"Is everything okay? You're not working too hard, are you?" she asked.
"I have been working a lot and playing a lot too," she said, shifting her gaze to the floor.
"What does that mean?" Kiki asked. Suspicious, her thoughts immediately turned to James.
It didn’t take much probing from the Hawaiian to get the full story out of the girl. She listened with a raised eyebrow as Landi recounted the time she spent with Jim, both in and out of the apartment. Ireland took care not to reveal any secrets or pass on the information that he had never re-enlisted. She didn’t want to betray his confidence or hurt her new friend's feelings.
Kiki didn't know what Katrina's brother was up to, but she had to admire the speed at which he worked. She tried to keep an open mind regarding the man, but she had her doubts. She felt certain Kate knew nothing of her brother operating out of her home or pursuing her assistant.
"You say he's moved on to some job elsewhere?"
"That's what his note said. He doesn't know when he'll be back. The thing is, Kiki, I got used to having him around. I'm going to miss the company."
"Well, you'll just have to spend more time with me! I'm lonely too, with Noble back at the ranch."
Kiki smiled at the younger girl, trying to offer encouragement. She genuinely liked Ireland and hoped their friendship would continue to grow. She had time on her hands with her new long-distance relationship and didn't mind investing it in Landi.
Over the next week, Landi cleaned the apartment, worked on the next blog, and continued answering messages from the fans of Violet Sparks. People sent in photos of their jewelry and asked Violet to comment or identify the manufacturer or the type of stones present. She'd spent quite a bit of time identifying someone's 1950s bracelet made by the Har Company. She determined that its large, dark blue stones, called Dragon's Breath Glass for the red light that seemed to radiate from their centers, brought its worth to about eight hundred dollars.
Her personal email pinged each night around six with a message from James. He always started by asking her if she'd had a good meal that day. Then, he'd require her to share a secret. His messages made her day. She confessed a few things from her childhood, her dreams for the future, and her penchant for caramel.
He answered with tidbits of information about his time in Afghanistan, pranks he'd played on Katrina when they were kids that she still hadn't figured out, and how he broke out in uncontrolled cold sweats. By the following week, he'd begun calling her each night.
At first, he phoned when she was still at his sister's apartment, but by the next week, he began contacting her later in the evening, at home. Their conversations sometimes stretched for hours. She told him how she spent more time with Kiki and hoped to grow their friendship, an idea that made him a tad uncomfortable. He went on to explain how he'd been put on a long-term project with a big client.
"Where are you?" she asked one night.
"The East Coast," he lied.
"Jim, are we ever going to see each other again?"
"Maybe not."
She caught her breath and tried not to cry. The thought of him not being a part of her life hurt.
"But we can still be friends, right?" he asked.
She remained silent for a moment, his question hanging in the air, creating a heavy atmosphere.
Eventually, she answered, "Yes."
Unaware he'd been holding his breath for her response, James exhaled.
"Good, because I'd miss our talks. I feel I can share things with you, Landi, that I can't with anyone else."
Speaking with the girl did prove cathartic. He missed her more than he cared to admit and wondered how he could have gotten so attached to her when he should have maintained a professional distance. He'd gone about everything the wrong way, but even the guilt he felt each time he picked up the phone couldn't stop him from contacting her.
"Me too," she confessed without thinking.
"Well, I guess that's our secret for the night," he said.
Ireland continued putting together weekly blogs for Katrina from the files she'd left her. Keeping the place clean, paying bills, and depositing checks took almost no time. Without laundry or errands to run, she had a hard time filling an entire afternoon. She took to putting in extra hours at the Gemology Institute, working for one of her instructors, skipping lunch and going home early.
Often, she'd stop in Santa Monica and stroll the beach before returning to her apartment. She started allowing Sizzle inside on a regular basis, and he expressed his gratitude by depositing dead animals on her stoop most mornings. Sometimes, she'd find a mouse, and sometimes, a large insect. Occasionally, he left a bird, the sight of which always saddened Landi. As the alley cat became more tame, she determined to give him a bath, put a collar on him, and take him to a veterinarian.
James laughed when she described the scene in her bathroom with Sizzle. Before she'd managed to get him washed, he'd gone berserk, splashing suds all over the walls and ceiling and attempting to climb the shower curtain. Trying to attach a collar to his neck that sported a small bell in order to warn birds of his presence proved even more challenging. None too happy, the cat disappeared for a day. He returned with a peace offering, a dead praying mantis.
They continued exchanging secrets. Landi was too naïve to realize it was an easy way for James to extract information. Within a month, he'd learned what might take years in a normal relationship. Her trusting nature made it easy.
One night, when he asked for her daily secret, she'd said, "I don't think anyone has ever loved me."
James knew better, and it tormented him not to set her straight. He drew on all the self-control he could muster, fighting the urge to confess the facts to her. He barely managed to keep his thoughts to himself, replying, "I'm sure that can't be true, Ireland."
"My parents never even tried to adopt me. Once, in high school, I overheard them talking about it. I don't know how they came to have me, because I wasn't their foster child either."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes, James. People get paid for caring for foster kids. They never received any checks from child services, nor did any social worker ever visit us. Don't you think that's strange?"
"Did you ever ask them?"
"I tried a couple of times. When I was younger, they sent me to my room if I brought up the subject. By the time I was in high school, they said that my parents hadn't wanted me and that I was lucky they'd agreed to take me in."
"I doubt all that's true, Ireland."
"Whatever the truth is, Hatti refuses to discuss it now, and with her heart condition, I don't dare upset her."
"Did they take good care of you? While you were growing up, I mean?" he asked in as gentle a tone as he could muster. The thought of Hatti and Bill saying such things to Landi made him see red. The fact that he couldn't comfort her frustrated him to no end.
"As good as they were capable of. I know where you're going with this. I'm not sure their caring for me is the same as loving me. I never felt they had my best interests at heart."
As she poured out her heart, his began to break for the girl. He couldn't imagine anyone more loveable than Ireland, yet she felt unloved. What a mess.
She continued, "I'm only telling you this because we aren't going to see each other again. If I had to face you, I couldn't say such things."
"Landi, I want you to be able to share everything with me." The words escaped his mouth before he knew what he was saying.
She didn't know what to make of the sentiment. Was he just trying to be nice? To be a good friend? She went on as if she hadn't heard him and changed the subject, signing off soon thereafter.
When James called the next night, she didn't answer her phone. He continued ringing every fifteen minutes, finally giving up after one in the morning. Landi sat at her sewing machine, stitching away on a new dress, and tried to ignore the irritating buzz. Eventually, she curled up in bed, wrapping a pillow around her head to muffle th
e sound of the telephone. She cried herself to sleep.
She slept in late the following day. Things always look better in the morning, she told herself, throwing open her curtains. It was a phrase she often repeated, although she didn’t know where it came from. It certainly wasn't Hatti's mantra. Outside, it looked like a gorgeous Southern California weekend was in the works. The sun already shone and the sky appeared smog-free.
She'd decided on a clean break with James. That's why she didn't take his calls the night before. Katrina should be back from her honeymoon soon, and things would return to normal. Landi felt too dependent on her boss's brother, who obviously didn't return the feelings she held for him. After nearly two months, it was time to move on and stop mooning over the man.
She examined her handiwork from last night. She'd wrecked the hemline of her new dress with uneven stitches that didn't even form a straight line. She would need to start over, but after ripping the seam out, she realized she was not in the mood for sewing. She decided a change of scenery might do the trick.
Ireland splashed cold water on her eyes, still puffy from last night's cry. She slipped her favorite dress over her head, one purchased from a store with her first paycheck from Katrina, dabbed on some concealer to hide the dark circles that appeared under her eyes whenever she didn't get enough sleep, and headed out for an adventure. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror before leaving. She appeared gaunt.
The girl shook her head and determined to start eating more. James had been correct about that. Her pale, barely pink, tailored dress made her hair appear even redder than normal, her green eyes brighter, and her skin translucent. She grabbed a hair clip from the dresser and pinned her unruly locks in a bun behind her head, lending her a professional air. Cream pumps with a wide pink stripe across the toe and one-inch, clunky heels added to the business look of her outfit.
A change was definitely in order, she told herself as she headed for the Heller Museum. They had an exhibit of paintings by California artists on display. She glanced around the foyer as she waited in a long line for a ticket. She only spotted couples or families. She pondered whether she'd always be alone just as someone squeezed her shoulder.
"Ireland, I didn't know you'd be here today," Barry greeted the girl. "You look wonderful!" he exclaimed, giving her a once-over. "Come with me," he whispered, grabbing her hand and leading her to his office.
She'd met the director of Special Exhibits several times and often spoke to him on the phone. Sometimes, she dropped in with a proposal from Katrina or picked up something Barry wanted her boss to have.
"Have a seat while I dig out a pass for you," he said, rummaging through a drawer in his desk.
Landi sat down and smiled. Knowing Mr. Bronson had its perks. Plus, he was easy on the eyes and always pleasant to be around. His accent didn't hurt either.
"I didn't realize you worked Saturdays," she said.
"Oh, I often pop in to tie up loose ends or see that everything's running smoothly. No rest for the wicked, you know," he said with a grin and handed her a special year-long pass.
"What do you think of the California artists exhibit?" she asked, glancing down at her ticket.
"Why don't I show—"
"Oh, this is too generous, Barry," she interrupted, recognizing he'd just given her free admittance to the museum for the remainder of the year with a VIP pass.
"Twaddle, Ireland. Let's take a spin through the exhibit together, shall we? I'm all done here," he said, glancing around his office.
The director led Landi through the paintings, educating her on each artist and the history of their work. Her tour proved quite educational. After they'd dissected each piece, he insisted on treating her to lunch in the café. Even though a line existed at the restaurant, the maître d' ushered them to a corner table with no wait. Before long, their food arrived, a scrumptious lasagna for Ireland and gazpacho for Barry.
"You're really spoiling me today, Bernard," she said, lowering her eyes to examine her lunch.
"I think you are spoiling me. It's not every day someone wants to listen to me drone on about art. It's been a real treat for me, and I hope I didn’t bore you."
"Not at all. I don't know much about painting. I appreciate your spending the time to explain things. I can go on and on about rocks, crystals, and gemstones, but not much else."
"Katrina said you were taking classes at the Gemology Institute. That's impressive, Ireland."
The girl blushed. She wasn't used to hearing such compliments.
"Thank you. I grew up a rock hound, so it seemed the place for me."
"Maybe you can give me a tour over there, sometime. I'd like to see what you're learning. You know, we had a big exhibit of Russian jewels here not too long ago. That's what brought Katrina and me together," he said.
Ireland watched as Barry's face turned a pale shade of pink. She knew he'd briefly dated her boss before Kate and Robert got serious.
"I read about it. I wish I'd had the chance to see it, but that was before I moved to LA."
"What sounds good for dessert?" he asked, changing the subject.
After sharing a peach crumble with caramel ice cream, they finished their coffees. Barry asked her if she had any plans for the rest of the day, and she explained that she hoped to spend the afternoon away from home, that she needed a change of scenery. He suggested they hit up some shops in Century City and see a movie. A new spy flick came out recently, and he hadn't had a chance to go yet. Happy to have such pleasant company, Landi agreed, and the new friends spent the rest of the afternoon sauntering between high-end retail shops, giggling over the prices, and talking art before entering the theater. The film turned out to be a real thriller that kept Ireland on the edge of her seat. Afterwards, they grabbed some freshly made potato chips from an outdoor vendor and sat on a bench to people watch. She picked the parmesan crisps while he decided to risk the Cajun flavor. They sampled each other's choices, discussing the movie and relishing a rare night out.
It was ten p.m. by the time she picked up her car at the museum, said goodnight to Barry, and arrived home. The Heller had been a good choice. She'd managed to keep her mind off James . . . almost. The museum director helped, filling up any empty space with art facts, amusing anecdotes, or questions about her classes at the Institute.
Chapter 13
- An Unwanted Guest-
Landi marched from her car to her apartment, not wanting to be out alone late at night any longer than necessary. Vehicles filled all the spots directly in front of her building, so she had to park a few yards away. Fog had rolled in off the ocean, reducing visibility, and not another soul appeared on the street. The click of her heels on the sidewalk made the only sounds, announcing her arrival. She released a sigh of relief as her key slid in the lock and turned.
As she grasped the knob, rough hands grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. A scream caught in her throat and released as a squeak when her back crashed against the door.
"Where have you been?" James demanded, his fingers digging into her upper arms.
Landi's knees gave way with relief, and he had to hold her up to keep her from collapsing. She grabbed his elbows and tried to catch her breath.
"You scared me to death! What are you doing here, James?" she rasped.
"Making sure you're all right. You didn't answer your phone last night or today," he growled. "When I saw your car was missing, I went nuts. I didn't know what had happened to you!"
He didn’t mention that he'd checked the local hospitals and police department to see if anyone matching her description had been found. He'd also called Hatti and utilized his contacts in the DIA to try and locate her.
"I went out. That's what happened to me," she said. Landi released the beginning of a nervous giggle despite her anger, then put her hand to her mouth, creating a hiccup.
James was not amused.
"Where did you go?" He sounded like a judge in a military tribunal.
"None
of your business, James," she replied in a cool tone, reaching for the door.
He grabbed her wrist, forcing her to face him again.
"It is my business."
"How so?" she asked, a challenge in her voice and eyes.
Jim glared at the girl but said nothing. He'd never seen her like this—independent, defiant, even. It made him uncomfortable. He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, which heaved as he drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Used to his orders being followed, he didn't know how to handle this girl, this new version of his Landi.
"I thought as much," she added. Tilting her head to the right, she gave him a curt nod and opened her door.
"Wait!"
Ireland stood on the threshold of her apartment. She glanced over her shoulder, trying to decide if she should slam the door in his face or hear him out. Jim looked down. Her eyes followed to where Sizzle laced himself through James's ankles, finally plopping on his side over the man's left shoe, swatting the ground with his tail in rhythm to a beat no human could hear.
She laughed out loud. The sight of James nailed to the spot by her alley cat struck her as funny. Jim's shoulders bounced as he tried to stifle a chuckle, and one corner of his mouth quivered as he fought against smiling.
"Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked timidly, bending to scratch Sizzle behind the ears.
The cat purred. James looked up to see her response. She couldn't turn that face down. He appeared unsure of himself, but still hopeful.
"Be here at nine to take me to church," she said, retreating into her apartment.
Darn!
The last thing he wanted was another sermon from Mr. Hellfire and Brimstone. James watched the door close and picked up the cat, continuing to pet the animal. He had so many things to tell Landi, but he couldn't, not yet. He'd panicked when he failed to reach her. It wasn't like the girl to disappear for a day, and his mind ran wild with negative scenarios. Hopefully, he'd soon have the answers he needed, and he could put an end to this charade.
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