“God, Phoebe, what have you been doing, watching our house with binoculars?”
“I also like the fact that he has a sports car and a boat and likes to treat you and me to dinner a lot. Face it—not every widow gets a second chance at love—and it’s a good idea for your mom to think of financial security.”
Ryan couldn’t help chuckling. “You sound like a commercial. And the money must be in his family because I know college professors don’t make that much.”
“A college professor,” Phoebe said dreamily. “He’s so intelligent, too.”
“Forget it, Phoebe, you’d make a terrible professor’s wife.” Ryan ducked her head as a cold blast of wind rushed at them along the sidewalk. “And anyway, he’s going to interview for a department chairman’s position at another university, so he might be moving away.”
“No! You didn’t tell me! When?”
“In a few days. Mom’s already starting to mope.”
“So if they do get married, maybe your mom’ll have a brand-new start in a brand-new place.” Phoebe looked pleased. “That’s good for her. Now we just have to worry about you.”
Ryan sighed. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You need a boyfriend,” Phoebe said stubbornly.
“I don’t want one.”
“Yes, you do, and especially now. Steve and your mom are a twosome. And … well … you’re not.”
Ryan felt arguments welling up inside her, but as Phoebe held her in a steady gaze, she sighed again and gave in.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because you need a guy! Ryan, you are the most giving, the most caring person in the whole world! Except to me, that is. It’s just that you and your mom both lost someone you love, and now your mom’s got Steve and you don’t have anyone. Life’s not fair, but that’s the way it is.” She nodded for emphasis, then cast Ryan a sly look. “I’m still in love with Steve, you understand, but I don’t think life’s fair.”
“Well, if life were fair, Marissa wouldn’t have died.” If life were fair, it would have been me who fell through the ice, not Marissa, and Mom would be happier and things would seem more normal and right.…
“If life were fair, I wouldn’t have Jinx. Little brothers would be against the law. Especially ones who are only a year younger.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “If life were fair, I’d be an only child. Or the trolls would have stolen him at birth.”
“So what’s Jinx done now?” Ryan asked, amused. Through all their growing-up years together, she couldn’t remember a time when Jinx hadn’t been a constant source of irritation to her friend.
“What’s he done?” Phoebe echoed. “He hasn’t done anything. He doesn’t have to do anything except exist. He doesn’t have to do anything except be his own obnoxious self. Isn’t mat bad enough?” She looked slightly incredulous. “Can you believe girls actually call him? He gets phone calls all the time at home. Carla Smith called—and she’s a senior! Girls think he’s cute! And”—she paused for effect—“I have my suspicions that he’s got his heart set on Tiffany Taylor! Seriously!”
Ryan chuckled. “You’re kidding—that little sophomore cheerleader who walks like this and giggles all the time? I thought she was interested in what’s-his-name—that nerdy guy in Jinx’s class—”
“That’s what I heard, too—the junior class vice president. Wow. Tiffany and Jinx—can you even imagine? Or that anyone in her right mind would think Jinx is cute!”
“Well …” Ryan said generously, “he can be kind of cute when he wants to be. With that baby face of his.”
“Yeah, when he thinks he’s in trouble, or when he wants something. You can have him. I’ll give him to you. For free! If life were really fair, you’d take him.”
“And if I had a dollar for every single time you’ve threatened to give him to me—”
“See?” Phoebe shot her an accusing look. “You don’t want him, either! If life were really fair, my parents would lock him up someplace and throw away the key. And … I’d have naturally curly hair.” She laughed, looking pleased with herself as Ryan regarded her in disbelief.
“You are so impossible! I’d give anything to have hair like yours. Look at this—brown hair, brown eyes—dull! If life were fair, I’d be blond. And I’d have a million dollars.”
“Well … you’re rich in friendship. You have me!”
“Oooh … bad.”
Phoebe laughed and started to hug her, then suddenly shook her arm. “Look over there—on that corner by the bus stop—isn’t that Winchester Stone?”
As Ryan followed Phoebe’s stare, she felt a strange flutter go through her chest, and she quickly ducked her head. “Yes, that’s him. Come on, don’t look, let’s just keep walking.”
“He is the most gorgeous guy I have ever seen—”
“Come on, Phoebe, quit looking at him. Just hurry up—”
“I mean it, Ryan, he is so sexy. And to think your sister actually went out with him.”
“You know she only did it so all her friends would be jealous. She used him. After a couple dates she lost interest.”
“Oh,” Phoebe moaned, “I wish he hadn’t graduated last year—maybe I’d have had a chance, now that we’re finally seniors.”
“From what I hear, he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Ryan said casually. “Why don’t you get Jinx to fix you up? He’s always down at the garage.”
“Oh, him and his creepy little friends—and Winchester’s teaching them all to work on cars—God!” Phoebe made a fist and beat on her forehead. “Working with Winchester practically every day! Can you imagine being that close to Winchester every day!”
Ryan toyed with the thought, then pushed it firmly away. “What does Jinx say about him?”
“Nothing. Nobody knows anything about Winchester. You never see him with friends … you never see him with girls—not that every female I’ve ever talked to wouldn’t sell her soul to go out with him! You have to admit he’s gorgeous. You have to have noticed—”
“Well, of course I’ve noticed. He used to come by for Marissa—how could I help but notice?”
“Ha! And I bet you were hiding, I bet you never even came down to talk to him in person!”
“Well”—Ryan shrugged, her voice defensive—“he did come to see Marissa, after all. He didn’t come to see me.”
“Oh, Ryan, it’s no wonder you never have a date. They’re all afraid they’ll give you a heart attack if they come near you!” Phoebe groaned in frustration. “Look at him. He has that shy look, but he’s always in those tight jeans—”
“Phoebe, honestly!” Ryan shook her head, then shot a hasty glance back at the figure on the corner. “He’s kind of a loner, I guess. Maybe he doesn’t like having friends.”
“Doesn’t he ever come around to see you? To talk to your mom or anything?”
“No, why should he? I told you Marissa didn’t care about him.”
Phoebe couldn’t resist looking back at the bus stop one more time. “Well, I still think it’s strange, that a guy that great looking should be alone so much.” She sighed, falling into step with Ryan once more. “I’d love to just talk to him. Just be alone with him and”—she shivered—“oh, I bet he’s a great kisser. And other things—”
“Phoebe, will you quit looking at him!” Ryan tugged on the other girl’s arm, and Phoebe immediately tripped over the curb. “You don’t want him noticing us, but you keep looking back at him. Just stop it and try to walk like a normal person!”
At some unspoken signal, the girls began to run, not stopping again until they had turned a corner onto a dingy side street. As they slowed down and tried to catch their breath, Phoebe grinned and pointed to the brightly lit store window several feet ahead of them.
“Well, here we are! Cold weather and Christmas coming and this great job waiting for you! What more could you ask for?”
“A best friend with half a brain.” Ryan grinned back. “An A on my history test tomorrow.”
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“Oh, darn, I forgot about that stupid test!”
“I have to make a good grade. I’m really doing awful in my classes.”
Phoebe looked concerned. “But I thought the teachers were being really understanding.”
“They are, but they can only be so understanding. I feel like I’m really losing it … I can’t concentrate … I can’t study … I don’t hear things in class … sometimes I come to and realize time’s passed, and it’s like I’ve just blanked out.”
“Give yourself time,” Phoebe said. “It’s only been a few weeks, and you’ve been through a lot. The teachers know that. Hey—I’ll be by later to study, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of popcorn.”
They paused on the sidewalk in front of a shabby brick building, smiling as they peered through the frost on the front window. Beyond a quaint sign reading PARTINI’S TOYSHOP, a Santa Claus doll supervised his workshop. In caps and aprons, amidst pots and wood shavings and sleepy-eyed reindeer, mechanical elves measured and cut, hammered and sawed, assembling toys while Christmas carols sang out from a hidden speaker. Ryan felt a rush of emotions go through her—an ache for her childhood, an emptiness for Marissa—and she gave Phoebe a playful shove to keep the tears from coming.
“See you tonight. Thanks for the escort.”
“You’re not still walking all the way home from here, are you?” Phoebe’s eyes went worriedly back and forth across the little alleyway, and she frowned. “I never have liked this place after dark, way back here by itself.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan teased. “This is the artsy section of town. This is where us creative types work.”
“Well, it just doesn’t seem safe to me,” Phoebe grumbled. “And it’s getting dark so early now.”
“It’s better than waiting for Mom to come and get me. She always forgets anyway. Look—it’s safe.” Ryan steered Phoebe back to the curb, pointing out more rundown shopfronts. “See? The art gallery? The bakery? The used bookstore? The Coffeehouse? All these antique shops?” Her voice sounded confident, but as she suddenly remembered her strange feeling back at school, a shiver went through her. “And Mr. Partini wouldn’t let anything happen to me.” She smiled now, thinking of the toy shop owner and the friendship they’d developed over the past six months she’d been employed.
“This place is creepy enough, but you still have to walk out on that old road,” Phoebe said stubbornly.
“I’ve walked that old road hundreds of times. Since I was old enough to walk home from school.”
“Well, I still don’t like it. Just please be careful, okay?”
“I promise. See you later.”
Ryan waved until Phoebe had disappeared, and as she finally stepped through the door, the fragrant warmth of the shop enveloped her like a welcoming hug.
It had started as a temporary job, a way to make extra money, but even after all these months, Ryan still hadn’t grown tired of the toy shop. It wasn’t like any other place she’d ever known, with its dark musty corners and cobwebbed ceiling, its dusty shelves and creaking, uneven floorboards. What had at one time been a showroom for antique furniture had become through the years a hopelessly cluttered wonderland of handmade toys, with Mr. Partini’s workshop at the back. Tiny locomotives trundled through the rooms on ledges along the walls. There were dolls of all sizes and kites shaped like animals; tins and tops and windup toys. From shadowy corners carousel horses watched with painted eyes that seemed to move. There was even a magnificent dollhouse with a backyard pond where the dollhouse family enjoyed seasonal outings. Ryan loved them all, and now as she sniffed the fresh evergreen from the decorated Christmas tree, she felt all her concerns melting away.
“Mr. Partini!” she called. “Mr. Partini, it’s me!”
Of course he’d be at his workbench, and of course he’d pretend he hadn’t heard her so he could act surprised when she poked her head through the curtain at the rear of the store. It was a game they always played, and as Ryan shrugged out of her coat, she began to pick her way carefully through the maze of toys and furniture.
And then she felt it again.
That strange tingly sensation of eyes boring into her back.
She had told Mr. Partini time and again how easy it was to overlook customers in the hopeless disarray, and now, as she slowly turned, her eyes swept each corner, expecting to find some customer browsing half hidden in the gloom.
“Hello?” Ryan called. “Is anyone there?”
No answer. As her eyes continued around the shop, she suddenly noticed a movement from the front window.
It was hard to see the figure clearly from its place out on the sidewalk; all Ryan could make out was a lumpy coat, a black ski mask with holes for eyes, and a cap pulled low on the head. One of the train whistles screeched, startling her, and when she looked again, the window was empty.
“You are a mess,” she scolded herself and continued on to the back. As she entered the work area, she saw the toymaker’s empty stool, where he should have been sitting, and uneasily she took down her apron from its hook on the wall. From behind her the bell tinkled over the front door, and she hurriedly walked out into the shop.
“Merry Christmas! If I can help you find anything, please—”
The cheery greeting died on her lips.
The shop was empty.
Funny … I could have sworn I heard that bell.…
Frowning, Ryan let her gaze wander once more over each crowded, shadowy corner, but when she didn’t hear anything else unusual, she sighed and got to work.
“Okay, family, everybody out—the maid’s here to dust!”
Ryan leaned in at the back of the dollhouse, where all the rooms lay open to view, but though she peered into the parlor, where the family should have been, it was deserted.
“It’s no use hiding,” Ryan joked, “I see everything!” But as she took a quick survey of all the other rooms, she stepped back, puzzled. I know I left them in the parlor … maybe some kid moved them … maybe some kid stole them.… She moved to one rear corner of the house and suddenly spotted the little dolls in their backyard, apparently enjoying some winter game as they clustered around the glass-mirror pond. “So there you are! What is this—a skating party and I wasn’t—”
Ryan froze, her eyes riveted on the artificial water. From somewhere far away she heard screams … screams for help … but the room was deathly silent.
The mirror was broken, shiny shards of glass in scattered silvery pieces, and trapped there, far out from shore, was one of the dolls.
Only her head was visible … and her arms, reaching for help …
And the bright red ribbon that streamed from her hair onto the soft white cotton snow.
Chapter 2
Mr. Partini!”
As Ryan stumbled backward, a display of wooden blocks clattered down around her, and she screamed and ran for the back room.
“Mr. Partini! Where are you!”
“Yes, yes, Bambalina! I hear you! The whole street—it hears you, too, eh?”
To Ryan’s relief, the back door opened and a bushy white head poked through, faded blue eyes twinkling behind round spectacles.
“What you so excited about, Bambalina? You just see Santa Claus? And he promised to bring you a nice young man for Christmas?” The heavy Italian accent gave way to a chuckle, but as Mr. Partini closed the door behind him, he finally focused in on Ryan’s pale face. “What happened to you? Why you look so scared?”
“The … the dollhouse!” Ryan tried to steady herself with a deep breath. “The pond—it’s broken—”
“What?” Mr. Partini lifted his head and made a disgusted sound in his throat. “You mean somebody busted up the mirror? Seven years’ bad luck!”
“But the doll—you’ve got to come—”
“Yes, Ryan, I come—ah! There go my tools on the floor—clumsy me! Yes, yes, just let me pick them up.…”
Ryan could hear herself babbling as
she flung the tools back onto his table, as she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the front. “She’s drowning—in the pond—in the ice—” She could see confusion all over Mr. Partini’s face, and as she got to the dollhouse, she gestured wildly. “See? The pond—”
“Yes, yes, I see the pond.” Mr. Partini’s head nodded rapidly up and down. “Yes, yes, but nobody drowning.”
“Look—there—” Ryan’s words choked in her throat, and she stared at the broken pond in the miniature backyard. The mirror still lay in slivers, but the doll was gone. Stunned, she leaned in close to the dollhouse. The family was back in the parlor. The drowning doll sat in a chair and wore no ribbon.
“No,” Ryan murmured, stepping back again. “No … you don’t understand …”
“Then you tell me, eh?” The old man shuffled forward, his kindly, wrinkled face full of concern. “You tell me, Bambalina, so I understand.”
Ryan shook her head slowly. “She was in the pond.”
“And you move her back inside?”
“No. I didn’t move her.”
“But …” Mr. Partini spread his hands, his face completely baffled. “How can that be? These no walking dolls—are sitting dolls!”
“But she was there,” Ryan insisted, her voice beginning to tremble. “She was in the pond, and no one would help her—”
“Ahhh … what you say to me, Bambalina?” He looked earnestly into her face, his confusion growing. “What—you think she need help, this little doll? Maybe she wanna go outside in the snow, eh? Yes, yes, is okay!” He nodded, pleased that he’d figured it out. “You help her! Put her outside! Whatever you want!”
“No … I …” Ryan’s voice faded, and she bowed her head. “It … made me think of my sister.”
She hadn’t wanted to say it, but she couldn’t help it. And now, seeing the look on Mr. Partini’s face, she hated herself.
“Ah … Ryan …” His hand fluttered over her head, settled shakily on her hair. “Is much too sad. My worst heartache …”
Fatal Secrets Page 2
