“Jacob, tell me. I won’t be mad. I promise.”
“He was going to the bathroom on our new studio.”
Savannah’s shoulders dropped, and she released a tight breath of relief. She suppressed her grin and controlled her voice. “Yes, that was wrong, but there are many people who don’t have homes. You didn’t say anything, did you?”
Jacob shook his head. “It was disgusting, but at least he didn’t pee on my side of the studio.” He went back inside to his workshop.
She shook her head slowly. Jacob had been a key contributor in her investigations. His razor-sharp observation skills had been useful in her detective adventures. That kind of attention to detail gave him the potential to grow into an amazing stained glass restoration expert.
Savannah walked out of the studio and over to the corner of the building that Jacob had pointed to. Sure enough, her nose and eyes were assaulted by direct evidence of recent urination. The scraggly bushes hugging the foundation provided enough cover to shelter a behavior she wanted to discourage. She turned at the sound of a motorcycle pulling into the gravel parking lot.
She walked over to stand by the lovingly restored Indian motorcycle and waited until the driver had removed his helmet. She held his face and kissed him and enjoyed the bright look in his eyes. “Did you bring scones?”
Edward Morris laughed. Laughter came easy these days. As his British fusion pub, Queen’s Head, had begun to gain traction as a Grand Central District favorite restaurant, he had become more relaxed and more confident in a financially secure future.
Savannah realized that Edward was becoming a significant part of her new life in St. Petersburg. He had been at her side through the puzzling and life-threatening investigation of her father’s murder, and he continued to support her efforts to fill her dad’s shoes as an influential leader in the community. She felt more and more certain that their close friendship was moving to another level.
“Hungry, as usual, I see.” He dismounted with a practiced grace and was a bare two inches taller than Savannah’s six feet. He unsnapped one of the leather-fringed saddlebags on his motorcycle and pulled out a brown paper bag, which he handed over. “Have you made coffee?”
“Not yet. I just got here. Amanda was a little nervous teaching her first class.”
Edward fastened his helmet to the cream and tan motorcycle. “She’s a natural teacher. She’ll be fine. What were you looking at over by the street?”
“I’ve got to have those bushes cleared away. Apparently, my warehouse is the local outdoor relief station.”
“Well, if you Americans would be more civic minded and would build more public toilets, it wouldn’t be a problem.”
Savannah punched him in the arm. “Not a solution. Try again.”
Edward jokingly held his arm. “Ouch! Have you been to the gym already this morning?”
“Not to the gym. I walked over to Crescent Lake for a boot camp exercise session this morning. I had to get there at five. That’s the only time it’s cool enough to work out with any intensity.”
Edward looked at the overgrown shrubs and patchy weeds in the parking lot. “This is untidy, but I don’t know anyone who could help. I don’t need a lawn service with my condo, and we have only potted plants at the pub. Nicole keeps them alive. I’ll ask her when she comes in for the evening shift if she can recommend someone. As a bartender, she knows and talks to everybody.”
Looking down at the thin gravel and the bare sand, Savannah chewed on her lower lip. “I’m going to have to make the outside a little more inviting if I want to increase the number of students that rent studio space. Not too much. It still needs to look a little grungy so it has some character.” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m rambling.”
They went inside and headed toward the kitchen on the left side at the far end of the studio. In its checkered past, the warehouse had once housed a catering business. So there was a fully functioning kitchen, although the appliances were ancient industrial makes. The countertops were stainless steel, and once they’d been cleaned, they looked as good as new.
Savannah put the brown bag on the wooden worktable in the center of the large room. She had found ten wooden chairs for it at the local thrift shop, and now it served as a great communal dining spot.
“When are you going to paint these chairs?” Edward asked.
“Probably this weekend.” She opened the top glass-fronted cabinet beside the deep stainless-steel sink and brought down two cups and took them over to the only new appliance in the kitchen, an espresso machine. “Wish me luck here. I’ve used this only a couple of times.”
Edward sat and lounged on one of the chairs and folded his arms behind his head. “This is quite a new experience. The only one who ever makes me coffee is Nicole.”
Savannah turned around to quip but instead smiled.
Coffee is vitally important to him, and he is vitally important to me. Don’t blow this.
She felt small beads of perspiration form on her forehead. “She does make good coffee.” Turning back to the countertop, she added, “My machine is a bit smaller than the monster you salvaged for the pub.”
“Which brand are you using? My local favorite is Kahwa.”
“And my favorite is the Colombian French roast from Mazzaro’s Italian Market. Hush and let me concentrate.” She carefully brewed two cups of espresso and added a generous dollop of steamed half-and-half to each. She finished them off with a deft shake of cocoa powder and placed the cups on the table.
Edward sipped his coffee, and his eyebrows rose over the rim of his cup. “Mmm. This is extremely good. I may have to reconsider my supplier.” He lowered his cup.
Savannah felt a flush of pride rise in her chest. The practice had paid off. “I’m glad.”
“Have any students signed up for studio space yet?”
“Yes, finally.” She opened the brown bag and took out a cranberry scone. “Two former students, Helen Carter and Arthur Young, from my first stained glass workshop back when I first arrived from Seattle. They’ve already paid their monthly fee. I’m expecting them sometime this morning.”
“How many students do you need to break even?”
“I need only eight, but I’ve got space for sixteen.” They walked out into the cavernous room. “I’ve got eight work spaces set up. Four of them are completely ready, using existing equipment I brought over from Webb’s. The remaining four need a little refurbishing work on the stuff I practically stole at an auction. I plan to add a few at a time until this space is completely filled. Then, if I clean up the loft, I could add even more.”
“When are you going to move Webb’s Glass Shop into this space?” They returned to sit at the table.
“I can’t do it. The building for Webb’s has been in my family since the nineteen twenties. It’s been the center of my life since forever and has provided a generous income for a number of decades. I won’t destroy the memories that live there. So the shop and the studio will remain two separate spaces.”
Edward scraped back his chair and stood. “How’s the huge commission piece for the big shot coming?”
“For the mayor? I’m struggling.” Savannah stood as well.
They walked into her workshop, which was adjacent to her office and next door to Jacob’s workshop.
“I’ve got it all laid out on these two large tables. I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to such a tight deadline for a monstrous five-panel installation.” The paper templates placed on the table tops outlined the intricate design, which incorporated grapevines and grapes draped along wooden trellis supports. The grape branches were heavily laden with wisteria blooms.
“When is it to be finished?”
“In about three weeks, but I need the final payment as quickly as possible, so I’m trying to finish it early. Luckily, the deposit covered all the materials.”
“You’ll get it done early, then. You always do what you say.”
Savannah smile
d. “My problem is overcommitting. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes? You mean every time.” Edward looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to the pub. The lunch crowd will soon be arriving. Thanks for the coffee.” He leaned over to kiss her good-bye and then walked out of the studio.
The rumbling of Edward’s Indian motorcycle rose and then faded, and Savannah stood in front of the commissioned pieces, enjoying the feeling of warmth he had left behind.
Her ex-boyfriend in Seattle had been controlling and demanding, and their breakup had shaken her confidence in recognizing a good relationship. She felt lucky to have Edward in her life. Now what am I going to do? I need to commit soon or let him know I’m not interested. It seems too soon after my breakup with my Seattle boyfriend, but it’s now been about six months. When Edward’s parents had visited him a few months ago, his mother had assumed they were in a relationship. Such an adorable pair. They made me feel like I have known them forever. I’d like to be part of a family again. Is it time to step up?
Shaking off those thoughts, she made herself another espresso and made her way over to her cozy little office. The office at the studio reflected her personality as much as the office at Webb’s Glass Shop was modeled after her father. A light-giving wall-to-ceiling window had dictated the placement her height-adjusting computer desk so that it faced the window so she could see the large monitor. The bright office also contained a stained glass worktable, which stood against the opposite wall, for her small jewelry projects. She had a comfortable modern desk chair and a tall work stool, which provided her the ability to shift easily from working on paperwork to working on glasswork and back again.
As she took a seat on her work stool, she jumped into her morning routine and started checking all the tasks that needed to be completed to keep both businesses running smoothly. Trudging through invoices, orders, collections, and payments didn’t take long, because she tackled this several times each day, determined not to mimic her father’s approach. She remembered how he detested the piles of paper, and as a result of this loathing, many opportunities had slipped through the cracks. He hadn’t minded the actual paperwork but had preferred giving his time to his students and working on complicated stained glass panels that no other glass shop could handle.
Her father’s death, along with that of his assistant, had brought Edward, Amanda, and Jacob together to help her find their killer. That had led to an investigation into a death at an art festival, and this had transformed their friendship into a tighter-than-family bond.
The tap, tap, tap of Suzy’s protective booties warned Savannah that Jacob was on his way to her office. He peeked around the door.
“Miss Savannah, I’m ready for you to check my work.”
Delighted to be distracted from her thoughts, she hopped up and followed Jacob into the large workshop. He stopped, standing barely inside the door, and lifted Suzy into a stiff embrace.
He’s nervous.
“Don’t worry. Your work is always perfect. But you are still learning, so that’s one reason why I want to check on your work. That way if there is anything to fix, it’s easier to catch it and correct it now, while the work is still in progress. The other important point is that all professionals need to get feedback from one of their peers. It’s so easy to overlook an obvious flaw in your own work. Now, let me take a look, Jacob.”
The restoration project had been brought to them in a five-gallon bucket by the owner of the penthouse in the Snell Arcade Building downtown. The glass pieces had provided Jacob weeks of satisfying effort as he reconstructed the original layout. He loved a good puzzle. The final panel was a traditional oblong, about seven feet long and three feet wide. It appeared to be about two hundred years old.
She ran her fingers along the cleaned pieces of glass and tried to detect which were new and which were older. It was difficult to tell. The teal color had been easy to match with a popular cathedral glass. The ruby pieces had presented a more difficult challenge.
“Well, Jacob, your idea of using the new ruby replacement pieces along the bottom edge and using the vintage glass in the main body of the panel has worked out beautifully. If I didn’t know about that approach, I wouldn’t be able to detect the slight color variation.”
Jacob nuzzled Suzy with his chin and smiled. “Good.”
Savannah stepped back and looked at the overall piece. “It’s beautiful. Our client is going to be so pleased. Start soldering it together.” She scratched Suzy behind the ears. “You’ll soon be helping me with the five-panel commission. Well done.”
She heard a car drive up on the gravel and went out through the main door. Helen, her former student, was opening the trunk to her silver car and was removing a large window–sized panel.
“Hi, Helen. Let me help you unload.”
“Thanks, Savannah. Could you grab the white canvas bag and the toolbox? I’m so excited to have my own space.”
Savannah grabbed the toolbox and slipped the canvas bag over her shoulder, making sure she had one hand free so she could open the door for Helen, who was stiff and was taking very measured steps as she carried her treasure to the studio.
After Helen had cleared the door, Savannah pointed toward the work spaces on the window side of the building. “There are eight work spaces, but only four of them have been completely furnished so far. So you get your pick of the first four. Sound good?”
Helen continued to walk very carefully as they made the thirty-foot journey to the first work space. She gently laid down her mounted panel on the worktable. “This is good. I’ll take this one.” She looked at the storage shelves, the small desk, and the full-size worktable. “This is perfect. Simple but comfortable.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you get settled.” Savannah placed the toolbox and the canvas bag on top of the desk. “Do you remember where everything is from your first visit?”
Smiling, Helen nodded and began to unload the contents of the canvas bag.
“Great! I’ll be in my office. Let me know if you need anything.”
Savannah returned to her office and sat down at her computer. She opened the new Web site she had begun creating for Webb’s Studio. It had an intro page and a contact page so far, and now she was trying to add a page to show the layout of each studio work space, but the hosting software wasn’t exactly user-friendly.
The ring of her cell phone startled her. She glanced at the phone’s screen and saw it was Amanda who was calling. She answered. “Hi there. Is anything wrong?” She looked at her watch, and it was nearly one o’clock.
Wow. Computer time is not in the same temporal plane as real time.
“Nothing’s wrong . . . exactly.” Amanda’s voice rose. “I thought you were going to look at those old bottles Martin brought in.”
“Oh yeah. I was planning on going to the shop after the class was over to take a look at them. What’s the rush?”
“Martin is pushing. I don’t think they should be fused.” Amanda began talking even faster than her normal mile a minute. “I wasn’t comfortable with putting them in the kiln, so I did some Internet searches, in case they are valuable. I used your dad’s computer. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, of course not. You’re the office manager now.”
“Well, even though it took forever to get some answers, because of the tragically slow bandwidth speed, it appears these bottles date from the early eighteen hundreds.” Amanda’s voice rose even higher. “Do you have any idea what it means?”
“No. I’m not—”
“No way can they go into the kiln.”
Chapter 3
Monday Afternoon
Savannah touched base with Jacob and Helen to make sure they didn’t have any design issues. A major selling point for the studio was that she would be available for consultation and guidance to glass artists. With time and a little training, Jacob would be a great resource for students, too. It set her apart from the other artists’ lofts in the area.
Then she grabbed her backpack and keys and rushed out to her car. She opened the door to the Mini and was met with a rush of stale heat. “Damn.” She hadn’t put the sun shield in the window, so her car was hotter than a glass furnace. She started the car, then grabbed a small towel from the passenger seat and threw it over the steering wheel. She cranked up the air-conditioning—full fan, with maximum cold—then opened both front doors.
It took a few long minutes for the scorching heat to drop to merely Africa hot, and then she drove the half dozen or so blocks to Webb’s Glass Shop. When she entered the shop through the back, Amanda was waiting for her by the large kiln in the supply room.
“At last. I want you to check out how I’ve loaded the kiln.”
“Sure.” Savannah bent over and looked down into the large fusing kiln and made a few minor adjustments to one of the recycled bottles that would flatten during the fusing cycle. “I’m adding a small block to prevent this one from rolling around. The spacing is important, but you also don’t want one of the bottles to roll into anything else in the kiln. That would destroy two pieces.” She stood up. “This looks good. You’re getting better at using the space efficiently.”
“Thanks.” Amanda closed the large, heavy lid with the help of a pulley-and-cable system attached to the ceiling. “Also, thanks for programming the kiln. I need to learn how to do it soon.”
“Let’s look at Martin’s bottles. I thought he was thinking of making them into cheese trays. Of course, that color would make beautiful trays. Where are they?”
“I left them in the classroom. After my bit of research, there was no way I was going to throw those bottles in the kiln. I asked Martin about it, and he didn’t seem to want them slumped, either. He left them for me to research. Pretty strange.”
Cracked to Death Page 3
