Tressa's Treasures (The King's Jewel Book 1)

by Gordon, Belinda M

  I dumped the stale coffee into the sink then switched the cup to my right hand. My injured hand wasn't strong enough to lift the heavier coffee pot. Just as I tilted it to pour the hot brew, words popped unbidden into my mind: She can't sleep. She's getting up. It wasn't like hearing a voice; it was more like a thought mixed with absolute conviction.

  I gazed through the kitchen window towards the old fieldstone farmhouse, whose origins I had just been trying to interpret. A light popped on in one of the upper windows. I wondered if I would catch a glimpse of my pretty, redheaded neighbor, but all I saw were shadows moving across the window shade.

  Speaking of something off, there was something not quite right about her. I wasn't used to surprises. I usually had a general sense of things before they happened—at least the important things. This woman had surprised me twice today.

  I couldn't believe she jumped in front of that maniac at the store. The hulking man might have killed her, but instead, he meekly followed her instructions and left the store. It was all very odd.

  There was something ethereal about her, and yet at the same time, down-to-earth. Gorgeous, long red hair. Her delicate face and eyes that looked somehow wounded and wary. What had caused that pain?

  My coffee cup slipped from the grasp of my weaker hand, crashing off the corner of the counter and hitting the floor with a bang. It broke into pieces. I cursed quietly, mindful of my sleeping daughter.

  "That's what you get for obsessing over the pretty girl," I said out loud.

  Still, unable to resist, I glanced back out the window. But the farmhouse was dark now. I sighed, kneeling to pick up the pieces of the broken coffee cup.

  "Daddy?" Sophia stood in the doorway in her pink cotton nightgown and bare feet, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

  "What are you doing up, sweetie?" I asked as I threw the broken ceramic into the garbage bin.

  "I heard a noise."

  "Yeah, I'm sorry sweetie. Daddy accidentally dropped his coffee cup. Come on, let me put you back in bed."

  I hiked up my baby onto my hip. It was time we were both in bed.

  TRESSA

  The day's events spun around inside my head, keeping me awake.

  At first I refused to get out of bed, confident that eventually I would fall asleep. When I was still awake at three in the morning, I decided some fresh air might help. I threw on a pair of yoga pants and a thick wool sweater. I grabbed a woven throw blanket from a chair in my bedroom and headed outside.

  A warm front had rolled in after the day's storm, and the air felt more like spring in that early morning hour than it had during the day. The slim crescent moon gave off scant light to help me see my way across the lawn. I strolled carefully to my favorite spot by the lake.

  My destination was a glider nestled under a tree: part of a landscape grouping created by my grandmother years ago, designed not only to be aesthetically pleasing, but also to give a degree of privacy to anyone enjoying the sitting area.

  I often came to this spot to decompress and relax. When I reached it I draped the throw around my shoulders and lay down on the glider. Resting my head on one smooth, rounded sidearm, and curling a leg over the other. I let one foot dangle to push the glider, creating a relaxing rocking motion.

  As soon as I had settled there, my thoughts returned to the endless circle that had kept me awake. I suppose those thoughts should have surrounded the events in the store that afternoon.

  It wasn't often that I called Dominion over someone. Not because it was difficult to do—it wasn't. It was easy, as natural as breathing for a Sidhe. None-the-less, I believed it was wrong to trifle with people by overriding their free will with your own. In many cases it was prohibited. Consequently, I spent a great deal of effort suppressing what was, in fact, a natural behavior.

  However, I confess my thoughts weren't on that incident at all. I agreed with my grandmother's assessment and felt guilt free in doing what I had done.

  What my mind wouldn't stop running through was the evening's small dinner party. The real danger to my freedom wasn't the unusual thing I had done that day, but the thing I do every day: hiding my true self. I was certain that Alexander Mannus had the potential to become too curious about things he had seen and cause trouble for me.

  The night sky began to lighten as the sun came closer to breaking the horizon. When a fluttering sound came from the trunk of the old maple tree next to the glider, I sat up expectantly, pulling my feet up to rest on the edge on my seat. I wrapped my arms around my legs and hugged them to my chest.

  The Pixies tumbled out of a hole at the base of the tree. I heard their sweet, high-pitched giggles as the three of them rolled, tumbled and danced around each other. Their blatant display of abundant energy made me acutely aware of just how exhausted I was. I yawned.

  The sound of my yawn caught the attention of the tiny creatures, and their heads looked up at me almost simultaneously. They pushed off the ground in a jump-like fashion and fluttered their thin wispy wings to fly up to me, their voices jingling together calling, "Tressie, Tressie, Tressie!" in youthful exuberance.

  They hovered in front of my face, their wings flickering lightly.

  "Good morning, wee ones," I said, smiling.

  It was a rare soul who could be in the presence of a Pixie and not smile. They resemble human toddlers, and so invoke a similar affection on sight. However, they are only three or four inches tall and have wings attached at their shoulder blades, shaped not like butterfly wings, as often depicted, but like dragonfly wings.

  If their adorable looks weren't entertaining enough, they spent their time romping around the garden, dancing and playing. Two of the Pixies, Megan and Kerry, flew one to each side of my face and kissed my cheeks affectionately before returning to the ground to resume their play.

  Brenna, my particular favorite, twirled in front of me. Her flame red hair and feathery skirt swirled around her as she turned. I laughed at her when she stopped and dizzily tried to keep herself aloft.

  It was no wonder I came to this location when troubled, I mused. What a shame that people generally weren't able to see the Pixies. Although they were as solid and as real as any other creature, their appearance had a translucent quality that made them all but invisible to the human eye, their tiny voices inaudible.

  Brenna became serious, as serious as a Pixie can be with their childlike demeanor, as she fluttered over to sit on my shoulder.

  "Trouble, Tressie. Heard trouble in the wind."

  My thoughts sluggishly turn toward Alexander. My mind was finally as exhausted as my body.

  "Trouble, Precious Brenna?"

  "Handsome trouble."

  I chuckled at her characterization.

  "Handsome indeed." After a moment's reflection, I added, "I'm drawn to him in a way that's unfamiliar to me. It worries me."

  We sat for a minute in silence as I stared at the sunrise. Brenna repositioned herself to lie with her stomach along my shoulder, her head facing mine. She rested her chin in her hands, bent her knees, and crossed her legs at her ankles.

  "I should avoid him, of course, but what do I do with this pull he has on me?" I hid my face against my knees, knowing before I asked the question that I wouldn't like her answer.

  "Follow it, Tressie. Have some fun. Tressie, he could be...fun."

  I started at her innuendo. It was easy to forget that she wasn't a child. I thought about what she suggested: an affair, a tryst... was that what I wanted? Most Sidhe would bed the man without hesitation and think of it as an afternoon's entertainment, but most Sidhe didn't have the enemies I did.

  "He could destroy everything."

  "Silly. It was a little thing. He'll forget."

  "Maybe."

  I thought of his perceptive eyes and wasn't convinced, but I let the conversation end there. I had made up my mind to suppress my strange attraction and avoid him, because that was what needed to happen. There wasn't any reason to discuss it further.

  "Sleep now,
Tressie," Brenna whispered into my ear.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Pixie, calling my name and nudging my arm, roused me from a deep sleep. As I awakened, I realized that it couldn't be a Pixie. The hand on my arm, although small, was too big to be one of theirs.

  I fluttered my eyelids but wasn't quite ready to open them. Instead, I adjusted the blanket crumpled under my head and curled deeper into the glider.

  "Wake up! Come on, Tressa, wake up!" the small voice pleaded.

  I opened my eyes and found myself face to face with little Sophia Mannus. She shook my arm once more, her mouth set in a pout.

  "Good morning, Pretty Sophia," I said, biding my time until I could get my bearings.

  "Ha. Not morning—afternoon," said a masculine, familiar, and disapproving voice.

  I sat up slowly, twisting to place my feet on the ground. I pushed my arms up over my head and arched my back, stretching my muscles awake.

  It was indeed full daylight, though I didn't believe it was really past noon. More like ten o'clock, maybe ten-thirty. Brenna must have thrown some Pixie dust over me to help me sleep.

  I patted my lap and Sophia climbed up, sitting with her back to me as if it were an old habit. I hugged her around her waist.

  "What's wrong, Shamus? Don't you approve of my slovenly ways?"

  While I teased him, Brenna flew up and kissed him on the tip of his nose. Shamus crossed his eyes to look at her, and Sophia giggled.

  Brenna flew higher and sat on the top of his head.

  Shamus sucked his teeth in disapproval. I didn't know if he meant the derogatory noise for Brenna or me—perhaps it was for both of us.

  "I do not approve," he answered me. He shook his head with a quick jerk, causing Brenna to tumble from her perch. An inelegant noise escaped from my throat when I tried to suppress a burst of laughter.

  "Ms. Órlaith said we should go find you," Sophia told me as she swung her legs—signaling, I thought, that she was ready to get down and get moving. I released her and she slid off my lap.

  "She did? I wonder why," I said.

  What I really wondered was how Sophia had come to be here at all. Here with my grandmother, here with Shamus. Had she and her father moved into the guesthouse that quickly?

  Shamus interrupted my thoughts. "Mistress Holly called the house. She is distraught that you haven't contacted her. I gather she expected you at the store early this morning."

  "Damn."

  My playful mood vanished. I closed my eyes in dismay; I had told her I would come in early to clean up the store. Holly was a worrier, and after yesterday, it wouldn't take much to send her into a panic.

  "I better get going. Thanks, Shamus."

  "Hum," he grunted.

  Now that I was fully awake and he had dutifully delivered his message, Shamus turned to leave. I said goodbye to Sophia. She took hold of the grumpy butler's hand and walked with him toward the main house. I had to smile as I watched them go.

  When they were out of sight, Brenna called down to me from the tree where she was walking tightrope style across a twig.

  "Come back soon, Tressie?"

  "Sure I will." I gathered up my blanket. "Thanks for the sleep, Precious Brenna."

  She nodded absently as she concentrated on walking the edge of the twig. She held her arms out to keep her balance and carefully placed her left foot down directly in front of her right.

  When her foot was securely place, she looked up.

  "Bring your fiddle?"

  "I will."

  I threw her a kiss goodbye and rushed away.

  A quick look at my cell phone told me I had missed four calls from Holly. I sent her a text message telling her all was well and I would be there soon, though I knew she would worry until she actually saw me.

  After a quick shower, I dressed. Although I rarely wore pants into the store, I decided I would on that day. They were a better choice for cleaning, and I wouldn't need to worry about covering the nonexistent wound on my leg.

  In the midst of wrapping a string of amethyst around my neck, a thought struck me. I hadn't been wearing any gemstones when I went to the lake last night. So I hadn't been wearing any when Sophia and Shamus found me.

  Insignificant to Shamus, but with people now living at Pine Ridge, I had best start wearing some jewels at night. Oddly, Sophia hadn't seemed to notice the difference. I mulled the thought over as I rushed out of the house.

  The estate was several miles outside town. My store was in the town's small business district. I could ride the wind to get back and forth to the shop, but I drove my car to keep up appearances. Twenty minutes later, I parked in the public lot on Church Street, two blocks from the store.

  I enjoyed the feel of the spring air on my skin as I crossed the road, hurrying down Church Street. As I passed Saint Francis Church I bowed my head to the holy presence there, as was my custom. When I rounded the corner to walk up Fifth Avenue a breeze brushed past me, flicking strands of my hair back away from my face.

  Tressa's Treasures was on the other side of the street, nestled between The Apple Dumpling Café and JR's Bar and Grille.

  The storefront looked charming with its colonial door surround freshly painted a rich mahogany and the rich green, and a gold-lettered sign above. The sunlight touched the crystal displays in the window. It actually did make the store sparkle.

  I stepped onto the macadam and moved across the road even as I looked to my right to check for approaching cars. I was already halfway to the other side when I turned to look to the left. Suddenly, the sun blinded me. I couldn't see if any cars were coming, though I heard no engine approaching.

  Foolishly, I squinted and kept moving as I strained to see. Abruptly, the sound of screeching tires rapidly accelerating exploded from that direction. With a rush of adrenaline, I jumped the last two feet to the sidewalk to get out of the way. I whipped my head around to catch a glimpse of the vehicle as it sped past. For a mere second, Fred Moyer and I locked eyes. He smirked.

  Had he really been trying to hit me? It would take more than a bit of aloe to recover from that. I took several deep breaths to calm myself, watching his red Ford pickup round the corner at the end of the block. I felt profoundly grateful that sweet little Holly had finally gotten away from him.

  Dismissing him from my thoughts, I continued on my way to the store. When I reached the door, I heard an unexpected sound: laughter. Holly was laughing.

  Curious, I hurried in and stood in the doorway for a moment, appraising the scene before me.

  Things appeared much changed from last evening. Most of the broken china and glass had been cleared away. A large cardboard box lined with a green plastic garbage bag sat on the floor serving as a garbage pail for the debris.

  Holly, broom in hand, swept together the smaller pieces that lingered on the floor. Standing near her and getting ready to move what remained of the curio was Matt Johnson.

  Holly dropped the broom handle against the checkout counter and hurried over to hug me. I held her at arm’s length so I could take a good look at her.

  She looked her usual self. Her hair, perfectly styled, covered the stitches on her head. She wore a beautifully sculpted blue blouse over sleek black twill pants, no doubt purchased from one of the designer outlets nearby. Her makeup was flawless.

  No one would imagine, just by looking at her, that she had suffered an attack less than twenty-four hours ago. My surprise melted into understanding: this is how her relationship with Fred had gone on so long without those of us closest to her suspecting abuse.

  She spoke in a rush as I looked around.

  "I'm so sorry I bothered your grandmother, but when you didn't show up and you didn't answer your phone, I was sure something awful had happened."

  "Pix, you shouldn't worry so much. But I do apologize for oversleeping."

  I looked at Matt, who appeared much more comfortable in the plaid shirt and jeans he was wearing than he had in a suit and tie.

  "Mattie,
what a nice surprise."

  "Wow, no one's called me Mattie for years," he said, chuckling.

  "That's our Tressa—a nickname for everyone," Holly laughed. "I suggest you let it go. She's been calling me Pix for two years now. There's no stopping her."

  "Pix?" Matt looked at me quizzically.

  I shrugged. "She reminds me of a Pixie."

  "Like Tinkerbell, with the wings and the tiny dress? Yeah, I can see that."

  Holly slapped his arm in mock outrage while he pretended to cower, a wide grin on his face.

  I smiled but didn't respond. Actually, Holly's reddish- brown eyes reminded me of Brenna's, although Holly's were constantly on guard while Brenna's were full of mischief. Holly's petite and frail frame made her appear delicate and childlike—just like the Pixies.

  "So, what brings you here today?" I asked Matt.

  "Xander sent me. He had a class, so he told me my job this morning was to get this place back in shape."

  "How nice of him." Surprising of him.

  "Can you believe Matt and I went to the same high school?" Holly interrupted. "We were just talking about the old days."

  Her face lit up as she spoke. It had been a long time since I had seen Holly that animated.

  The chimes over the door jingled. Ida Krauss, a tall woman in her sixties with a rather square and hefty figure, came in carrying a bakery box. Ida was the owner of the Café next door and a legendary baker.

  "Good morning, Tressa. I saw you go by and thought I would bring you a treat."

  She gave Matt a curious once over and looked at me expectantly. I introduced the two as she placed the box on the checkout counter. Holly eagerly opened the lid.

  "Oh good! Shoofly pie," she said.

  I met her eyes and smiled. This was Holly's personal favorite. I was very fond of sweets, especially chocolate, but I’d never really liked this particular pie. It wouldn't do to let Ida know that, since she was so proud of her baking. Long ago, Ida had come to the idea that the Shoofly pie was my favorite too, and we chose not to correct her.