Jeremy refilled his cup. “Brain’s beginning to function. We need the car today. Why don’t you take Sylvie’s?”
“All right.” She didn’t want to know why they needed the car. The less she thought about the problem, the better she felt. For today, she was going to be Jen, the shopkeeper, working at a normal job she enjoyed.
Chapter 29
The weather had turned chilly. Time to look through the stock for a warm jacket. Jen kept the car running, grateful for the heat. Michael was late. They’d be lucky to open by ten.
At two minutes to ten, Michael pulled into the slot next to hers. “Sorry. I overslept.”
His eyes were dull, but his cheeks were bright. Jen reached up and put the back of her hand to his forehead. “Looks like Lisa gave you a Christmas gift. You’re burning up.”
Michael put a hand on the top of the car to steady himself. “It’s nothing. I took an aspirin and—”
“And you’re studying to be a doctor. You ought to know better than to come into work sick.”
“I can’t be sick. There’s nobody here to open the shop. Mom won’t be back until next week.”
Jen wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being there alone. “Isn’t there anyone else you could call?”
“I can’t think of anyone. I’ll be fine.” Michael flipped the switch for the shop lights with one hand and shielded his eyes with the other. “As soon as the aspirin kicks in.”
“No, you won’t.” Jen steered him through the storage room to the sofa in the office. “Lie down. I’ll be right back.”
Michael’s legs were too long for the sofa, but it was better than nothing. She took the cream satin puff from the Brunovan armchair and a quilt from the rack display.
Michael sat on the sofa shivering. He hadn’t removed his coat. She wrapped the puff around him. “Lie down. Stay warm. If I can’t manage, I’ll call you.”
“Okay. For a few minutes. Just till the aspirin kicks in.”
“They say doctors make the worst patients. You know you ought to go home. Right?”
“Right. Call me if you need me.”
“Absolutely.” And let him infect a few more people? Not. She should have asked Michael if he had a girlfriend. Someone to take care of him.
Since the shop was customer free, Jen indulged herself in a little stage setting.
She placed a porcelain doll with blonde, candlestick curls under the tree. Its white organdy dress contrasted nicely with the floppy-eared toy spaniel. She cut a length of red satin ribbon from a roll at the counter, and made the doll a sash. Lovely.
She re-dressed the mannequin in the crimson, velvet Anne Fogarty dress she’d unpacked yesterday. A dream of a dress. The scooped neckline, short puffed sleeves, and empire waist whispered regency romance.
Sticking a sprig of holly behind the model’s ear, she stepped back to consider the effect. Much more Christmassy. Humming Deck the Halls, she turned on the CD player. Manheim Steam Roller. One of her personal favorites. Michael’s mother had good taste.
She had time to unpack one more box before the front door jingle announced the first customer.
A well-dressed woman in her thirties strode in, wearing a sunflower-yellow, thigh-length flared coat, which Jen would have bought in a second. Jen started to greet her, but the woman was having none of it.
“How much for the dress on the mannequin?” she asked brusquely.
Jen took a breath. She hadn’t the faintest idea. Michael hadn’t priced any of the merchandise she’d unpacked yesterday. “Lovely, isn’t it? I am not sure the owner wants to sell it.”
“I’ll give you twenty dollars for it.” The woman had I found a treasure and the idiot behind the counter has no idea what she has written clear on her face.
“For an Anne Fogarty? That would be a bargain.” The frustrated look in the woman’s eye told Jen she was right on target. Jen named a price well above the offered money.
“That’s absurd. I want to speak to the owner.”
“She’s not available at the moment. But she should be back in a couple of days.” Had she set the price too high?
The woman flounced out of the shop.
Jen shrugged. It would have looked hideous on her anyway. The wrong shade of red for her hair. Jen wished she could have asked her where she bought the coat.
The phone rang. “Good morning.” Cripes. She’d forgotten the name of the store. Some salesperson she was. “How can I help you?”
A voice crackled over the phone. “Hello. Who is this? Where is Michael?”
“He’s not available at the moment. Will I do?”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Jennifer. I work here.”
“Hello, Jennifer. I don’t remember hiring you. Where is Lisa?”
Brilliant. Michael’s mother. Jen couldn’t tell if she was angry or not. The static was annoying. “Lisa got the flu. I came in intending to browse your wonderful merchandise. Michael was struggling by himself. It reminded me of sale day at Selfridges. I felt sorry for him and offered to help out.”
“How nice. Michael always lands on his feet.” The static subsided. Her voice came in clear and husky. “You’re from London. I can tell by your accent. I worked there many years ago. One of the best adventures of my life.”
“Ah.” Jen didn’t know what to say. “Glad to help out.”
“Let me speak to Michael.”
“The thing is, um . . . Michael’s lying down right now in your office.”
His mum’s toned sharpened. “What’s wrong?”
“Flu, I think. He had a high fever when he came in this morning. I told him to go home, but he refused. I made him lie down on the office sofa.”
“Wonderful. That completes this incredibly awful . . .” Her voice was broken by a fit of coughing.
It didn’t sound like his mum was in any shape to come back from wherever she was to help out. Jen heard a thud from the back. “Hold on a minute.” She put down the phone and ran to check. Michael was in the bathroom. The noises from within sounded bad. Jen felt her stomach cringe in sympathy.
She went back to the phone. “Mrs. Walshe, is there anyone who can come and get Michael? I don’t think he should be here. He needs someone to take care of him.”
“His father. I’ll call Bill. He’s the only one who can handle Michael if he’s sick. Both my boys are terrible patients.”
“If your husband could come, that would be wonderful.”
“I can’t leave you to manage on your own. Oh, I wish I could be there. Let me see if I can find one of our old employees.”
“I’m fine for now.” The bell tinkled. “There’s a customer. I have to go. Goodbye.”
Three customers entered. Thankfully, no one wanted the burgundy dress. They prowled the already priced merchandise. At least she’d had the sense not to bring up any of the new clothes from the back.
A friendly-looking woman bought the doll with the candlestick curls. Jen nested the doll in tissue and fitted her into a lidded box. “Shall I gift wrap it?”
The woman reminded Jen of her own mother. “I’ll let my husband wrap it. It’s his Christmas present to me. He’ll be glad I saved him the trouble of shopping. I always do my own shopping. Ever since he bought me a vacuum cleaner for my birthday. It’s easier on the marriage.”
“Good point.” She handed the woman her package.
A tight-lipped older man strode in. “Where’s my son?”
“In the back.”
His smile was too practiced for her tastes. No warmth behind it. “His mother sent up an SOS. Bad timing on Michael’s part. I’ve got a meeting in an hour. I’ll take him back to my house. My wife, Brittany, will look after him. She’s working at home today.”
So he w
as an ex-husband. At least he came for his son.
The phone rang again. Michael’s mother. “Has Bill arrived?”
“Yes. He’s going to take Michael to his house.”
“Excellent. Brittany will take good care of Michael. I called my old partner. Bea says she’ll be glad to help out.”
His mum sounded like a dying bullfrog.
“She lived in Sun Valley, so it won’t be long. Do you mind hanging in? I hate to close during Christmas shopping. It’s our second biggest money maker.”
“I’ll be happy to stay. You have a lovely store and I’m enjoying myself.”
“Bless you. I can’t thank you enough.”
Michael appeared from the back and braced himself in the doorway. “I’m sorry.”
His father looked impatient to be gone.
Jen blew Michael a kiss with the intent of annoying his father. “Go sleep it off, darling. I will always remember our time together. You taught me so much.”
His father appeared faintly mystified. “Come on, son.”
Michael stared at her blearily. “I need to lock up.”
“Your mother said Bea is coming.”
“Bea? That’s all right then.” Michael put the keys on the counter. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re an angel?”
“I promise you, sweetheart, you’re the only one. Now go.”
Alone with a shop full of her kind of treasure. Aside from the fact she had no idea how to handle the money, she could grow to like this. Maybe it was time to consider a career change.
Her throat tightened. Time. How much more did she have?
Chapter 30
The low hum of the lab’s air conditioning system blended with the whir of computer fans, creating a background symphony. Lance’s eyes began to blur from the data scrolling on his screen. A figure popped out at him. “Aha!” He set down his coffee cup with a click. “I’ve got you!”
“Hmmm?” Jeremy didn’t take his eyes off his computer.
“You wined and dined someone at The Albatross last night. Here’s the charge.”
Jeremy blinked. “Does it say who?”
Lance sighed. “It’s numbers, Jeremy. Numbers on your credit card statement. Barclaycard doesn’t say whom you dined with. You’ve also purchased tickets for the Royal Ballet. Either very expensive seats or you shouted a lot of people to a bout of culture.”
Jeremy massaged the tension lines between his eyebrows. “That would be the family gathering to see The Nutcracker. A tradition I wish I’d never started. I hate the ballet.”
“Then why did you start it?”
“Because Kathryn adored it from the time she was three. I wanted to give her something to think about besides her mother’s desertion. Jen suggested we make it a family gathering. With a huge tea afterward.”
“I understand going once, but why did you keep it up?”
“If you were a parent, Lance, you would know if a child loves something it instantly becomes a tradition.”
He would have liked the chance to find out. “Is that why you always had pizza on Fridays?”
“Yes. Congratulations. Your program works. Would I could say the same about mine.”
“Problems?”
“Nothing but. It’s an odd calibration. I have to get us as close to the moment as I can without missing it. Otherwise . . .” Jeremy swiveled his chair around. “Can your program search without you being here?”
“Yes. It’s got a long way to go before we get to a point where I can retrieve any information about me. You were easy. Mine’s going to be more difficult. I thought I’d trace you back to 2001 and see where we intersected.”
“Right. Come with me, then. I need to talk to Aaron Harris.”
“The Aaron Harris. The man who invented the Nebula formula?” Lance had read everything he’d written back in 1988. There was surely more to read now.
“Yes. And the only man besides you who knows what I’m doing. I need his input.”
~ ~ ~
Aaron’s mountaintop home was most impressive. The security gates would have looked good in Versailles. Lance gazed down the hill where the spire of some church pierced the brown haze covering the city. “Nice view.”
Jeremy nodded. “When the smog clears, you can actually catch a glimpse of Santa Monica beach.”
Aaron Harris’s author picture failed to give any idea of the energy field emanating from the man. His mahogany skin had few lines, but his hair had gone gray. He’d also grown a pointed beard, which made him look like a genial devil. His T-shirt sported the slogan Come to the Dark Side. We have cookies. “I just mixed up some wheatgrass and yogurt. Want some?”
Jeremy shuddered. “No. But I’d take some of the green tea you’re so fond of.”
“If you took more care with what you put in your body —”
“Don’t start, Aaron.”
Aaron shrugged. He turned and shouted, “Elena, Té por favor para el señor loco y his sidekick.”
“I appreciate you asking Elena for tea,” Jeremy said, “but I wish you’d stop telling her to call me Senor Crazy.”
“It’s a term of endearment.” Aaron put out his hand to Lance. “I’m Aaron Harris and you must be Lance Davies. I have to ask. How does it feel to be dead?”
“I’m not dead.”
“As far as time is concerned, you are. You’re one of the displaced ones. I’ve been working on a theory. I think displacement is what happened in a lot of disappearance cases. Jimmy Hoffa for instance. No body. Possible time displacement. Do you have any feeling of being out of dimension?”
Aaron didn’t wait for an answer. He seated himself on the sofa, folding his legs into lotus position. “I’ve gone over the data you sent me. I’ve been running some scenarios. The trick is to displace as few people as possible. Time can be changed. The fact you actually have two displaced people at your disposal proves it has been done. They would not be alive in this time if they could not be reinserted into the continuum.”
“Inserted?” Was he going to take the place of his self who died?
Aaron steepled his fingers. “My theory is, if you manage to deflect the persona away from the point where the death took place, the you who is here now, will simply merge with your other persona and go forward from there.”
Lance tried to assimilate what Aaron meant. “If we merge with our then-time selves, what happens to our memories of this time and place?”
“I’m not sure. I’m hoping you’ll find a way to tell me.”
Jeremy broke in. “The displacement theory is interesting, but I don’t think it’s correct, Aaron. I believe it’s possible we can deflect the death, come back to this here and now in 2006, and then return Lance to the time from where he came.”
A smiling woman in her seventies placed a tray with handle-less cups and a clear glass teapot in front of them.
“Gracias, Elena.” Aaron poured the tea. He raised his cup to each of them in turn. “May fortune and bright beauty attend you.”
Lance followed Jeremy’s gesture, saluting as Aaron did.
“So the eventual goal is to return Lance to 1988?” Aaron asked. “With memories intact?”
“I think it can be done,” Jeremy said. “The question I have, is how soon do we need to intercede? A week? Two weeks? Or do we have to wait for the event to happen?”
“I would say the closer you get to the event, the better your chances.” Aaron’s expression darkened. “I’ve been running all the footage I could find. It’s hard to watch.” He looked at Lance. “It must be strange knowing what happened, without experiencing it on a cellular level, the way all of us alive at the time experienced it.”
“Believe me. It feels bad enough now.” Lance tried to imagine actually being there. No u
se.
Aaron turned to Jeremy. “Based on what you told me about your sister, I think I’ve come up with an equation. When E equals MC squared . . .”
Jeremy frowned. “Einstein came up with that one, Aaron. Stop larking about.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. You didn’t let me finish.”
Lance let Aaron’s voice lapse into white noise. Merge memories with a self he didn’t know? Whose memories would survive? Was he going to lose his memories of this week? No. He’d rather be a displaced person forever than lose those. He wanted to hear Jen’s voice.
Jeremy’s exclamation pulled him back to the conversation. “By George, I think you’ve got it.”
Aaron looked smug. “Of course I have.”
Jeremy was cheerier than he’d seen him in a long time. “I really think we have a chance.”
What had he missed?
Chapter 31
The door shut behind Michael. Jen felt like an understudy, not quite sure of her cues. She was on her own till the Bee person showed up.
She put the checks from the morning purchases next to the cash register, entertaining herself with a mental image of a person named Bee. A cozy, round female with a buzzy voice?
Her purse rang. Sylvie. “Good morning, Sylvie. I took your car to work.”
“I’ll come round then. I want to prowl your shop again.”
“You sound much cheerier than an evening of drinking warrants.”
“My agent called. I’ve got an interview for a gig as spokesperson for Kizzles tomorrow. Imagine! Commercials can make you rich and famous overnight. Spokespeople make fabulous loot.”
“I wouldn’t know. Never had that kind of audition.” She’d never wanted it.
“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t be such a snob. Not all of us can afford to give our all to art. Commercials are God’s little reward for underpaid actors.”
Maybe This Time (A Second Chance Romance) Page 14