Topaz Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  “The town has half a dozen vacant buildings,” Syd called from the kitchen. “You need to talk Kurt into letting us use them for galleries. They’re not residential, like this place. They’re just empty storefronts. Maybe we can offer to paint the walls or add shelving or something.”

  “I’ve hired a lawyer to sue him.” Teddy checked in display mirror to see if her hair needed attention. “I’m not sure I should be the one asking.”

  Mia came over to peer into the counter with the crystals. “Can I touch this?”

  She picked one of the most boring stones in the case, a dull blue rectangle of anhydrite from Peru that gemologists had named Angelite. Teddy displayed it because she sensed its power, but it was not a stone most children would choose. “Why that one, sweetheart?” she asked, using a square of felt to lift it from the shelf and hold it out for Mia to touch.

  “It has voices,” Mia said, reverentially stroking the stone.

  Voices! Teddy vowed to look up the powers of Angelite. She was aware the stone was claimed to enhance psychic abilities and communication beyond the veil, but Mia couldn’t have known that.

  “I’ll make it into a pendant for you, if your mama says it’s okay,” Teddy promised. “But you must be careful to only listen to those voices when you can tell others what they’re saying, okay?”

  And now that she’d said that, she was terrified to let the child have the stone. Had bringing Mia here enhanced her previously unknown psychic abilities?

  Syd returned to hear the last part of their conversation. She frowned in worry. “Can you tell which crystals are safe?”

  Teddy shook her head. “I need to start researching and experimenting. I’ve never thought about why I choose the crystals and gems I use. Intellectually, I know their purpose, because I use it in marketing. But I didn’t realize I was adding power to them. Maybe exposure to the energy in Hillvale also adds power?”

  Mia carefully laid the stone back in the case. “There are too many voices at once,” she said pragmatically. “But it’s like singing and I like it.”

  “Then it’s yours. We can decide if you want it to look just like that or if it needs a prettier shape. Think about it, and let’s go find food for now.” Teddy took her niece’s hand, opening herself to Mia’s trust and happiness.

  It suddenly hit her that with a little practice, she could be a good parent someday. At least, she would always know how a child felt.

  What the hell had made her think of that now? Having Kurt around, helping her as if they were a real couple?

  That scared the crap out of her. Children needed two full-time parents, and she barely had her act together while learning to cope with her weird Inner Monitor. She’d never been good at dealing with full-grown men when she’d thought she was normal.

  And then there was Kurt, who was a complete mystery to her Monitor—and a man she was suing, for pity’s sake. If her thoughts turned to kids when he was around, she’d better stay miles away from him, if she knew what was good for her.

  When had her impulsive instincts known what was good for her?

  Twenty-one

  June 30: evening

  * * *

  “That woman is clearly insane, and her property rightfully belonged to your father.” Carmel’s icy tones radiated from the speaker phone the bartender had set on the bar in front of Kurt and Monty. Her spies had obviously warned her of Kurt’s visit to Cass. “But if you think you can get on her good side—she has no other heirs. Just don’t make it a habit.”

  Their mother cut off the communication before either of them could reply.

  Beside him, Monty whistled and said nothing. Kurt swigged his Perrier, wishing it were beer. The bar had some fine local craft brew he’d been meaning to try—

  “I think that went over well,” Monty said, quaffing his beer without compunction. “I’ve been waiting for the roof to blow off.”

  “There are days when I hope it will,” Kurt admitted. “Maybe she’ll let go and agree to sell the land then.”

  “Not happening, bro,” Monty advised. “She’s obsessed. Speaking of which, Lance wants us to let him have one of the vacant storefronts for another gallery. The whole damned town will be full of them soon. Why does Lance’s give me a bad feeling?”

  “Because he’s never displayed his work before? Because criticism sends him in a downward spiral? Because he’s a fine architect but only a competent portraitist?” Kurt nodded acknowledgment of the appetizers the bartender slid in front of them.

  He didn’t want to think about why their uncle had gone weird. He’d had enough weird for one day.

  “Because Aaron also asked for extra gallery space for the pottery?” Monty added. “And Mariah is both gloating and gloomily predicting the end of the world?”

  “An ill wind that blows nobody any good,” Kurt quoted, then added his own gloom. “Our lawyer says there are inconsistencies in the property filings on the Thompson-Baker house. He’s looking into that and the others. Maybe we should give up and find real jobs.”

  Monty slugged back his beer. “I think it’s too late for me to join the NFL. Know any other towns that can use my poli-sci major?”

  “Don’t be an ass. All you need to do is schmooze a little, watch for an opening, and pounce on some city manager position.” Kurt gestured his approval of the appetizers and ordered a steak. “But if I walk, who takes my place?”

  Monty scarfed the last of the shrimp and grinned at the mirror behind the bar. “The Lucys.”

  Kurt glanced over his shoulder, saw Teddy arriving, and his spirits inexplicably rose. But she was trailing Sam, which could not be a good thing. They only needed Mariah to complete the triumvirate of fair, dark, and fiery. Teddy’s hair was reverting to the true auburn he remembered. Her tight jeans swayed lusciously with every booted step, and she’d left her spangled cowboy shirt partially unbuttoned at the throat. He had to bite his tongue to prevent it from hanging out. She was so totally not the chic city woman he usually dated. Obviously, the lack of company in this town was messing with his head. And other parts south.

  “Hello, boys,” Teddy purred, stepping up to the bar and signaling the bartender, ordering her own glass of wine without waiting on them.

  He’d learned that Sam had been raised in Mormon territory and didn’t like wine. She consulted with the bartender over syrupy umbrella drinks.

  “Aaron and Lance already hit us up for gallery space,” Monty said, oblivious to Teddy’s sexy purrs and focused on his own agenda. “Those buildings are valuable property. If we find businesses actually prepared to pay rent and cover liability insurance, the galleries have to close.”

  “You thought we only came here for business?” Teddy asked with a little pout. “Shame on you. We were promised karaoke.”

  Kurt flashed a mental image of Teddy swinging those hips in front of a bar full of his male guests, and he covered his eyes. They wouldn’t even hear her voice for watching her boobs in that sexy shirt. “No karaoke, ever. Where’s Walker?”

  At his bark, Sam glanced at him in puzzlement. Tasting her green frothy drink, she swung the barstool in a circle, not overly concerned with his mood. “Still in Baskerville. I wanted to ask if Monty could park his car somewhere else so I can turn that vacant lot at city hall into a park. People need a place to sit and eat their ice cream.”

  “The last time I parked my car in the public lot, it got egged. You promising that won’t happen again?” Monty asked.

  “We promise to clean it if it happens,” Teddy agreed with a bright smile that Kurt knew meant trouble.

  “And that’s all you want?” he asked.

  “Well, money for plants and gravel, a fountain and benches would be good,” Sam added. “But I can find plants here and about.”

  “You’ll have half the lodge’s shrubbery transplanted in town,” Kurt grumbled.

  Monty chuckled, but Kurt focused on Teddy. She wasn’t here about plants. She settled on the stool beside him and sedately si
pped her chardonnay. He remembered where that pouty mouth had been last night and fried a few brain cells.

  “Mariah’s tired of stepping on my car roof to climb the bluff stairs,” Monty guessed. “And Val simply wants me out of her way.”

  “Oh, sure, and that too,” Sam agreed guilelessly.

  Their niece was new to Hillvale and didn’t participate in the town antipathies, but the Lucys were apparently finding her a useful communication tool. Kurt wondered how long that would last. He knew how long Teddy’s patience would last—until he took her to court over the house. Would she come after him then with a pitchfork or a chainsaw?

  “The town doesn’t have money for a park,” Monty said, digging into the salmon a waitress delivered. “If they want a park, they’ll have to raise funds for it.”

  “Fair enough. Teddy?” Sam leaned around Kurt and Monty to see what Teddy was up to.

  Teddy’s subtle jasmine perfume was driving Kurt crazy, but he pretended not to notice as he dug into his steak without asking the women if they’d eaten.

  Teddy leaned over the bar to see Sam, displaying her ample cleavage in that half-buttoned shirt. “You, Aaron, and Syd price what we need, and I’ll see how much fits my budget. I need to get the shop functional soon though, if I’m to provide funding for a park. My credit only stretches so far.”

  “You could have called Monty and done this in the morning,” Kurt complained, trying not to grit his molars. His dentist bill would be astronomical at this rate. “What is it you really want?”

  “Your presence, of course,” Teddy said, widening her eyes in surprise. “And we don’t like plotting behind your back. Sam is instigating a new policy of openness. I’m just along for the ride. And info, maybe. Do either of you know which store was once an art shop?”

  That caught him off guard. Kurt quit cutting his steak to figure out where that question had come from.

  Teddy answered without his asking. “Thalia tells us there’s a mural in the art store. If we could uncover it, it might be valuable.”

  Kurt glared at her. “Your dead cousin’s ghost? Or did you interpret more of the backing?”

  “Ghosts talk?” Monty asked, always curious.

  “They talk to Mia.” Teddy cast them a wicked smile. “We think she’s either affected by my crystals or Hillvale, or both.”

  “They’re indoctrinating children now,” Kurt said with a sigh. Maybe he’d give up the no-drinking-on-the-job policy. He really wanted that beer. How could he be enthralled with a woman who was so foolish as to believe in ghosts?

  Maybe this was just her way of messing with his mind. He could deal with that.

  “Did you ask Xavier about the art shop? He’s been here longer than we have,” Monty suggested, skipping ghosts and heading for pragmatic—the reason he was mayor material and not Kurt. “I don’t remember one.”

  “Lance would,” Kurt admitted. “He’s been coming up here every summer since he was a kid. He probably lived at the commune at some point. If there was an art shop, he’ll know.”

  “Does he have a phone or should we go over and visit?” Sam asked. “He tends to ramble a lot, and I wanted to get home before Walker comes looking for me.”

  “You go home,” Kurt said, his lower brain devising a strategy on the spot. If he could keep this all about sex, he might survive pitchforks and chainsaws. “I’ll take Teddy over. If Lance plans on having a gallery, she’ll have to introduce him to her sister. He knows damn all about hanging art.”

  “Is that okay, Teddy? Kurt can give you a ride home.” Sam slurped the last of her drink and stood.

  Teddy, trapped up here without her getaway vehicle—Kurt liked that thought real fine.

  Teddy knew manipulation when she heard it. She sipped her wine and thought about whether she’d let Kurt win this one. She really wanted to talk to Lance. She could do so tomorrow, she supposed, but she had a store that needed opening and jewelry that wouldn’t make itself.

  This was where impulse overruled common sense. She cast a glance at the steely set of Kurt’s jaw and opened her senses just a hair.

  The man was practically emanating frustration. Cool. Something was breaking through his tough barriers! She hoped it was her. That offered a modicum of validation for her impulsiveness.

  “My lawyer says I shouldn’t discuss our impending litigation,” she said, just to raise his hackles a little more and remind him that she wasn’t a pushover.

  “My lawyer says screw yours.” He finished chewing his steak, took a gulp of water, and stood up. “Go on, Sam. I’ll take Teddy home.”

  “I’ll just sit here and think about karaoke,” Monty said.

  Teddy sensed his amusement, even if she didn’t understand the cause. She finished her wine and patted Monty’s thick, stylishly mussed hair. “I’m happy one of you has sense. This place looks like a baby boomer museum. Your guest roster will die on the vine unless you market to younger people.”

  “Says the marketing genius hiding from her customers,” Kurt said, catching her arm and dragging her away.

  “Are you sure you want to go with Kurt?” Sam called after them. “I can talk to Lance tomorrow.”

  Teddy waved her on. “Don’t worry about me and Kurt. I eat nasty boys for lunch.”

  She almost laughed when Kurt’s lust spiked. That didn’t take any mind reading.

  She untangled her arm from his grip and took his in retaliation. He was still wearing his suit coat. “It’s evening,” she told him. “Aren’t you allowed happy hour at the very least? Shrug out of the coat, put on jeans, a nice tight t-shirt. . .” She let her voice trail off suggestively.

  His tension ratcheted another notch. “You don’t want to hear the guest complaints I’ve addressed these past few hours. The only way to deal with executives on vacation is to put myself into a position of authority and talk to them on a level they understand. If I’m in a suit and they’re in shorts, I already have the upper hand.”

  She sighed loudly. “You are so wasted on this job. Hire a retired army officer.”

  She thought she sensed a hint of amusement, but he kept himself too tightly controlled to know for certain.

  “He wouldn’t last, but I’d like to watch a general handle adult temper tantrums, howling dogs, and screaming tots, while juggling a drunken sous chef, a housekeeping thief, and a report to investors on why our ROI isn’t what it should be.” He led her out a side door and around the lodge toward the back, where the forest darkness loomed over the parking lot. The scent of ash still hung in the air. The fire line had come dangerously close to this portion of the resort.

  “He’d need an army to command,” she replied in the same tone. “You could dress your staff in khaki shorts and safari hats and let him give marching orders.”

  That almost elicited a chuckle. Teddy patted herself on the back for reducing his irritation levels. There was a highly intelligent, perceptive man underneath that uptight grouch. She’d really rather work with him than against him, if that was possible.

  He nodded at the well-lit timber cottage ahead. “My uncle did drugs too long, lost his architectural firm and most of his mind. His art has been all that’s kept him occupied these last years. He never displays it. He can’t take criticism. But when he’s coherent, he has a useful memory. He’s been coherent a lot more lately.”

  “Scientists really don’t understand brain chemistry,” she said thoughtfully, studying the cottage. “His brain may be repairing itself with the artwork. Or the artwork could be the source of his memories. I know I have almost no understanding of how and why I create what I do.”

  He didn’t reply but led her up the stairs to his uncle’s studio. He rapped but the door was already partially open. He pushed it aside and led her into what must once have been a large living-dining area. The white walls were nearly bare. The dark plank floors were covered in stacks of canvases stacked from end to end.

  “Are these all the paintings you’re displaying?” Kurt asked his u
ncle in obvious incredulity. “Do we have a vacant shop big enough?”

  The tall, graying-blond man studying a canvas in his big hands looked up. His uncle was bony where Kurt was muscled, but Teddy could see some resemblance in the rugged cheekbones and wide shoulders.

  “I need to either oil out or paint over that pile there.” Lance nodded at a long line of stacked canvas on the far wall, then gestured at a smaller, closer batch. “These are the ones I want to display. I figure the old church should do it. It has windows that will provide natural light.”

  The canvas backs were all turned to the door so Teddy couldn’t see the artwork. She didn’t know whether she should ask to see them or let Kurt take the lead. Judging by his pallor and lack of weight, his uncle didn’t appear to be entirely a well man, but he seemed purposeful.

  “Church? How can we own a church? I didn’t think the town’s hedonists allowed one.” Kurt crouched beside the stack of canvas Teddy wanted to see.

  “Well, that’s what we used to call it. It has a bell tower, but I’m not sure it was ever used as a church. Meeting house, maybe? I think a dollar-store type of place was in there last.” Lance added the canvas in his hands to the reject pile.

  Since Lance didn’t seem to object to Kurt examining his work, Teddy crouched down beside him. The subject of the first piece appeared to be a lovely woman in a costume from some old musical—Hello Dolly, maybe?—huge fluffy hat, sweeping gown, flinging her hand dramatically toward a badly sketched setting in the background.

  “I remember the cheap-goods store, there at the end next to Aaron’s and across from city hall. The tower has roof rats. It will take some work to clean up that place.” Kurt flipped to the next oil—the same woman, this time in petticoats and a skirt from the fifties.

  “Sam said she’d help. And it has shelves for pottery. Someone was going to display that, right?”