. “Another tiring formal party at my parents’ house in the city. The world would undoubtedly end if I didn’t attend.”
Without prompting, Devon approached and helped him with the tie. He watched in near surprise as she skillfully fixed it.
“Ah, just tell them to blow off,” Ross announced with noted irritation. “If I had parents like yours, I’d disown them.”
“Sometimes I’d like to,” Brant replied then sighed. “But they’re my parents, and I was taught to respect my parents.” He remarked then frowned. “Even if they are irritating as hell.”
Devon straightened and smoothed the tie while grinning proudly at her handy work. He eyed the tie then looked at her and laughed.
“How did you get so good at that?” he asked.
“It’s the same knot I use on my horse’s saddle girth,” she replied then flashed a smile.
“Huh,” he remarked with some surprise then fidgeted and looked at his watch. “I have to leave in half an hour,” Brant informed them. “If you could clean up what you’re working on, you’ll be able to leave early.”
“We’re almost finished with this display,” Ross informed him. “It’ll just be another hour. We’ll lock up on our way out.”
“Tyler won’t like that,” Brant announced with a sigh. “It’ll have to wait until Monday.”
“The entire weekend off?” Ross questioned. “What’s the occasion?”
“I’m required to spend the weekend at my parents’ house,” Brant informed him then rolled his eyes. “Believe me; I’d rather be working. I wouldn’t doubt my mother finally found a suitable host to carry her grandchildren.”
“Honestly, Brant, you need a life,” Ross informed him. “I’m sure if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find one or two illegitimate rug rats of yours running around out there.”
Brant seemed to tense then chuckled. “I highly doubt it, Ross,” he remarked. “My life hasn’t been nearly that interesting.”
“Man, if I had your money--” Ross began.
“You’d buy a decent car,” Devon scoffed without hesitation. “That clunker of yours has been dying a slow death for years.”
Ross glared at her, obviously offended that she’d trash his treasured car. “Hey, sister,” he snapped, “you don’t even own a car.”
“I’d love to stay and debate this all night with you,” Brant announced then muttered, “trust me, I would, but I have to go next door and get my weekend bag. See you on Monday.”
As they watched him leave the phantom display, Ross shook his head shamefully then cast a stern look at Devon and folded his arms across his chest.
“What’s wrong with my car?” he demanded with annoyance.
She groaned, shook her head, and walked away from the set. Ross hurried after her.
“Seriously,” he announced. “It’s a classic.”
“It’s a multi-colored beast held together with Bondo and duct tape,” she snapped back as they left the display.
The wig on the unconscious wax woman shifted, and the waxy flap again popped open. Beyond the wax were strands of jet-black hair.
Chapter Fifteen
It was early evening and the diner located in the center of town was busy with its usual Friday night dinner crowd. The diner was a 1970’s throwback with tables, booths, and counter seating. Jamie approached the small counter separating the kitchen from the diner and clipped her new order to the revolving wheel. Another waitress, Marlene Preston, deposited a pile of dirty dishes into a tub just near the kitchen door. Marlene impatiently glared at her young, blonde co-worker.
“You could tend to your tables without young, good-looking men too, you know,” Marlene scoffed with annoyance.
“I was getting there,” Jamie protested, although her tone conveyed she did not intend to do so. “Don’t worry about my tables.” She gave her co-worker a quick once-over, conveying her superiority over the woman. “When I’m famous, you’ll show a little more respect.”
“You didn’t get that acting job yet,” Marlene snapped. “So stop acting all high and mighty.”
“Burt Danson was very impressed with me,” Jamie informed her proudly while adding a sly grin. “You’re just jealous.”
Jamie spun on her heels and walked away with an added swagger to her walk. Marlene watched her and rolled her eyes. Marlene was an attractive woman in her late twenties and possibly had been one of the more popular women in town before Jamie came of age. Her hair was jet-black and as smooth as silk. Her creamy white complexion and full lips made her almost impossible to ignore. Add her curvaceous body, and she was a vision of beauty. There may have been a time when she had the same insufferable attitude as Jamie, but maturity seemed to tone that down. The phone rang not far from where Marlene stood. She snatched the phone from the hook with some hostility.
“Fairview Diner,” she announced with a huff. She listened to the caller on the other end then frowned. “One moment.”
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