Snake in the Glass

by Sarah Atwell

  “It came with the place—that was one of the reasons I really wanted this house. I’m glad you like it.”

  Dangerous ground, Em. In another universe, an ordinary female would be sketching out an entire future based on a comment like that. Would you like to live here, my darling? But Matt and I didn’t do anything by the book, and I wasn’t ready to go in that direction.

  “I can see why you like it. It fits you—efficient but with some unexpected surprises. How about that dinner you promised?” Nothing like changing the subject.

  “All set. Would you care for wine or a beer?”

  Somehow beer didn’t seem to fit the mood. “Wine sounds nice.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen and emerged a minute later with a chilled glass of white wine. “Here. Give me five and I’ll have everything on the table.”

  I took my wine and drifted through the living room and dining room. The furniture was plain and sturdy, but I caught a hint of designer lines. What decoration there was, was spare and clean—masculine without being pathetic. It looked a whole lot better than my place, no question. And, I was happy to note, I didn’t see anything that could be remotely construed as a feminine touch. Unless the bedroom was filled with white ruffles. Somehow I doubted that.

  Matt escorted me to my seat, held out the chair for me. I half-expected him to unfold my napkin (cloth, not paper!) and lay it on my lap. I looked at the plate in front of me. “This looks great. Did you make it?”

  “Are you worried? Yes, I made it all with my own hands, and I’ve survived on my own cooking for a while. Just taste it, will you?”

  I did. I tasted again, just in case I’d been wrong the first time. Damn, the man could cook! “It’s great. Remind me to come up with some more adjectives, will you? And you are full of surprises, Matt Lundgren.”

  I smiled. He smiled. We ate. We finished a bottle of wine, and another one miraculously appeared. “I’m not sure I should drive home,” I said, after I’d lost count of glasses.

  “Did you expect to?”

  Well, no, I hadn’t. Not really. If I had found the house full of tasteful designer touches—in other words, still reeking of Lorena—maybe I would have turned tail and run. But the house was so Matt, I had to admit I felt at ease. “I wasn’t sure. But I am now.”

  “So you’re staying?”

  “I’d like that. Although I kind of feel like we should have some sort of ceremony, like an exorcism.”

  “To banish Lorena forever?”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “I think I have an idea about that,” he said. He stood up and held out a hand, and I accepted it and followed him to the bedroom.

  Sometime later, I lay in the unfamiliar dark, listening to the trickle of water outside the screened window, and Matt’s steady breathing. I liked this house, I decided. It was Matt’s house, and Lorena had done no more than pass through it. The exorcism had been a resounding success, and, wonder of wonders, we hadn’t even been interrupted by some police crisis. Maybe this would all work out just fine, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

  I woke again about three in the morning and remembered the dogs. I sat up quietly. Good—there were no lingering effects of the wine. I could be home in ten minutes, through the deserted streets.

  Matt reared his head. “Wha? Em?”

  “Shh . . . Go back to sleep. I forgot about the dogs, and I don’t know that there’s anyone there to deal with them. I mean, maybe Frank is, but I’m not sure. . . .” I was dithering and I knew it, but I just couldn’t bring myself to stay all night. “But I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay?”

  For a moment I thought he was going to protest or even pull me back into bed. But he didn’t, and I wasn’t sure if I was glad or disappointed. I thought for a moment of the effort he had put into the evening, to make it special. For me. In a way the idea scared me. I had worked hard to be independent, and I liked where I was in my life. I wasn’t sure where Matt fit in it, and I wasn’t sure what changes I was willing to make. This night had signaled some sort of shift in our relationship. I needed to think that over—alone.

  I slipped on my clothes, tiptoed silently out of the room, and let myself out. When I got home, the dogs looked up once and went back to sleep, and I discovered that Frank had left a note. “Fed and walked dogs. See you in morning.” I heard the sound of light snoring from the guest bedroom.

  Still no sign of Cam.

  Chapter 8

  In the past, peridot was considered more precious than diamonds.

  The next morning dawned fair and clear. Of course, it’s almost always fair and clear in Tucson, except during the summer monsoon season, which was still a ways off. I lay in bed listening for sounds and heard Frank’s voice. No one answered, so I had to assume he was talking to the dogs. Ergo, no Cam. He’d now been gone almost three full days without even a phone call, and I was beginning to worry.

  I made the necessary ablutions and stumbled out to where Frank was busy frying eggs. I could smell coffee, so I made a beeline for it. Once I had a mug filled, I sat down and prepared to be sociable. “Morning.” I swallowed more coffee.

  “Morning, Em. Thought I’d get me an early start today.”

  “More gem stuff?” I said intelligently.

  “Right. I’ve still got some people I want to catch up with. Don’t think you’d enjoy it.”

  “Hey, I’m happy with everything you’ve showed me, but I have a business to run.” I thought a moment before posing the question, “Frank, how tight is this gem community of yours? How many of them do you know?”

  Frank slid filled plates on the table and joined me with his own coffee. “Diamonds are a funny business. Everybody knows about the big guys like De Beers, but over the last decade or two a lot of new players have come into the game.”

  “Like you?” I smiled at him.

  “Ah, I’m small potatoes. But Australia’s in the mix. So’s Canada now, and new stuff’s popping up in Africa all the time these days. Lots of changes, lots of shifting alliances.”

  “You’re right—I didn’t know. But then, I’m not a diamond kind of gal.”

  I stood up abruptly and went to the phone. Cam’s cell number was on my speed-dial, and I hit that number. The call went straight to voice mail again, so I left a message. “Hey, baby brother, you’re going to miss Frank if you don’t come back soon. Call me, will you?”

  Frank had watched this exchange. “No hurry. I’ll be around for a few days. But what’s up with that brother of yours?”

  I sighed. “I wish I knew. He’s made a lot of changes in his life lately—new job, moving here.” And he had believed that Allison was going to be part of that. “Maybe he’s just trying to clear his head. But it is unusual that I haven’t heard from him.”

  “When’s his new job start?”

  “Next Monday, so he’s got some time yet. Well, I’ve done what I can do. Oh, by the way, that professor guy stopped by yesterday and put in some time. What’re the odds that he finds something worthwhile in his twenty hours?”

  “Hard to say,” Frank replied thoughtfully. “Small, probably, but he could get lucky. If he’s done his research, he’s probably narrowed down the possibilities, so he’ll focus on particular temperatures or combinations of heat and other factors. But no guarantees. The stones are just as likely to blow up in his face as not, particularly if they’re flawed. And it’s a low-end stone, although that might work in his favor, since it’ll be cheap to experiment with.”

  “Was there an answer in there?”

  Frank grinned. “Sure: maybe.”

  “Thanks a lot. Well, it’s no skin off my nose, and he paid up front. Speaking of which, I’d better make sure that check gets to the bank.” I made a mental note to take it downstairs and give it to Nessa. Speaking of whom . . . “You and Nessa have any plans?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been keeping my options open.”

  “Don’t worry, I owe her time since she covered for me and
Allison when we were in Ireland. This is a slow season for me anyway, so it’s no problem.” I stood up and carried our plates over to the sink. “Well, I think I’ll take the pups for a walk and then head downstairs. I gave you a key, right?”

  “That you did. Thanks again for putting me up here, Em.”

  “My pleasure, Frank.”

  As I gathered up dogs and leashes, I reflected that I had meant what I said. Frank wasn’t like anyone I had ever known, and while he kept his cards close to his vest, I trusted him. Of course, if he decided to sweep Nessa off her feet and haul her back to Australia, I’d be up a creek, but I wasn’t going to worry about that until it happened. I had a suspicion that her grandkids would be a powerful tie to the Tucson area.

  Fred, Gloria, and I made the circuit of the neighborhood. This was one of my favorite times of day. It was fun to watch the streets come alive as artisans trickled in, shop lights came on, doors opened. I nodded and smiled to those I knew, which was most of them since I was a relative old-timer, and dutifully picked up my dogs’ deposits. It was still early, so I took my time, and it must have been a half hour later when I finally came back to my place—to find Denis waiting at the back door.

  “My, you’re early,” I greeted him, fighting annoyance. “Haven’t we talked about you calling before coming over, please? And don’t you have classes to teach or something?”

  “I’m sorry, I forgot. And no classes ’til afternoon. I thought I could get a couple of hours in, if that’s not a problem.”

  “That’s okay, I guess. You’ve picked a good time to do this, since there aren’t a lot of tourists around, except the ones who come for the Gem Show. Are you hoping to have something to sell there?”

  “Oh, no, no. You have to get that set up like a year in advance, and even if everything worked out here, I wouldn’t have time to get ready.”

  “You have any luck yesterday?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. It’s still too early to tell.”

  So much for small talk. “I’ll let you in, but then I’ve got to get these two back upstairs,” I said, holding up the leashes. The pups had held their ground at my feet: they hadn’t made up their minds about Denis. Friend or foe? I unlocked the back door and held it open for Denis, who made a beeline for the kiln, turned it on, then went to my big table and started unloading his backpack. I closed the door behind him and went around to the side and carried the dogs up the stairs.

  Once inside I was greeted with silence. Frank was gone. I checked my phone, but there were no messages. Cam hadn’t said where he was going, and his phone was either off, out of power, or out of range of any cell tower—not unusual around Tucson. Well, there wasn’t a lot I could do if I couldn’t even talk to him. If Cam didn’t answer his phone, I had no idea how to reach him. I just had to trust that he would show up sooner or later. I knew that Cam was definitely a responsible person and took his obligations seriously, so I could figure on seeing him in time for him to start his new job.

  Dogs safely settled, I realized I had promised to call Matt. He was probably still at home. I dialed.

  He answered quickly. “Hey.”

  “Hey. Sorry I ducked out on you this morning.”

  “That’s okay. I know the dogs are more important than I am.”

  “Well, they haven’t learned to feed themselves yet,” I said more tartly than I intended. “Sorry. Last night was . . .” I fumbled for a word and finally gave up. “It meant something to me.”

  “Does that mean we can do it again?”

  “As long as you cook. Unless that wasn’t the part of the evening that you were referring to?”

  He chuckled. “I’m happy to cook for you any time.”

  We said our good-byes and I went back downstairs to keep an eye on Denis. I kept myself busy dusting (an endless chore in dry Tucson), straightening the articles on the glass display shelves, figuring out where the holes were, and adding some new pieces from inventory. Denis looked like a chef waiting for his bread to rise. It would be a fine balancing act for him working with the kiln: he was eager to see results, but he had to give the heat time to do its work, and he couldn’t peek without losing heat. I watched long enough to be sure he wasn’t doing anything stupid but otherwise let him go on about his business.

  His presence reminded me about the check I’d stuffed in my pocket after breakfast. In the shop, I greeted Nessa, then said, “Nessa, before I forget—can you make sure his check goes to the bank?” I fished it out of my pocket and handed it to her.

  “The bank is on my list for today. There hasn’t been much to deposit lately. Why don’t I go now, before things get busy?”

  I knew she was joking. “Things should pick up once the gem people leave town,” I said. “We’ve weathered this before.”

  “We have. So he’s back again?”

  “As you can see. I’ll keep an eye on the shop while you go to the bank.”

  Nessa left after gathering up our meager take from the last few days, and I pottered around until she came back. Then I did some bookkeeping and filing, but by lunchtime I was anxious to get to my own work. Denis would just have to make do. He was so engrossed in making notes in a notebook that he didn’t even notice me approaching. He jumped when I spoke. “How’s it going?”

  “Oh, fine, fine. Or at least, I’m eliminating some of the range.” He looked quickly at his watch. “Shoot, I’ve got a class in an hour—I’ve got to go. And I’m sure you need to use the studio.”

  “Yes, I do.” I shouldn’t feel like I was apologizing: this was my studio.

  “Will the studio be available tonight?”

  Boy, he really was pushy. “You want to come in when I close up? I guess that’s okay.”

  “And I had another idea. Can I leave some stones in the kiln overnight and come back in the morning to look at them?”

  “I guess.” I wasn’t all that comfortable having him around, alone, at night, but I couldn’t think of a good reason to say no. And, after all, he was paying me for the time he spent here, and even the additional electricity wouldn’t be that much extra. But why the hurry?

  Denis was waiting outside my shop door at six fifty-three, shifting from foot to foot to keep warm in the chilly evening air. I let him in, locking the door behind me, then followed him into the studio. Even after he had taken his coat off, in the warmth of the studio, he still seemed nervous, so I decided to hang around and watch him for a bit. If I had had a stash of valuables on the premises, I might have worried that he was setting me up for a heist, but there was little worth taking. Maybe he was just a naturally nervous person—but that didn’t make me feel any more confident.

  “Progress?”

  He was immersed in his research notebook and looked up blankly for a moment. “Oh, well, you know . . .”

  I perched on one of my high stools. If he was using my space, he owed me a little polite conversation. “Have you gotten any results?”

  He shrugged. “A little shift in color. Not enough to make a difference, really. But hotter seems to work better.”

  “How did you get interested in stones? That’s kind of far from your professional field, isn’t it?”

  Denis pulled open the kiln lid and with long tongs carefully positioned a small crucible in the interior, rearranging a few others. He stepped back, considered, then moved it an infinitesimal amount, then shut the lid again. Returning to the table, he made a note in his notebook. Finally my question registered and he looked up at me.

  “What? Oh, you were asking how I got interested. Well, it’s hard not to be, living in Tucson.”

  I did not point out that I lived here too and yet I’d avoided it so far.

  “My wife likes jewelry, but I’m afraid her tastes are a bit beyond my salary. I thought maybe I could create something unique, maybe even name it after her, and it would make her happy.”

  “That’s a nice idea. What’s her name again?”

  “Elizabeth. I was thinking maybe ‘bethite.’ “ />
  “That’s sweet.” Poor Elizabeth. “Can you patent this process?”

  “Not really. It’s kind of dog-eat-dog in the gem business, from what I’ve seen. You just hope to get in ahead of the curve, but other people are going to catch up. You haven’t told anyone about what I’m doing, have you?” Suddenly he looked furtive.

  “Why would I?” I replied. Technically evasive, but not an outright lie. I wasn’t going to mention Frank, who knew all about treated stones anyway, and who I trusted not to steal Denis’s process. And Matt knew too, but he was completely trustworthy. “How many more trials do you need to do? Because you’re at least halfway through your twenty hours.”

  “I’ll pay you for more,” he said quickly. Almost too quickly. “Maybe another twenty, over the next week? That should do it.”

  I reviewed the rest of the week in my head and couldn’t see why that would be a problem. “That’s fine. Paid in advance again.”

  “Sure, fine.” He turned his attention back to his notes, shutting me out.

  I wasn’t sure what more I hoped to accomplish, so I stood up. “You said you’re going to leave some stuff inside the kiln overnight? Okay, then shut the door and turn out the lights when you go. You can let yourself out the back—that’s on a dead bolt. Just pull it closed after you.”

  He looked up at me then and manufactured a smile. “I’ll do that. Thanks a lot, Em. See you tomorrow.”

  As I made my own way back upstairs, I tried to analyze why I felt troubled. Denis was paying me for the studio time, no problem. Sure he seemed nervous, but I didn’t know him well enough to judge whether that was his general demeanor or whether he actually was nervous about something, and I certainly had no clue what that might be. He’d told me a sweet story about creating something for his wife—which I found unconvincing—but what difference did it make? I resolved to ask Frank a bit more about the commercial aspects of treated stones the next time I saw him.

  Chapter 9