Yasmine Galenorn - Chintz 'n China 02

by Legend of the Jade Dragon

  I flicked his head with two fingers and pointed him toward the kitchen. “Haul ass in there, and I’ll make us something to eat.”

  As I broke eggs into a bowl and beat them lightly for an omelet, he told me that he’d called Eyrland’s Glass Works. “Apparently you’re such a good customer now that you rate a ten percent discount. Keep smashing windows, and pretty soon, you’ll get one free.”

  “Gee, thanks for the suggestion. Brilliant, dearheart, brilliant.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you agree; I am brilliant.”

  He looked so smug that I threw a dish towel at him. “Since you’re so smart, figure out how to wash and set the table while I make breakfast.”

  Laughing, he wiped off the oak tabletop and set it with place mats and napkins. “They’re delivering the glass sometime this morning, so after breakfast, I’ll hit Home Depot for the installation hardware. Want to come?”

  “Nah. I’ve got to pick up the kids and drop them off at school. And somebody has to be here for the delivery truck.” I handed him a plate of toast and eggs. As we ate, I filled him in on what Murray had told me about Jimbo.

  He wiped up the last of his egg and licked his fingers. “Sounds like a troublemaker to me. If they can catch him, they’ll probably offer him a plea bargain if he cops to vandalizing your store, too.” He tossed on his jacket and hit the road.

  As I was washing the dishes, the phone rang again. The kids were up and ready for school. Since Harlow was still wheelchair-bound, she couldn’t drive. As I told them I’d be out to pick them up as soon as I could, I realized that I couldn’t leave the house alone. I hated to impose on my neighbors, but I raced across the street to Horvald’s. He was out. I wondered briefly if there might be a Mrs. Ledbetter, but nobody answered the door.

  Who else could I get to look after the house while I was over at Harlow’s? Normally, I’d ask Ida. I glanced down at the comfortable house on the corner. Oliver? I didn’t like the thought, but I had no other choice. I darted down the street and rang the doorbell. Nobody answered, but the car Ida had rented for Oliver before she left was in the driveway, so I assumed that he was home. Maybe he was working in the basement. I hesitantly tried the door; it was unlocked. Music streamed in waves from the kitchen. Something classical, but I didn’t recognize it. The house smelled of Lysol and Lemon Pledge.

  “Oliver?” I called out, tentative, not wanting to interrupt, but nobody answered. I was about to leave when the state of the living room caught my attention. Spotless. Completely spotless. No dust, no clutter, no jumble anywhere; the plants were shining, and every leaf was clean. The pictures were level-straight, and all the windows were polished and gleaming. Ida was a champion housekeeper, but even she’d be impressed.

  Ida! I’d forgotten to call her back. Oh well, I thought, it would have to wait until later. I bit my lip as I looked around. Maybe he was in the kitchen? If I peeked, it wouldn’t really be snooping since I needed to ask him a favor. I cautiously pushed open the swinging doors and poked my head through. “Oliver?” No answer. I took another step forward, then another. Nobody here, either, but once again, the room was a marvel. The counters were clean, everything in its place with no dirty dishes in sight. I ran my finger along the porcelain sink. No grease, no mess. Nope. Downright unnatural.

  “Looking for something?”

  “Oh!” 1 whirled around to find myself staring into Oliver’s curiously cool eyes. His expression was unreadable; he was wearing work gloves and carrying a hammer. “I rang the bell, and you didn’t answer. I came over to ask a favor.” So maybe it hadn’t been such a bright idea to come in uninvited. Ida and I had the typical knock-and-enter arrangement common to small towns, but this was Oliver, and while she was gone, this was his house.

  “I was in the basement. What can I do for you?”

  The room suddenly felt too small, the door too far away. I edged toward it, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Stress, I thought, as I tugged on my collar. I was just feeling the effects of all the stress I’d been under lately. “I need to pick up the kids and drop them off at school, but Joe is out, and the glass company will be delivering the new pane sometime today. Would you mind staying at my place until I get back? To keep away any intruders and maybe sign for the glass if it arrives early?”

  He nodded; the eager beaver look was back. “No problem; I can help Joe install it. Can you wait ten minutes? I should finish up the last of this one project.” As he headed back to the basement, I took off for home.

  While I waited for him to arrive, I stood in front of the e”tagere, looking at the dragon. It occurred to me that not only was Harl a patron of the arts, but in her new research position, she probably had access to some obscure sources for historical information that I couldn’t access. I tucked the statue in my purse, hoping that she might be able to give me some ideas on how to go about tracking down Daniel’s relatives. I shrugged on a light jacket as Oliver knocked on the door.

  “I’ll be back in about an hour. Thanks so much,” I said as I clambered into the Cherokee and pulled out of the drive.

  The drive out to Harlow’s was long and winding, and I

  seldom took the shortcut since she’d been forced off the road a few days before Christmas, but today I was in a hurry. Yep, the ravine was filled with brambles and bad memories. Of course, one good memory, too. I’d met Joe that night.

  Joe. What to do about him? I couldn’t ignore the fact that I got along much better with him than with Andrew. As much as I cared about Andrew, I always felt like we were one step away from a disagreement. Joe … Joe was easy. Comfortable. But would the age difference create problems?

  Irritated, I shook thoughts of both men from my mind. Scrap it. After all, it wasn’t like I was planning on marrying either one of them. Andrew had made it clear he didn’t believe in marriage. Joe was far too young to become a surrogate father.

  The road wound through the ravine, hugging it like a snake. During winter, the ice and snow obscured the shoulder, and the lack of leaves gave a stark, black-and-white look to the area. Now that spring was here, leaf buds studded the bramble vines and trees, and the promise of summer to come hovered in the fresh smell of damp moss. Through my open window, the rush of the creek kept up a steady rhythm, the current swift and dangerous. Whitewater season, we called it. As the snow melted off the Cascades glaciers, the runoff channeled into the streams, bringing with it rapids and whitecaps that spewed mist high into the air. A sudden longing swept over me; if I could only stop and meander along the creek’s side, to sit by the water and let my stress roll away with the waves. The weekend camping trip sounded more and more appealing, the longer I thought about it.

  I turned onto the driveway that led to Harlow and James’s home. As I slipped out of the car and headed toward the sidewalk, there was a shout as Kip and Miranda tumbled out of the house. Harlow followed, easing her wheelchair onto the ramp that James had built for her. Her tummy was expanding, all right; her baby girl was going to be a whopper. Though Harl had managed to avoid a recurrence of anorexia, I had a sneaking suspicion that labor was going to be hard on her. She had such a narrow frame and no hips to speak of. What weight she’d gained during pregnancy so far had all gone to her tummy and boobs.

  I kissed the kids and leaned over to give Harl a hug. “Hey babe, how are you?” .The kids gave me quick pecks on the cheek before racing off to chase frogs. I dropped onto the bench near the front door.

  “Miserable. I want out of this chair as soon as possible. It’s driving me nuts to have to sit so still, and my back hurts!” Harl groaned and adjusted her position. I swung around behind her and began rubbing her shoulders. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Oh God, what I wouldn’t give for a cigarette.” Harlow had quit smoking in December when she decided to have the baby. She wasn’t handling it very well but surprised all of us by her determination.

  “You can do it, sweetie. Just think, by the end of next week you should be out of that chair
, right? And your little girl will be so much healthier if you stay away from the cigs. You’re going to make it just fine.”

  “Yeah.” She sniffed and hiccupped. “Thanks, Em. I don’t know how I’d have made it through the past few months without you cheering me on. If only James hadn’t had to make this trip, but I know he needed to go.” She lowered her voice. “I have a problem. Hannah has to leave.”

  “What’s up?” I rested on the bench next to her. Hannah, her mother-in-law, was a wonderful if overpowering woman.

  “Last night Hannah got a call from Helena, Montana.

  Her father died. She doesn’t want to tell James yet. If he comes back to the States now, he’ll blow this photo shoot, and once you screw up something this big, you don’t get a second chance. There’s nothing he could do anyway; the funeral will be long over by the time he could get back. But with Hannah gone, that means I’ll be alone for a few days.”

  “So she’s heading out today?”

  Harl glanced back at the house. “She’s pretty broken up; she and her father were really close because her mother died young. I feel so sorry for her. No matter how old you are, when a parent dies, it still hits you hard. I’ve called for a nurse attendant to help me, but she won’t be able to get here for a couple of days.”

  I didn’t like the thought of Harl being out here alone. “You could stay with me. I’ve got the guest room downstairs, and we still have the ramp Joe and Andrew built for me when I was on crutches a few months ago.”

  She considered the idea then shook her head. “I’ve got too much work to finish. Professor Abrams is a wuss, fretting all the time, but he’s really a dear.” She laughed. I knew she liked her new employer and he, in turn, adored her. It was hard for anybody to meet Harlow and not go gaga. She was one of those people that made every person she talked to feel special. “The Professor’s asked me to stay on after the baby’s born. I told him that I’ll have to slow down a bit, but he says he’s never had such an organized assistant before.”

  I snorted. “Sounds like you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, like you do every man. I’m glad you like the job, though.”

  She bobbed her head. “Oh, I do. In fact, James is bringing back a few artifacts that he found for the Professor to look at. They’re from some obscure tribe in northwestern Ethiopia. They may actually turn out to be ancient Egyptian.”

  “While we’re talking antiques, take a look at this.” I pulled out the dragon and showed it to her.

  She held the dragon gingerly. “So this is the little guy. Gorgeous.”

  “Hodges gave me a list of experts on art in the Ming dynasty.” I showed her the paper he’d written the names on. “Do you know any of these people?”

  She eyed them carefully, tapping her long fuchsia nails on the arm of her chair, then pointed to the last name on the list. “I know Mary Sanders. She’s smart, and she’s friendly. Why don’t you give her a call?”

  I took the paper back and folded it, putting it in my pocket. “Do you know where she lives? Obviously somewhere in Washington by the area code but—”

  Harl grinned. “Lucky you! She lives in Glacier. Didn’t you say you were headed out that way to go camping this weekend?”

  “Yeah. Glacier, huh? I could drive back to the town and talk to her on Saturday while Murray watches the kids at the cabin. I could take the dragon with me.”

  “I’ll give her a heads up to expect your call. She owes me a couple favors.”

  As interesting as the conversation was getting, I needed to skedaddle. “Okay, I’m taking off. The kids are late for school. Murray’s on Jimbo’s trail. Did I tell you his prints were on the brick that slammed through my window, and we think he might have been the one who trashed my shop? That’ll teach me to head-butt drunken rednecks.”

  Harlow shuddered. “I dunno, Em. You be careful. Something doesn’t feel right, and you’re the one who taught me to pay attention to my intuition.”

  I called the kids and we piled in the Cherokee. I dropped them off at their schools, making sure their teachers knew why they were late. Making it home just in time to greet the deliverymen with the new window, I tucked the dragon safely away, then joined Joe, who had just arrived, hardware in hand. He and Oliver got to work on the installation while I planned out the camping trip. After a little while, I made lemonade and sandwiches.

  Oliver and Joe were discussing various ways of caulking drafts. I cleared my throat. “Lunch is ready.”

  “Great!” Joe said. “We’re ready for a break.” They trooped into the house and washed their hands in the sink. I set the plate of sandwiches on the table.

  “Ladies first,” Oliver said. “So, any idea who broke the window?”

  “Some guy was bothering me the other night while I was out with a friend. They aren’t sure if he was the one who vandalized my shop, though.”

  He shrugged. “Most likely. If he went to the trouble of throwing a brick through your window, he’s probably also the one who robbed your store.”

  “Well, they aren’t sure, but no doubt you’re right. So, how are you getting on in Chiqetaw? Have you signed up for classes yet at WWU?”

  He swallowed his bite of sandwich and washed it down with a big swig of lemonade. “I called the registrar’s office and talked to them. The earliest I can get in is winter quarter, so I’ll get a job until then. I don’t want to live off Aunt Ida any more than necessary.”

  The back door opened, and Kip raced in, breathless. “I forgot my homework!” He eyed the sandwiches on the table. “Can I eat lunch here? Otherwise I won’t have time when I get back to school.”

  I told him to wash his hands and got him a plate and poured him a glass of milk. He slid onto the chair next to Oliver. “Hey, Mr. Hoffman! Hi Joe!” After he’d chomped into his sandwich and washed it down with the milk, he cleared his throat. “Mr. Hoffman, Sly says his mom called you a con. Were you really in prison?”

  My darling Kip silenced us all with his question, and I immediately turned as red as a lobster begging for melted butter. I hadn’t told the kids about Oliver yet, nor had I informed Joe. Oliver had a right to his privacy, and it wasn’t like he’d been locked up for anything violent. Joe shot me a questioning look.

  “Kip, that’s none of your business. I want you to apologize immediately.” I hushed Oliver as he started to speak.

  Kip’s lip quivered a little as he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “Okay, grab an apple, and get back to school before you’re late. When you get home this afternoon, go out to the shed and haul out the camping gear so it can air out. We don’t need the tent since we’ll be sleeping in a cabin, but we’ll bring it along just in case.”

  Joe cleared his throat noisily, but when I looked at him, he just stared blankly at his plate. I gave Kip a hug and, clutching his folder of homework, he took off out the door and grabbed his bike, pedaling as fast as he could.

  I glanced at Oliver, hoping he wasn’t too mad. “I’m so sorry. Kip didn’t intend to be rude; he’s at that age where his mouth works before his brain, and if he wants to know something, he’s used to asking. I encourage their curiosity, even though they don’t always get the answers they’re hoping for.”

  Oliver shrugged. “I figured it would come out. If this Sly kid knows, then I’d better expect that the rest of the town will know. Ida probably talked about me to people during the time I was locked up.”

  “Where are you from?” Joe asked. “Is Ida your only living family?”

  “Portland, Oregon, and yeah, my parents are both dead. Why do you want to know?” Oliver polished off the last of his sandwich and chips, then chugged his milk.

  Joe persisted. “Where were you incarcerated, and why?”

  He seemed determined to pick at the subject.

  I blushed. I might not be a gourmet chef, but I was, at least, a gracious hostess. “Back off, Joe. My kitchen isn’t an interrogation room.”

  Joe glared at me
; I knew he wanted to pursue the subject, but I shook my head, and he just shrugged. “Sony. Sometimes I guess I’m nosy, too.”

  Oliver shrugged. “Whatever. Aunt Ida offered me a place to stay so I can get my head together and get back on track.” He gathered up his dishes and carried them to the sink. “If we want to finish that window, we’d better get moving.”

  Joe gave him a nod and said, “I’ll be out in a minute.” After Oliver had excused himself to the porch, Joe thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “Something’s off there.”

  “Jealous?” I meant to tease him, but he scowled.

  “If I am jealous, it’s not of your new neighbor. No, Ida’s nephew is hiding something. When will she be back?”

  I glanced at the phone. “According to her message, another week or so. Desdemona is in a really bad way. Joe, she loves Oliver, so go easy. I think you just don’t like the idea of an ex-con living next door, but some people who are in prison don’t belong there, and not everybody with a criminal record is dangerous.”