Ethan had introduced them once when Kristof had ventured into the Peacock Phantasy Shoe Shoppe and the man had been rude from that first moment.
What it was that set her apart in Kristof’s mind as a target of hate, she didn’t know; be it her size, her attitude toward fashion, or her morals. It could be any or all of them.
But it hadn’t been until she heard about Amethyst & Alabaster’s nomination that she discovered that Kristof was the one who had been trying to sabotage her business.
And of all things, he now wanted a meeting with her, face to face, to discuss their differences. He was even willing to come to them, instead of trying to get her and Mariana to fly to see him in Italy, where he lived during the summer months.
He was set to arrive on the 19th and stay in town through the 27th. She and Mariana were at the top of his list of people to speak with during that brief stay before heading on to Los Angeles to prepare for the coming December’s Fashion Week.. Therefore, while the man was a nuisance, he was also considered an expert in accessories now… they could hardly afford to slight him, in spite of his seeming hatred.
Paloma started the dishwasher and began to peel potatoes for some au gratin, her mind still working.
Now, if Kristof Sage wants a meeting, we’ll need to be fully prepared. Why he called now, instead of sooner to allow us time to make an informed decision as to where he would stay is beyond me… for I don’t relish the thought of him staying here, she thought. He has some nerve insisting on it, as though it’s his right. To make staying in my home a condition is downright nasty. And it certainly isn’t professional, either!
But perhaps there was something more to it than she suspected. He’d mentioned getting together with the Peacocks, as well. Was he planning on staying the whole nine days at her home, or just the first day or two? And again, what was the motivation? To unnerve her, or to observe Amethyst & Alabaster more closely, or…?
The phone rang, the vibration of which startled her.
The peeler slipped from her hands to the floor, and she set the potato down as Confetti came to investigate and she answered with potato-water hands.
“Hello,” she said. “Paloma Stuart speaking, how may I help you?”
“Ah, yes, Paloma, Dear, how are you? My apologies for calling you again so soon,” she heard Kristof Sage say as the kids came careening into the house, slamming the door and rushing down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
What did he want now, and what were they up to?
She bent to grab the peeler from the floor, tossing it in the sink to wash later, and rinsed her hands as she spoke.
“How can I help you, Mr. Sage?”
“Please, none of that formal Mr. Sage stuff, call me Kristof. Everyone else does,” the man’s disembodied voice replied.
It was a voice that had always irritated her, reminiscent of that stinging burn to your eyes when you accidentally get pepper juice in them, or the sound the disposal makes when a spoon caught in it. It wasn’t quite as high as Mark’s, but was markedly haughtier, richer, and infinitely more brisk and abrupt when he wanted something done his way.
Then again, if he was trying to smooth-talk you, the high pitch went down about half a notch and he was forcefully languid-sounding, like now.
She could just imagine Kristof standing there, his long dishwater blonde hair pressed and pulled into a tight ponytail, his aquiline nose and prominent jaw taking up much of the space within his narrow, weasely face. The little almond eyes that reminded her of avocado, in their coloring.
“Well, how can I help you,” she asked him again as she walked briskly down the hall to check on the children, Confetti following along on her heels. “I had a thing or two to discuss with you, as well, so maybe we can get both accomplished within the same conversation.”
“I actually just wanted to thank you for extending your hospitality. I appreciate being able to stay in the homes of the designers I meet with in order to gain a more… rounded sense of what they do and who they are. I just wanted to assure you that I will do my best to remain out of the way as much as I am able. So I will have dinners on my own. You need only provide breakfast and lunch, and your attention in our meetings,” the man said.
Meetings, plural?
And what was this about her inviting him and providing meals for him for all that time?
That hadn’t been the way their earlier conversation had gone at all!
“Do you have any idea how many… meetings you wish to have with us, and how many days of your time in Portland you will be with us, as opposed to say, Evan and Vanessa,” she asked, peering into her bedroom to find all three of her children sprawled across her freshly-laundered bedspread eating chocolate.
“Out,” she told them, causing them to startle. “No chocolate in here. You know better than that. Put it away, and go into the living room,” she said, wishing that Kristof Sage hadn’t been privy to the conversation.
“But, Mama,” Chosen began to argue, kicking his dirty shoes against the bed before finally standing, followed a bit more politely by Duncan and Cherish.
“No buts, no ands, no ifs, mister. Go. I’m on the phone, if you hadn’t noticed, and chocolate and dirty shoes don’t belong on clean bedspreads,” she told them, pointing, her eyes welling with tears.
“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Sage. I didn’t mean to interrupt your reply,” she said following the trio who, heads down, reminded her of movies where people were walking toward a gallows.
It couldn’t really be that bad, could it?
“I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, that I’ll stay the whole eight nights with you and your… er, delightful, I’m sure, in everyday life, family. I hope, Mrs. Stuart, they don’t act like rapscallions when I’m around, or I will be hard pressed to get through our necessary meetings. And if you are to win any of those awards you’ve been nominated for – your company, that is, not you, personally – then we must persevere. As you know, I’m on the board, and often cast the deciding vote of who…. How shall I say this a better way, Mrs. Stuart,” he said, clearing his throat.
“If I still don’t like you, or the meetings don’t happen due to distraction, then I will be forced to vote for other, more deserving businesses worthy of attention. Nothing personal… just the way it has to be,” he continued, his words trotting along one after the other, reminding her of the way a horse gallops when it’s just beginning to run good and hard.
“I understand perfectly what you mean, Mr. Sage. And I appreciate the clarification.”
Nothing personal, she thought. How is coming to invade my home nothing personal?
“Kristof, please,” he said again as she bent to pick up Confetti and head back toward the kitchen. “And I will call with details when I know which plane I will arrive on. I usually try to arrive between two and five in the morning, to keep people from missing their daily scheduled tasks.”
Was this man serious?
“We’ll make sure someone is there to meet you, then,” she replied again, setting the cat back down and washing her hands.
“And I thought it was clear, my Dear, that you, personally, were to meet me. And,” he said, clearing his throat again, causing her to gag, “no need to bring that troupe of yours. I’m sure I’ll wish to sleep for several hours once I arrive, and anything noisy keeps me from it.”
Paloma thought of the chickens and smiled.
Like it or not, he was in for a big surprise.
Too bad he reminded her of a weasel. Weasels and chickens were never a good match. She just hoped she, Mariana, and their staff weren’t the chickens he had in mind to slaughter with his charm.
“Just call me with the details,” she said again. “And have a good day.”
“Who was that,” Duncan asked her as soon as she’d hung up. “Your face looks pinched like a lobster was comin’ after ya.”
“Well, Duncan,” she said, trying to laugh off her anxiety. “That was a man who will be coming to
stay with us for a while soon. He is important in the world of fashion that Mama works in,” she continued, sitting down heavily at the table, resuming her potato peeling. “And he’s not someone who Mama gets along with very well, either, I’m afraid.”
The kids, still consuming the chocolate they were supposed to put away, came in and sat near her. “I thought you were obeying like the good kids I know you really are,” she said, sighing.
The trio looked back and forth between themselves before anyone answered.
“Well,” Chosen said, shrugging, “we were more than halfway done already when you said it, so we just figured… if we finished it then you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“Aha…,” she said. “Of course you did,” she said, a thought suddenly startling her. She jumped.
How could she have forgotten?
“What is it, Mama,” Cherish asked taking another bite of her Hershey bar.
“Oh, it’s nothing for you kids concern yourselves over. I just….”
How could she explain to them what she couldn’t even explain to herself? She didn’t have the words to settle her own mind, let alone soothe any worries in theirs right now. She shrugged her shoulders, and they looked at her, mouths agape.
Why were they looking at her like that,?
“I just…”
She shook her head and smiled, a deep sadness suddenly overwhelming her.
She stood, gathered her things, and without another word, put them back where they belonged. She gave the boys an errand to run, spoke with Cherish a few moments once they’d gone away confused and grumbling, and then began to climb the stairs.
Dinner could wait… it would have to, whether she liked it or not.
As she ascended the stairs, she wondered once more how she could have forgotten something so vital.
Was it still there?
And what had prompted her to even think of it now that she’d finally accepted the inevitable visit from Kristof?
Thirty Seven
Edward pulled into the driveway, exhausted but thankful to be home. With the breakthroughs he and Jason had made that day, he was glad, also, to have someone with whom to share his joy.
Usually, in the course of the day, he called Paloma with the good news of more details related to their own private investigation.
How so much of it overlapped with work amazed him, and he thanked God for the skills Jason and Mark had taught him that long-ago day when he’d first watched a computer screen blip to life. He was thankful for Justice’s help with a new identity, even though he never had to change his name. He was thankful that Paloma had believed his story – his reality - was true, and that, in time, the handful of others who knew had come to believe, also.
If they hadn’t, he wouldn’t be where he was today.
And ,quite possibly, he wouldn’t even be alive.
For it was their belief that had brought about the changes needed for him to receive medical care he otherwise would have gone without; it was their belief that had forged friendships, and a marriage, and a family.
Swiftly stepping out of the car, he grabbed his backpack and made sure he still had his wallet. Then, he locked and hip-shut the door before heading inside.
Maybe, if dinner wasn’t already prepared, he’d suggest going for a pizza. If there was enough time… he’d run and get it, himself.
“Hey, everyone,” he called, setting the backpack on the closest dining room chair.
The room was empty, and he smelled no food.
“Hello?”
Footsteps scrambled toward him, and he opened his arms wide for Cherish, giving her a big bear hug. “Where is everyone?”
“Well,” she said, averting her face from him. “They’re…”
She pulled back a moment and then hid inside his embrace a moment more before letting go.
“What’s wrong,” he asked, suddenly panicked.
“Sorry, Papa, I was told not to tell, but… it’s okay. They should be back soon. They didn’t walk very far.”
“Walk?”
Since when did the boys ever want to go for walks anymore?
“Well, Mama’s upstairs. The boys, they walked over to…”
“Your mother’s here?”
The little girl shook her head, causing the cascade of red curls –shades darker now than her mother or brothers’ – to swing and bounce and dance in the hall light. Curls looser, but never as tame, somehow, as Paloma’s, either.
“Paloma,” he called, moving toward the stairs.
As far as he knew, she hadn’t been up there since they’d gone through her parents’ and Miss Isabella’s things.
“How long has she been up there,” he asked his daughter when there was still no reply.
Cherish shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. I just know one minute, she’s peelin’ potatoes, then she’s sendin’ the boys off to… I can’t say… and she went upstairs and said to come get her when you got home.”
Is that so, he thought.
“So dinner isn’t made?”
“I don’t know. Don’t think so,” his daughter said, moving toward the living room.
Since when did Paloma not have dinner ready and waiting when he came home? That wasn’t like her at all….
The last time it had occurred was when she was pregnant with-
He glanced toward his daughter again.
No.
She couldn’t be.
There was no way, was there?
Weren’t they getting a bit… old for new children? And if she really was, then what were they going to do?
Panic rushed through his veins like quicksilver and he sensed the blood rushing just as hurriedly to his face. They needed to talk, and soon. He needed to know what was happening, and why. He needed assurance that if she was, indeed, pregnant, that they could still manage as a family.
He quickly pulled the phone from his pocket, called in delivery from Papa John’s and treaded up the stairs.
Whatever was going on, he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. Because what if it wasn’t a baby at all?
What if it was something even more frightening and unknown?
He wanted to give her good news, be happy together, and celebrate. He wanted to celebrate with their children, too, even if they had no idea what it was about. He wanted to dance barefoot in the living room at midnight and kiss Paloma until she was breathless. And he wanted to know what had upset her enough to ascend to the second floor.
It was more his domain than hers, though she knew she could spend time there whenever she felt like it. She just rarely ever did, but to dust or otherwise clean.
“Paloma,” he called again, more softly this time.
“Up here,” he finally heard her respond.
Her voice came from the second stairway, leading to the attic.
What on…?
“Papa, the boys are back, and the pizza man is here,” Edward heard as he took Paloma’s hand to help her down the attic steps.
“We’re coming,” he shouted down in reply to Cherish, making sure he didn’t drop the book he carried underneath his left arm.
Paloma hadn’t said exactly what the book contained, but he hoped that, later on, when they had more time to talk, she could explain her bizarre behavior. Whatever had possessed her to scour the attic for a single book… a book with no title?
It must be a journal of some kind, though he hadn’t gotten to really look at it. He had merely helped her look for the green and purple book she was rummaging for when he found her.
“There’s only one like it. You’ll know it when you see it, I’m sure,” she’d told him without as much as raising her head in greeting. “I just have to find it. I have to.”
“But what makes it so special; so important today? It isn’t something that can wait until later on, when I can come find it for you? Keep you out of the dust?”
“I just have to find it. I have to show you,” she’d said again, finally looking a
t him. “I think it’s in one of the boxes marked Jesse.”
Jesse.
The little brother she never got to know.
Jesse was the only clue to this madness, and it intrigued him.
“Papa,” Cherish called again. “The man’s waiting.”
“We’ll be there in just a minute,” he said, a handful of stairs left to go. He let go of his wife’s hand and quickly went to pay the deliveryman – tall, skinny, bearded, and silver-braced– before instructing Duncan to take the pizzas into the kitchen as he said goodbye and thanks.
With a sigh, he made sure the door was shut, the cat was still inside, and then, he carefully set the book Paloma had been searching for down on the arm of the couch. He quickly washed up once the kids were through, and settled in at the table with his family.
“You ordered pizza?”
“I did,” he told her, smiling. “I was almost glad you didn’t have dinner ready. I’ve got news to share with you today and wanted to celebrate. Pizza sounded good”
“I’ve got news for you, too,” his wife said as she divvied out two slices to each of the kids.
Edward reached for a plate and grabbed three, drawing a smattering of “no fairs” from the kids, who he quickly hushed. Paloma followed suit and smiled.
“I said, I’ve got news for you, too,” she told him again. “But… I think it can wait until we have time alone.”
“But, Mama, you said-”
“Hush now, Duncan. It’s time to pray,” she told him, laughing.
Their prayers were offered succinctly and Duncan began to complain again.
“But, Mama, you said-”
“I know what I said, but I’ve changed my mind,” Paloma told him as she raised a hot slice of John’s Favorite to her lips and blew on it.
Edward watched in fascination as she took her first exquisite bite.
How he loved watching her first bite… the way her lips curled up in delight at something she found wonderful, or turned down if she found it displeasing. Was she even aware of it?
“What,” she asked him, frowning a little.
“Nothing,’ he told her, grinning her way.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 21
