Knock on Wood

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Was it unpredicted? I hadn’t checked the news.” Not even this week’s issue of the Destiny Star that contained, along with its local news, a weekly weather prediction.

  I had looked to make sure that one of its owners was at my talk, so I figured there would be a story about it in their next edition. I was sure they’d feel safe reporting about something so uncontroversial.

  “I wasn’t aware of it,” Justin said, “and we always talk about potential changes in the weather each morning at the station.”

  “All right, then. Let’s say that my talk, and descriptions of those pet-related superstitions, did cause this.” My back toward the door to my shop, I gestured around. Justin laughed. I turned toward him. There were too many people around for us to share a kiss goodbye. But …“Care to join Gemma and me for dinner tonight?” I asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  Smiling, I turned—only to see the door to my shop open. I stepped back, expecting to see a customer come out.

  No one did.

  And when I stepped forward I saw no one near the door.

  Justin hadn’t taken off yet. I looked at him.

  “Isn’t there a superstition about doors that open by themselves?” I asked.

  “You’re more of an expert these days than I am,” he said, “but yes. It’s supposed to be a sign that you’re going to get a visitor.” Cop that he was, he stepped toward it and looked around inside but didn’t seem particularly alarmed.

  “Well, that’s fine,” I said as he turned to face me again. “That visitor will probably be another customer.”

  “Or not. The way I understand the superstition is that the person who’ll show up is not someone you want to have around.”

  Our dinner that night at the Shamrock Steakhouse went well. Justin and I, and our dogs Pluckie and Killer, were joined on the crowded—and fortunately well-covered—patio by Gemma and her companion for the night, Stuart. The rain had lessened but a heavy mist still drifted downward.

  We’d briefly thought of introducing Gemma to the Black Cat Inn’s restaurant but immediately discarded the idea since that inn was where Frank was staying.

  No use inviting bad luck. And we had no reason to believe that Frank had left town.

  During our meal, we talked about Gemma’s new potential career. “Yes, I’m staying for now,” she said. “I even got my boss’s okay to come back when I’m ready, just like you did.” She grinned.

  “Great!” I said, knowing I might never take advantage of that promise I’d received from the manager of the MegaPets store I’d worked at in L.A.

  Later, Justin and Killer walked us back to the B&B. Gemma shot me an evil smile, and when Stuart strode inside the lobby, she followed him. I, in turn, aimed an amused smile at Justin as we both held our dogs’ leashes. “I think my friend is encouraging us to share a good night kiss.”

  “I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.” Justin’s voice was low and sexy, and he leaned down to comply with what we figured Gemma wanted. And I wanted. And clearly Justin wanted, too. And Killer and Pluckie? Justin’s Doberman and my spaniel mix just sat tolerantly on the ground beside us, looking up.

  The kiss certainly didn’t disappoint me, but once again I was glad we were in public with other people around. I’d already acknowledged to myself that my attitude was softening, but I wasn’t ready to jump into a new relationship … yet.

  Justin and Killer left then, and Pluckie and I went inside. Stuart must already have gone to his room since I didn’t see him.

  I braced for Gemma’s teasing. Instead she just said, “It’s nice that you’ve got a new relationship blossoming, Rory.”

  “Maybe, but you have a couple.”

  Before she could respond, our hostess and owner of the B&B, Serina Frye, joined us from the TV room off the side of the lobby. “Hi, ladies. Do you have everything you need for the night?”

  Everything but Justin, I thought, then scolded myself internally for even harboring the idea. Although …

  I did talk to Gemma in her room before we went to bed. She was ready at last to discuss her breakup with Frank. She spoke quite a lot, in fact, about how her quiet, sometimes insecure Frank had apparently decided they were more than an item and became verbally abusive about it at times. The end came because, just this past week, he had become physically threatening when Gemma talked to other men at the library where they’d both worked. “Even if I’d considered him my ultimate guy before, I definitely wouldn’t after he started that,” she said.

  “Good girl,” I applauded, and we soon said good night.

  The next morning, I walked Pluckie first thing as always. I then joined Gemma to have breakfast in the B&B’s dining area. “Stuart had a teleconference this morning,” she told me. “He said he’d be on his phone for a while and to go ahead without him.”

  He didn’t appear before we finished and left, walking toward our respective stores together with Pluckie accompanying us.

  Gemma had already told me that Nancy was going to meet her at the Broken Mirror first thing to let her in and get her started for the day. “I won’t be surprised if the Brownlings come, too, to make sure I also get their ideas and don’t start playing favorites.”

  I laughed. Soon, we reached Destiny Boulevard. The Wish-on-a-Star children’s shop was on the right. I ushered Gemma in that direction, pulling Pluckie’s leash gently to get her to follow.

  “I made a wish once on those falling stars,” I said, pointing to the display in the store’s window in which lights acted as moving stars burning day and night. Now, it was almost time for the shop to open, but I didn’t want to take the time to introduce Gemma to the owner, Lorraine Nereida. Not yet. But I’d liked Lorraine when we’d talked before. “It came true,” I finished.

  It had been fairly unassuming. I’d merely asked to make the right decision about whether to stay in Destiny to run the Lucky Dog Boutique. My decision had sort of fallen around me like a soft sheet that had grown tauter, pulling me in and holding me here.

  So far, I hadn’t regretted it. Did it have anything to do with my wish?

  Around here, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  “That’s cool.” Gemma’s grin looked wistful. “Do you think I could try it?”

  “Sure.” I waited while, watching the display, she made her wish—which she of course didn’t reveal to me. That would have assured it wouldn’t come true.

  Still avoiding cracks in the sidewalk, along with the window-shopping tourists and traffic on Destiny Boulevard, we crossed the street and reached the Broken Mirror Bookstore.

  “I’ll stop in later to see how you’re doing,” I told Gemma. “And feel free to call me anytime.”

  I gave her a quick, encouraging hug, then Pluckie and I headed next door to the Lucky Dog. It was around nine thirty, half an hour before we opened. I would be the only salesperson there for the first couple of hours that morning.

  But Martha had come downstairs from her apartment above the store. Not only that, but her nephew Arlen, with whom she had a difficult relationship, was there too. Arlen Jallopia was a Destiny tour guide. In fact, I’d taken his tour and really enjoyed it. And now, partially thanks to my success in giving talks regarding pet superstitions, he had been able to add the Lucky Dog Boutique to his tour itinerary.

  Arlen was a nice-looking guy who resembled a sitcom star, with spiky dark brown hair. As usual, he wore a red knit shirt with the Destiny’s Luckiest Tours logo on the pocket.

  Right now, aunt and nephew were at the side of the store near a display of superstition dog toys. Each had a cup of take-out coffee in their hands that I assumed Arlen had brought from the nearby

  Beware-of-Bubbles Coffee Shop. Yes, there were superstitions involving the formation and movement of bubbles in cups of coffee; I’d learned that soon after arriving here.

  Whatever those bubbles were doing right now, I wanted to salute them. Aunt and nephew seemed to be getting along great … for this moment.

  Did I
want them to get along permanently? That could lead to Martha hiring Arlen to run this shop, as he wanted.

  Well, that would certainly make future decisions for me. I had even begun weighing the pros and cons of possibly asking to buy the place from Martha.

  I chatted with them for a few minutes before taking the steps I needed to open the doors of the store. Arlen offered to help, and I took him up on it, at least as far as straightening some displays.

  Soon after I opened the store I found myself waiting on customers, Pluckie at my side. It was fun sharing pet-related superstitions with the tourists who came in and asked questions about the products we sold. A few had been at my most recent presentation.

  I really enjoyed this place. This store. The kinds of patrons who came in.

  Maybe I would make that purchase offer to Martha someday. Not now, though. She hung around till Arlen had to leave for his job, then walked to the stairway that would take her up to her apartment.

  “You okay to go up there on your own?” I asked her.

  “Yes, I’m doing well this morning, dear. And if I trip going up the stairs—”

  “Yes, I know, it’s not as bad as when you go down the stairs.” We’d talked about these superstitions before. The former meant a wedding in the family, while the latter meant bad luck.

  She soon started up the steps, closing the door behind her.

  Late morning, Millie came in. Once she got settled and started waiting on customers, I had time to go next door and check on Gemma.

  Good thing I did. First thing I saw when I walked into the bookstore was that all three men who seemed interested in her were present. They stood around the table that harbored Tarzal’s book on superstitions.

  Glaring at each other.

  Gemma quickly walked around them to join me at the door. “I have a feeling there’s a lot of bad luck floating in the air around here,” she whispered.

  It was then I saw the black cat sitting calmly near the wall at the far corner of the store.

  Same cat? A different one?

  I wondered once more: How many black cats were there in Destiny?

  Did I keep seeing only one? And though it—they?—never got too near, were they crossing my path?

  Unfortunately, or fortunately, I’d left Pluckie next door with Millie, assuming I’d return to my store fairly quickly.

  Now I wasn’t so sure.

  “We can fix that kind of bad luck,” I told Gemma anyway. “Why don’t you go check out the cash register or do something that looks official? I’ll see what I can do about all your visitors.”

  “Thanks.” Her tone was soft and grateful.

  As to the first visitor I tried to approach, the cat must have had its own hidden access, since by the time I edged my way over toward where I’d seen it, it had disappeared.

  By then, Gemma was behind the counter looking down at the computer that, unlike at the Lucky Dog, sat on the checkout counter all the time. I wondered if the screen was blank or if she’d gotten onto the Internet to see if there was some kind of superstitious ritual she could undertake to fix things around here.

  In any event, she was avoiding the table with Tarzal’s books. She nevertheless glanced that way now and then, and all three men—even Frank—aimed smiles at her.

  Well, I wasn’t the object of their unwanted attentions. And maybe some of those attentions were, in fact, appreciated by Gemma.

  The only one I was sure wasn’t welcome was Frank. But the public affairs director? The book editor?

  All three were whispering to one another. Loudly.

  Angrily at times, or so it sounded.

  Each held a Destiny of Superstitions book in his hands. Their professions—a politico in his usual suit, a librarian dressed less formally but still sharp, and an editor in casual clothing—left each of their pairs of hands relatively smooth and sleek, not like those of a workman. Were there any superstitions relating to hands?

  Maybe I was overreacting. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to call Justin. But I did press his number into my phone—and only got one of his underling cops. I mentioned my name and her tone grew brighter. Uh-oh. I wasn’t sure what it meant when cops started to know who you were, but I’d worry about that later.

  Right now, I left Justin a quick message about a potentially looming altercation at the Broken Mirror. Then I hung up.

  “So, fellows,” I said as I drew near. “I assume you’ve read The Destiny of Superstitions many times, Stuart.” I faced the editor, and he nodded.

  “That’s part of my job,” he responded. With his height and athletic build, I suspected he’d win in a physical altercation with either of the others, but also figured, with his literary background, that he wouldn’t take them on that way—not intentionally. “A very welcome part. I’m really glad to be here to help make sure this book remains readily available in this town.”

  “Fine, then.” Frank’s hazel-eyed glare at Stuart from beneath his glasses shot flames. He appeared unlikely to win a fist fight, but I suspected he was the most likely to start one. “You stay here. Run this shop. Sell some books. But stop whatever it is you’re trying to convince Gemma to do. She doesn’t belong here.”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong about that,” Lou said as smoothly as if he was discussing the town’s attractions with tourists. Of all of them, I’d bet he would fare the worst in a battle of fisticuffs. But, also of all of them, I suspected he’d be best at worming his way out of it with words. He lifted the book he’d been thumbing through and pointed toward it. “The Broken Mirror needs someone in charge who knows books, and knows them well. Not just a few titles.”

  He shot a somewhat condescending look toward Stuart, suggesting that an editor only knew about those books he helped to get ready for publication. In this case, one of those books was definitely the most important anyway. I didn’t particularly agree with the public affairs director but wanted to hear the rest of his spiel. And had he read any books lately besides The Destiny of Superstitions?

  “As a librarian,” Lou continued, looking at Frank, “you, of all people, must understand how marvelous the breadth of a librarian’s knowledge of literature is.”

  “Then maybe I should stay here and run this place.” Frank’s growl elicited a worried frown on Lou’s face.

  “I don’t think—”

  “No, you don’t,” Frank cut in. “You don’t think. Look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I came to this ridiculous town to bring my girl back home. And the two of you are—”

  “Oh, I don’t think she’s your girl,” Lou interrupted, his voice raised. “In fact, I think she’s the perfect person to run the Broken Mirror.” He aimed a glorious smile in Gemma’s direction, but she was still, wisely, working with the computer. Lou turned back toward Frank. “And I’ve definitely gotten the impression from Ms. Grayfield that she wants you to leave. Now.” His tone had suddenly turned ominous.

  Frank took a step closer to the director, not easy to do around the jutting table. Stuart appeared ready to intervene, and I wasn’t sure of the potential outcome.

  “Hey, fellows,” I said, intervening myself. “I’ve already called the police chief. He’s on his way.”

  I wasn’t sure of that, but I certainly hoped so.

  A group of customers walked in, chatting amiably. I knew Gemma had been watching—and listening. And sensibly staying away. But now, as at least today’s manager in charge, she had to go meet the people who wanted to buy books.

  All three men seemed to converge on her.

  “Stay away from me,” she all but hissed, then, shooting a panicked look toward me, turned her back on us and approached the customers.

  “You know, guys,” I said, “Gemma has been my friend for a long time. I suspect that acting this way will make her hate all of you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think all of us,” Lou said in his smooth voice again, irritating the heck out of me.

  Before I could comment further, though, I considered g
iving a sigh of relief. The cavalry had arrived.

  But not the help I’d hoped for. Instead of Justin, Detective Alice Numa strode through the door.

  “I got word of a potential altercation,” she said, walking toward us. “What’s going on?”

  Her eyes were on Lou Landorf, not me.

  “So glad to see you, Detective,” he said, smiling and holding out his hands as if he wanted to grasp hers.

  Something in her gaze momentarily looked warm and pleased, but then she turned toward Frank. “I don’t know you, sir, but I understand you’re making threats against Ms. Grayfield, who is helping out at this store. Is that true?”

  She glanced toward Gemma, who had left the customers near the table containing The Destiny of Superstitions and joined us.

  “I’m afraid so,” she said, then aimed a pleading glance toward Frank. “Please just go home. There’s nothing for you here.”

  “We’ll just see about that.” He looked straight at Lou, pivoted to glare at Stuart, then at me and, at last, he strode from the shop.

  I stared after him, then glanced toward Gemma. She looked beaten. The others must have thought so too. Stuart approached and took her hands sympathetically.

  Lou intervened, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving a squeeze. “So sorry that man is making things difficult for you, my dear.”

  Alice just watched, her expression unreadable. “Well, at least things look better around here now,” she said.

  “Yes, thanks to you,” Gemma said. “It’s lucky that you came here. And right now I need to go back and help those customers.” She didn’t move right away, though.

  “I’m a cop,” Alice said, glaring at her. “Superstitions around here or not, I’m just doing my job.”

  That was when Justin walked in. “Everything all right here?” His head turned as he appeared to take in the entire shop.

  “It is now, thanks to Detective Numa,” I said, wanting to give her credit.