Once the kids were settled into bed for the night, Edward pulled his wife into his arms and led her down the hallway toward their bedroom. The green and purple book she had searched more than an hour for earlier in the evening was clutched at her side.
“Hey,” he told her with a smile as he slip his loafers off and sat down beside her on the bed. “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”
“Are you sure you want to know,” she asked him. “Why don’t you go first, since you said there was good news, huh?”
She set the book down between them, but kept a hand on it, her fingers caressing the pages in a way that made him shiver.
He could imagine her fingers in his hair, and shoved the image away in order to focus.
“We found something else out about the mirror. How God keeps putting little tidbits in our path, I don’t know, but I’m glad for it. We hadn’t had anything very solid in months… close to a year, really.”
“You mean…?”
“We did. Jason found it, really, but yeah. Another clue, and this is a big one, Paloma. It’s as big as Rose coming through and being able to give us details; as big as finding the link to Arthur Reynolds’ trial and Rosemary Jenkins’ appearance. And I really don’t even know how to put it into words. It has to do with….”
How could he say this so she would understand?
Paloma turned her full attention to him, finally leaving the book alone. She folded her hands in her lap and locked eyes with him. “With what?”
“Do you remember we were looking into something to do with the Red Sox… there was a particular year our client wanted to look into, only a year off from the one Rose made a comment about that really got me thinking. So, in honesty, we’ve been delving into both years’ teams. The players that hung around for both, especially.”
“Okay…”
“I’m not going about this right,” he said, absentmindedly loosening up his tie. “How do I put this?”
He thought for a few moments, trying words on for size before he spoke again.
“One of the baseball players Rose’s brother got into an argument with was on both years’ teams; the other one, only for the year 1945.”
“Alright,” she said, her eyebrows furrowing together. “Go on….”
“There never was anything to it, and I don’t know how it took so long for us to figure it out. We’re smart, right? We’re resourceful; we know how to research beyond most others in the area of history. It was simple, but just out of our reach… until today. We were missing one card – one fact – from the hand we’d been dealt and now that we’ve drawn it, as it were, there’s nothing to it.”
“Okay, you’ve lost me. You’re no gambler and you’re using all these metaphors that-“
He cut her off with a kiss.
“I’m using them because we learned that poker was a factor in what happened between Steven Wishart-Laurent, Pinky Woods, and Skeeter Newsome. There was an old diary of one of Newsome’s neighbors. It said the three, and a few others, that neighbor included, got together for poker twice, sometimes three times a month for over a year. The last entry mentioning it was three days before the beef the men had at the Wishart-Laurent apartment.”
“Alright, so what does poker have to do with-?”
“Steven bet the mirror in that last poker game and lost it. Then the guy that won it re-bet it, sight unseen, and lost it again to the neighbor. And later on, it says the neighbor sold it to…”
How could he even say it? The neighbor didn’t know what he’d had, selling the mirror for five hundred and twenty dollars; the amount they agreed it was worth for the game prior.
“Who, Edward? Who bought the mirror,” she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“George Rowland Woods; Pinky, himself! So when he and Skeeter went to retrieve the mirror from Steven and Shannen’s apartment, the Wishart-Laurents weren’t expecting them. They were expecting…”
“The neighbor?”
“Exactly.”
“But… I still don’t understand. I don’t know anything about this player, but if he was in Boston…”
“He died in Los Angeles, though, Paloma. Pinky Woods is the connection linking the people in Boston with the ones in Oceanside. Now, I don’t know how it got from Los Angeles to Oceanside, but they sure are a lot closer together than… from Boston straight to Oceanside. And there it was, all these years, a clue just waiting for us to find it.”
“But how did you even know about the neighbor,” Paloma asked him, a whisper now, her eyes wide and even more puzzled-looking.
“Because our client is the neighbor’s grandson. He handed the diaries of his grandparents right over to us last week when we learned the connection.”
“So, all this time… all these weeks, you could have already had this information and instead…”
“Instead, God let us learn to be patient. And now, we’re celebrating. This isn’t the whole story, but it’s huge. It’s as important as Rose’s Gram-papa’s link. It’s as important as learning about where that weird friend of Evan’s bought it from before moving to Portland.”
Paloma’s eyes widened.
“Um… speaking of Evan. Now, I think it’s about time for my news,” she began, pulling his tie the rest of the way off; unbuttoning his shirt and sliding a hand underneath to smooth across his chest.
A frisson wound its way through him, and he smiled.
“Alright,” he finally replied, beginning to feel a little lightheaded. “The floor is yours, Mon Ange.”
“We got an unexpected call today at Amethyst & Alabaster,” she began. “And the news was mixed. So, really, there’s room for celebrating as well as wondering what on earth God is doing with the future of our business.”
Now it was his turn to be confused.
“Have I ever told you about a man named Kristof Sage,” she asked him. “A man in the design industry, mostly accessories, the son of none other than Yasmeen Sage, the Twiggy waif woman?”
“The Twiggy what what?”
“I take it I never mentioned him.”
“The name rings a bell, but no… I’ve heard of his mother, but…”
“Amethyst & Alabaster has been nominated for three awards this year.”
“That’s wonderful, but…”
“Kristof Sage is on the committee, he hates me with a passion – the reason of which I know not and never have – and he’s coming to stay with us in less than two weeks in order to do a set of meetings with Mariana and I.”
Edward pulled away from her as if the words scalded him with the penetration to his ears. What did she mean, the man hated her and was staying with them?
“There was no choice but to agree, or forfeit the possibility of winning. And while winning isn’t the biggest thing in the world, or the most important, the respect it would bring to us…” There were tears in her eyes.
“What’s this about him hating you, though? You’ve met the man?”
“Just twice… it was twice enough.”
He heard Confetti begin to mewl and reowwl at the door, beginning to scratch.
Not now, dear Lord. Why does she scratch now?
He quickly let the cat inside as he continued to listen.
“The first time, it was in the Shoe Shoppe; the second was at the graveyard.”
“The graveyard? What… what would he have been doing at-?”
“To this day, I have no idea. But it took me all of five seconds into meeting him at Ethan’s insistence to know that he didn’t like me. I know he isn’t fond of heavier people, but I’ve seen him put up with a few. I know he doesn’t necessarily like people who are Jewish, or Christian. I was surprised he even wanted anything to do with Ethan, considering, but-”
“Considering? Oh, you mean-?”
“Yeah, the Jewish thing, not that it should be a big deal. So he and Vanessa are Jewish. That’s nothing to dislike someone over, just as being Christian or Mormon or Muslim or anything else is. You
can disagree with someone without being hostile toward them, right? I mean… look at your barber; look at Malik and his family. They’re part of your life and you don’t necessarily agree with them on everything, but it doesn’t mean you don’t care, does it?”
“Of course not… but,” He glanced down at the book that still sat between then and picked it up slowly, gently. “But what about the book,” he asked in a near-whisper. “Is this even connected to all this stuff with whatshisname Sage?”
“Kristof. He’ll tell you right off, everyone simply calls him Kristof. He hates his mother and doesn’t want the reminder that they’re kin, even though she basically handed him his education, his first eight years of training in the field. Yasmeen was everything to him until he was twenty-six, and then… nobody knows what happened between them, they just never spoke another word until she was on her deathbed last year. Then, she miraculously recovers after he comes to her aid, thin as a rail and spouting how thin is the only way to go – it had always been her message to begin with – and he stepped back out of her life, like that.”
“Ah,” he said, more confused than ever.
“And yes, it has to do with the book.”
“Okay…”
“The grave he was at was for another little boy… another little boy named Jesse. I don’t recall the last name, but I could find it. I think I sort of… need to.”
“Then we will. This weekend, I promise. We’ll take the kids to visit your parents and Jesse, and we’ll look for….”
“Thank you.”
He kissed her. “And now, my Love, I think it’s time for Bible study, because I, for one, have a long day ahead, and feel like I could hit the floor, I’m so tired.”
She laughed a moment.
“Fair enough.”
Thirty Eight
Seal Beach, California… August 3, 2020
The summer sun beat down on Romeo as he made his way toward the car, his thoughts on his wife and son.
He’d let his haircuts go to the wayside, and his shaving, for far too long now. It was time to remedy that, and feel like his old self again before heading home to spend time with his family.
He opened the door and got into the car, whistling the lullaby he’d sung their precious little Angus Malachi Ferguson each night from the time they were able to bring him home from the hospital in Huntington Beach.
He smiled a little, turning on the engine and pulling out of the parking lot as he remembered poor Calico, waiting for a table at Cap’n Jack’s, going into hard labor, her water breaking right there on the sidewalk outside. In addition, their errands were diverted, as well as lunch, as they rushed to check her in. By five o’clock, he was cutting the cord and the doctor was congratulating them.
A few blocks into his drive, he pulled up to the barber’s shop.
This was, ironically, the same barber he’d insisted on bringing their client to, since he knew the man was good at his craft.
He made his way inside and discovered there were three people ahead of him. “Hey, Frankie,” he called, making his presence known. “Still gonna have time for mine, with the line?”
“Not a prob’em, man,” Frankie said, his stormy grey eyes meeting Romeo’s in the mirror while he continued shaving another man .
Frankie Romero had cut his hair as a child, and still cut it, now that he’d moved back home. A man of short stature and big heart, Frankie was someone Romeo had looked up to from the first day his father had brought him into the shop.
He’d been nine years old.
Romeo found a seat in one of the green plastic chairs near the television, which Frankie kept turned on low for company and continued reminiscing about his father, Joel.
He’d been a good Dad, and Romeo prayed he would do as well with his own son, Angus. Would Frankie still be around to tell jokes to his son? Would they even live in Seal Beach anymore for that to happen?
He didn’t know.
He picked up a magazine: the March 2019 issue of Time. In near silence, he flipped through it quickly, remembering the articles he’d read a dozen times since it had been printed. Setting it back down, he pondered his predicament.
Is there anything new here?
He picked up the whole stack of magazines, causing the bushy-bearded old man next to him to raise an equally bushy eyebrow. He tried to ignore the odd sensation that ran through him as he scanned the titles and dates.
Nothing.
He’d seen it all.
“Just seeing if there’s anything interesting to read,” he said to the man, who was still watching as he set the pile back down, making sure it was as uniform as it was when he’d picked it up.
“Come on back in half an hour, Romeo. I be ready for you then,” Frankie called as his other client got up to pay and leave.
Romeo watched a moment as the old man swept the chair, nodded, stood, and agreed.
“Guess I’ll run over to the store and be back in a few, then.”
“Hey, Sweetheart, you on your way home soon,” Calico asked Romeo when she answered the phone.
“Sure hope so. Waiting for Frankie so I can get a cut and a shave. But I’ll bring dinner on the way if you aren’t up for leftovers again,” he said as he walked the aisles of the supermarket. “Subway, or maybe some Chinese?”
He could hear Angus whimpering in the background and he smiled.
“Subway would be great. Maybe grab foot longs so we’ve got something for lunch tomorrow, too, if you could,” she answered as he grabbed some toilet paper and placed it in the cart. “If you grab two for each of us, we’d have something for dinner tomorrow, too, and just have foot longs both nights.”
Romeo turned onto the next aisle. “Sounds good, maybe I will. I’m famished; didn’t get to stop and break for lunch today. Just kind of snacked some.”
“Those vending machines are horrible,” she said as he grabbed some light bulbs. He checked his watch. Ten more minutes. “Hey, are you at the store? It doesn’t sound like Frankie’s, at all.”
“Yeah. I’ve got about ten more minutes before he said to be back. Thought I’d grab a few necessities for around the house,” he replied, praying she wouldn’t drop a shopping list on him at the last minute.
He headed for the frozen food section; glanced through the pizzas, and the burritos.
“Did you get any breakfast sausages,” she asked.
“No. Should I?”
“Yeah, and pepperoni and pretzels and pepper jack cheese?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Oh, and… never mind. That should do it,” she said as he sighed, maneuvering the cart to the breakfast section.
“You’re sure, now?”
“Well, we could use some other things, but… if you’ve only got ten minutes before Frankie-”
“Yep.”
“Then that’s it. I can get the rest next time I go shopping with Melody.”
He headed for the cheese and meat, quickly finding them. He grabbed three bags of pepperoni, knowing they’d run out quickly.
“Alright, then,” he told her. “I’ll stop for Subway right after I’m done at Frankie’s and see you in a little bit,” he told her as he went in search of the pretzels.
Since when did they eat pretzels? He couldn’t recall ever buying any. Once he and Calico hung up, he asked the nearest clerk.
“All out front; aisle six.”
Quickly careening his cart to the right, he made his way to aisle six, maneuvering around other shoppers and found the pretzels. Five varieties? What kind did she want?
Well, he thought, grabbing some plain ones. These are just going to have to do for now.
Calico rocked Angus against her shoulder, his little red cap of curls in complete disorder, his chubby little legs kicking gently in his sleep sack as the sounds of Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons played softly in the background. He gurgled a garbled message as she stood watching out the window, her stomach growling, grateful that Romeo would be home soon.
She took a few deep breaths as the track changed and began to pace through the living room, around the end of the couch, down the hall, and back again. It had become a familiar pattern, and she was thankful for its help in calming her son when he was upset or couldn’t sleep.
Soon, Angus began to whuffle in her ear, and she sighed in relief.
Finally, she thought. If he’s asleep, maybe he’ll stay asleep this time for a while, and we can all get some rest tonight. Maybe. I can hope, right, God? It’s been a long week…
She carefully moved toward the nursery, humming to the music.
Instead of turning on the light, she pushed the door open all the way with her foot in order to see clearly, and then went to sit in the rocking chair. She’d learned by trial and error that the rocking chair was a good interim step between asleep-ness and being laid down for the rest he needed.
A few moments later, she heard the jiggling of Romeo’s key in the lock, and braced herself. “Please don’t yell and wake him up,” she whispered to herself as he opened the door.
“I’m back,” she heard him calling gently. “And brought your dinner, too.”
Angus began to fuss, and Calico stood, praying the baby would stay asleep as she rock-walked carefully into the living room, where she could hear the rustling of bags being carried inside.
“Welcome home,” she said quietly. “He just fell a-”
She felt Angus move and kick.
Please, God, she prayed. Please. I need a break!
“Here, let me trade you; I can wait. I had a snack on the way back while I was in the car, just in case. I’ll trade you a roast beef on Italian white for one precious baby boy,” her husband told her, opening the Subway bag he still carried. He reached inside and browsed the contents, finally pulling out a sandwich with a red “RB” written on it.
Thankful, Calico let go of the baby with one hand to reach for the sandwich as Romeo handed it to her and then, with both hands, he took the baby from her arms. Angus began to cry as he took a seat on the couch.
Calico looked back and forth between the sandwich that was calling her stomach to the baby who’s cries were piercing her heart, and then up into Romeo’s eyes. “I’m torn,” she said quietly. “I’m so hungry, but…”
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 22
