by Sarah Atwell
“Will she be coming back?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she knows.” I sipped at my tea, trying to calm myself. “Look, I know it’s kind of a shock for her, going back to a place she hadn’t been in twenty-odd years, seeing all her relatives, all grown up now. It’s weird. It’s a pretty small town, in the middle of nowhere, and the place itself has barely changed at all, so I can imagine that she might feel she’s in some kind of time warp. I can certainly sympathize with that.” Especially because I had so few relatives myself, apart from Cam. “But I think she owes Cam something. Don’t you? I guess the fact that she couldn’t face him—even over the phone—makes me wonder just how committed to him she is.”
Nessa looked down at her mug, swirling the tea round and round. “I think that she has some catching up to do, learning to deal with the real world, without her late husband’s influence. But I also agree that that should involve facing up to her responsibilities and talking to Cam herself.”
“That’s what I thought. Oh, hell, Nessa, I know that Cam is kind of over the top about her. He’s never really been in love before, so maybe he’s been storing it up all these years. And if I were on the receiving end of that, I might run the other way too, even without Allison’s baggage. He can be pretty intense. It’s just that I don’t want to hurt him, and I guess I’m pissed at Allison for putting me in this position. It’s not fair.”
“It isn’t, but neither is life. Would you like some more tea?”
I looked at Nessa then and realized she was kidding me. “And sympathy? No, I’m good. And thank you for letting me vent. I must say I’m glad Cam won’t be back until tomorrow—I need time to think, when my brain isn’t quite so addled.” I swallowed the last of my tea. “Oh, by the way, we saw Allison’s Uncle Frank while we were in Ireland. He said he was coming to Tucson for the Gem Show, any day now.”
“Really.” Nessa’s serene expression didn’t change.
“Nessa! Did you know?”
Was that a blush? “He might have mentioned it.”
“Nessa, you sly dog, you. Carrying on behind my back.”
“I wouldn’t call a few letters ‘carrying on.’ And a couple of e-mails.”
I smiled at her. “Well, Nessa, old friend, you have my blessing. I like Frank, and I’m glad he’s coming back. Although how you two can manage any sort of relationship with several thousand miles between you is beyond me.”
“One step at a time. And I don’t see that proximity has made your relationship with Matt any easier.”
Matt Lundgren, Tucson’s chief of police, and I had had an on-again, off-again relationship for years—the “off” part came when his wife had returned from a so-called trial separation. The “on-again” part was the positive result of some unpleasant business that had taken place in my glass studio a few months back. “True. I should call him and let him know I’m back. I told Frank we should all get together while he’s here.”
“I’m sure we will. So, tell me all about Ireland.” A neat deflection on Nessa’s part.
“Cold! Most of the time I was wearing about seven layers of clothes, and it still wasn’t enough.” Nobody had bothered to tell me that Ireland in February would be freezing. And that they really weren’t into central heating over there. “Maybe cold alone I could have handled, but not the damp. Even the room at the B & B wasn’t a whole lot warmer than the outside.”
Em, you are now officially a Tucsonan. I had missed my adopted hometown’s justly renowned “dry heat.” I might’ve grown up on the East Coast, but ten years in Tucson had changed my metabolism, and I just didn’t do cold and wet anymore.
“We put the stone on Allison’s mother’s grave—that’s why Frank was there—and had a nice service, and there were all these relatives. I gave up trying to figure out who was related to whom. Allison was kind of overwhelmed, at least at the beginning, but after a couple of days she seemed to slip right back into it.”
“Did you get to see anything else?”
“A bit. I went to Waterford to see how they handle glass—it’s a very different technique, and it’s not really my style, but it was interesting. And I spent a day or two in Dublin—some gorgeous collections in the museums there. That’s about it.” A wave of fatigue washed over me. “Listen, Nessa, I really have to crash. I’m sure there’s business stuff we should go over, but my brain is fried right now. I’ll be down bright and early in the morning, okay?”
“Not a problem, my dear. You catch up on your sleep. I’m sure things will look better in the morning.”
Half an hour later, the dogs walked, fed, and watered; myself scrubbed and tucked in, I was ready for oblivion. But my last conscious thought was, Poor Cam. . . .
Chapter 2
Iron impurities in the sand and limestone used in glassmaking can discolor the glass.
I awakened before dawn—my internal time clock was still operating on Irish time, which was hours ahead of Tucson. I tried to calculate how many and gave up. But at least I felt ready to take on the day and whatever came with it. When I stumbled out of my bedroom, I noted that there were more boxes stacked in the living area, so apparently Cam must’ve arrived while I was dead to the world. His bedroom door was shut, so on tiptoe, I did the necessary stuff, fed and walked the dogs, and went down to the studio, grateful for a chance to take a fresh look at things without distractions.
There was one big issue at the top of my to-do list. When I had first opened my studio, I had plowed just about all my available capital into buying the building, which I had figured would provide everything I needed—a roomy studio, a corner shop with good visibility, and living quarters above. Of course, the so-called living quarters had consisted of a single open space with brick walls and a poured concrete floor, but since it was just me living there, I could build it out as time and money allowed. The main living areas were still pretty much a single space, but I had carved out two bedrooms and installed a spacious bathroom between them. It suited me, and Fred and Gloria when they had come along.
Since money had been tight, I’d made do with a lot of secondhand glassblowing equipment in the studio. Some items were essential: a midsize pot furnace that held a crucible to melt and hold the glass at the right temperature, a couple of glory holes to work the individual glass pieces, an annealer to cool the finished pieces. A number of blowpipes, a pipe warmer. Benches to work at could be improvised, as could some of the other bits and pieces, like water buckets for the wooden tools. Some of the bigger pieces I had bought used, including the furnace. I’d replaced the relatively fragile pot inside the furnace more than once, but then the outer portion—the insulating castable refractory, to use the precise term—had cracked, and that meant it was time to replace the whole piece before things got any worse.
I’d had my eye on a larger, freestanding furnace, which would cut my energy costs, but it had seemed beyond my modest means. Then a nice little windfall had fallen into my lap, so for once I had some money in the bank. The trip to Ireland had been my treat to myself (and Allison); the new furnace was a business investment—a five-figure one. I had ordered it and entrusted its installation to Nessa’s oversight, but now it was up to me to break it in. Even if it worked perfectly, I would still have to get the feel of it, find out where its sweet spots were, and how quickly it heated glass. That was one of the reasons I had scheduled the installation for this particular time period: I knew that business would be slow—more like nonexistent—during the annual Tucson Gem Show, and I had planned to use that period as my break-in time.
The world-renowned Gem Show, or to give its full title, the Tucson Gem, Mineral and Fossil Showcase, is a wondrous event—if you are into gems, which I am not. The event, or rather, events, takes over the entire city for two weeks every year. There are hundreds of vendors and dealers who show up and occupy fifty or so venues, and snap up every hotel room for miles. And that doesn’t even include the visitors, or as they are sometimes known, treasure hunters. One might think t
hat a small business person such as myself would welcome this influx of potential customers, but alas, they were all focused on gems, and not easily diverted. The net result was that business for the rest of us Tucson artisans was pretty much flat during the first two weeks in February, which is why I felt I could leave for a week to take a vacation of sorts, and why I could install and test new equipment. And the added benefit this year was that Frank Kavanagh was coming to see the show. I really liked Frank, an Australian diamond dealer and a real charmer. So, apparently, did Nessa.
I stood in the midst of my studio and stared at the new furnace against the back wall. Glass furnaces are seldom pretty things, and this was no exception. But it was clean and whole and, I hoped, properly connected. There was only one way to find out, so I loaded up a new crucible with clear glass, set it in place, and studied the control panel, tweaking a few settings before turning it on. I looked at my watch—I needed to know how long it would take to come to the right temperature to melt the glass. But the interior was glowing nicely. So far, so good.
I could see through the window between the shop and the studio that Nessa had come in and was setting up for the day. I turned my back on the furnace to return to the shop.
“Morning, Nessa. Listen, if Allison is going to be gone for a while, we’ll need to work out some sort of coverage for the shop, although things should be pretty slow while the Gem Show’s on. I can cover some of the time, but I should do some work and build up my inventory of glass, or you won’t have much to sell when business picks up again.”
Before she had a chance to answer, I heard the front door open and close again, and turned to find Cam. Oh no. I wasn’t ready to talk to Cam. Unfortunately I had no choice.
“Hi, Em, Nessa. Em, you were snoring away when I came in last night. What were you saying about Allison? She hasn’t answered my phone calls.”
Nope, no way around it. I took a deep breath. “Cam, it’s great to see you. I can’t wait to tell you about the trip, but first I have to talk to you about Allison.” I glanced at Nessa, who was suddenly very busy dusting the glass shelves. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Cam gave me an odd look, then followed me wordlessly out of the shop, up the stairs, and into my home. He barely let me get through the door and shut it before he turned and confronted me. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine, Cam. It’s just that . . . Why don’t we sit down?”
He remained standing. “Em, you’re waffling, and that’s not like you. Where is she?”
I swallowed. “She’s still in Ireland. She wanted to stay a little longer, since she hasn’t been there since she got out of school, and there are so many relatives to catch up with. . . .”
Cam was staring at me, his eyes cold. “When is she coming back?” he said tightly. “Or maybe I should ask, is she coming back?”
Trust Cam to get right to the point. “Cam, I don’t know. It all just came up, and she asked me to tell you—”
He interrupted me, and now I could see that he was angry. “She asked you to tell me? She didn’t have the decency to pick up the phone and talk to me?”
“I think she wasn’t sure how to tell you, and she didn’t want to hurt you, so . . .”
“. . . so she took the coward’s way out,” he said, finishing the sentence for me. “And she let you do her dirty work, after all you’ve done for her.” I’d never seen my brother so angry and so icy at the same time.
“Cam, listen to me! She just needs some time to figure things out. The last few months have been hard, and I thought we could use the vacation, go somewhere away from here and have some fun. I wish you could have come with us. . . .” I trailed off. Who was I making excuses for?
Cam’s face changed: his anger faded into sadness. “I wish I had.” I could almost see his pretty castles in the air crumbling before his eyes. The woman he loved had blown him off and hadn’t even bothered to tell him face-to-face. This little scene was as bad as I had expected, and there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted to grab onto Cam and hold him until the pain passed, but it really wasn’t my place to do that. He’d have to deal with it on his own.
“I see,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “That’s how much I matter to her.” He straightened his shoulders, and I could almost see him shaking off the pain, like a dog shaking water from its coat. “I’m sorry she put you in the middle of this, Em. I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought. Listen, I’ve hauled most of my stuff in and stuck it in the second bedroom. But I’ve lined up a freelance project here. . . . I think I’ll just take a few days, go somewhere else, and work on that, if you don’t mind.”
“Cam, why would I mind? I’m glad you’ve got something to work on. You don’t have to start the new job for another week or two, right?” If you still want that job, now that your reason for being in Tucson is on another continent. Well, there was still me, but that wasn’t quite the same thing. And maybe it was a good idea for Cam to be somewhere else while he digested Allison’s betrayal. Or what must feel like a betrayal. I didn’t even dare ask about his plans for apartment hunting. Of course, he was welcome to stay with me as long as he liked, and he knew that. “What’s the company called?”
“SDE.” When I looked blank, he went on. “Sustainable Desert Ecology.”
“Right. Listen, you can hang around through dinner tonight, can’t you? I’d love to tell you about . . .” I censored myself again: the last thing he would want to hear about right now was Ireland. “Hey, Frank’s headed for Tucson. He should be here in a day or two.”
That at least brought a spark of interest. “Frank? What’s he doing here?”
“He said he wanted to see the Gem Show—he’s never been, and he’s heard about it even in Australia. He’s planned to meet up with some people who came for the show.”
“You talked to him?”
“Of course. He was there in Ireland. Oh.” So Cam hadn’t known that either. “I think he came as a surprise for Allison. He even set up a wake of sorts for her mother, his sister.”
“And a good time was had by all, no doubt,” he said bitterly.
“Cam.” I reached out a hand but dropped it again. I was pretty sure there was nothing I could say or do right now that would make him feel better, no matter how much I wanted to. “I’ve got to get some work done, but I’ll be right downstairs. We can talk about this later, okay?”
He shrugged. “I think I’ll take a rain check on dinner—I may be busy. But give me a call on my cell phone when Frank shows up.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say that would help, so I turned and fled.
Downstairs, Nessa looked up when I came in and cocked an eyebrow at me. “That didn’t go well, I take it?”
“As well as you’d expect. Damn! How did I get stuck in the middle of this?”
“Because you have a good heart, Em. And you never know how things will turn out. Besides, I wouldn’t be so quick to write Allison off.”
I leaned against the wall and stared at her. “What, you’re defending her? After what she just did to Cam?” Then I processed what she had said. “You think she’s coming back?”
“We’ll see. Em, I think you have to look at Allison as though she never had a chance to grow up. Her husband kept her isolated from the world, from friends. So she has a lot of catching up to do, and that takes more than a week. I think she’s come a long way since we first met her, but perhaps all our lives might have been easier if Cam hadn’t fallen for her.” When I started to protest, Nessa held up a hand. “What is, is. If she loves him, she’ll be back. When she’s ready.”
“I know—I do understand. I just hope Cam hangs on that long. Right now he’s not a happy camper.” I pushed myself off from the wall. “Well, we’ve got work to do. How were sales while I was gone?”
“About what you’d expect. . . .”
And we were off, immersed in the normal day-today minutiae of running a business.
There was only one interrupti
on: a call from Matt, midafternoon. “Hey, lady, welcome back. How was it?”
“Interesting. Cold. Complicated. Boy, am I glad to be back!”
“Do you have time for dinner tonight?”
“That would be great, if I don’t fall asleep first. My body seems to be stuck in another time zone. But for you I’ll make a special effort.”
He chuckled. “I’ll try to make it early, then. I’ll come by about six.”
“You’re on.” I hung up with a warm feeling somewhere in my chest. I’d missed Matt more than I had expected, and I was curious to discover how it would feel to see him again after we’d been apart for over a week—the longest we’d gone without seeing each other since we’d been together this time around. Or something like that. I shook my head. Time for some business.
My time sense was definitely whacked out, and the day kept alternately stretching and shrinking. The furnace was humming along nicely, but the glass wouldn’t be ready to work with for a while. I reviewed my inventory of pieces on the shelves, trying to figure out what I should fill in. The December holiday season had depleted my stock, and I made a mental note of what pieces had sold well. Another part of my mind reflected on what I had seen in Ireland. The Waterford approach had been interesting, and I had been lucky to grab a chance to talk to their only woman glassmaker, but there wasn’t much about the Waterford technique that I could use in my own work. I didn’t do anything like cutting. In a way, the cut crystal was closer to faceted gemstones than to the more sinuous forms of handblown glass, and that thought brought me back to thinking about the Gem Show.
When I had first moved to Tucson, I had done some of the obligatory touristy things, in what little free time I had. Everyone I met told me the Gem Show was a must-see, but I had been so wrapped up in starting up a business that I never managed to go. Besides, I really didn’t care much about jewelry. But if an insider like Frank was willing to escort me, it might be fun.
