***
Chapter 21
“Not like that,” Holl said sternly, early the next morning. “I can still see you. You want to lead my eye away from you.” Keith, flattened against the wall of the farmhouse living room, thought harder about not being there. He edged slightly to the right, and was pleased to see Holl’s gaze stay fixed on the same spot.
“Now I can see you,” Enoch said. Keith shifted back the other way, and Holl looked him straight in the eye.
“This doesn’t work so well on more than one person,” Keith complained. Holl reached up and tapped him on the chest.
“You’re concentrating on the wrong thing. Don’t think of you. Make something else the focus of all attention. Use your strength to make an object so attractive that no one will be able to resist looking at it. It can be anything. The lamp. A scrap of paper. A vase of flowers. A pigeon.”
Keith grinned. “I can see having these guys run after a flying pigeon. They’ll wake up wondering why they’re miles across the city.”
“It’s momentary,” Enoch said sternly. “That’s why it can be such a strong effect.”
“I get it,” Keith said. Marm came through at that moment, carrying a ball of twine and a pair of scissors. Evoking all the energy he could, Keith applied the attraction to the plump brewer. Involuntarily the other two elves’ heads turned toward their fellow as he stumped toward the basement steps.
“What are you two looking at?” Marm asked, puzzled. Keith took the opportunity to scoot across the room and seat himself on a footstool near the fireplace. When Holl and Enoch came around to face him again, Holl was smiling and Enoch had his brows raised.
“Well,” said Enoch at last. “No one should be surprised any longer by your proficiency.”
“Not bad for a shirt-tail relative, huh?” Keith asked, grinning so wide he could have swallowed his ears.
The two elves looked at one another. “If there was ever a Big Person I’d consider being related to …” Holl began.
“Don’t push too much,” Enoch said, interrupting his brother-in-law but looking at Keith.
“Oh, well,” Keith said cheerfully. “A guy’s got to try.”
“You need more practice,” Enoch said. “One more time.”
“Have a heart!” Keith said, trying to look pathetic. “I’m starved. I can smell breakfast from here.”
Holl looked at him slyly. “If you can sneak out into the kitchen without us seeing you, you can eat.”
“Ah, yur a turrible, turrible hard taskmaster. Both of you.”
Tiron stuck his head into the room.
“The orders are ready,” he said, with a wink at Keith. “Is the delivery van ready to roll?”
“Saved by the bell,” Keith said, wiping his forehead with an exaggerated gesture of relief. “How are the samples coming?”
“Ready for you when you go home,” the Irish elf declared positively. “And you’ll never see finer.”
“I bet,” Keith said, looking at his watch. Everyone seemed cheerful that morning. It was such a pleasant change from the last several weeks. Keith felt good, too. Despite his long drive the night before and the worries that followed he felt refreshed. “Oh, boy. I’d better get going. I’ll be late for class. I’ll get them later, Tiron. Thanks again for taking the time to show me, guys. I was just too excited to wait for Sunday.”
“It’s a small thing,” Enoch said as Keith went out the door. The two males heard a squawk of protest from one of the morning’s cooks as the Big student filched three muffins out of a basket about to be set on the table.
“Vhy do you denigrate his accomplishment?” the Master asked from his big chair near the window.
“Well, he never saw you, did he?” Enoch countered. “You’ve been here throughout, and he didn’t sense you once.”
“But that vas not the subject of this lesson, vas it?” his father asked mildly. “He understoot the teaching very vell, and made use of it most creatively.” The Master smiled. “He took advahntage of the arrival of Marm to show you vhat he had learned. I gif him high marks for that. But to be able to mislead your eyes at all—who vould haf expected that vun of the Big Folk could efer haf done it? He has advanced farther than efen I vould haf thought possible vitout training, or the assistance of a device. He is extraordinary among his kind.”
Enoch shook his head. “That’s exactly why I didn’t want to make a fuss. If that notion was anywhere in the back of his mind, he might freeze at a time when he needs to use the skill. I want him to think anyone who studies hard enough can do it.”
“Ah. Misdirection.” The Master’s eyes twinkled. “I hope that your purpose does not backfire and leaf him helpless vhen he most needs the skills.”
Holl laughed. “Keith Doyle? He’s as resourceful as a backwoodsman. If one thing doesn’t work, he’ll try another. When have you ever known him to give up?”
The Master looked grave. “Nefer. But he has chosen much too heavy a schedule this year. I vorry that he is growing too tired to make intelligent choices.”
“Ah,” said Holl. “Now that I can do nothing about.”
* * *
“Well, well, strangers,” Ms. Voordman said, looking up as the bell hanging over the front door of Voordman’s Country Crafts jingled. Keith edged his other foot in the glass door and nudged it open far enough to carry in the huge box in his arms. Diane was close behind him with a small carton. The proprietress, a slim, well-groomed, dark-haired woman somewhere in her forties, gave Diane a peck on the cheek. “Welcome! Is this my holiday order?”
“Yup,” Keith said. “Everything. Plus, we’d like you to look at a couple of things.”
“I’m sure I’ll love them,” Ms. Voordman said. “Come on back. I have fresh coffee. Hot,” she added, glancing out the door at the falling snow. “This is getting ugly. I will either have a lot of business this evening, or none at all.”
“I’d love some coffee,” Diane said gratefully. “It feels like we’ve been driving forever, but it’s only been about an hour.” She held up the box. “Do you want me to stock these?” Diane had worked for Ms. Voordman during her freshman and sophomore years and knew the business well.
The shop owner shook her head. “If you’ll just help me unwrap them that would be fine. I’ll take care of the busywork after you go. How often do I have a chance to chat with you?”
Diane looked pleased. “Thanks.”
“I have to get the other two boxes out of the trunk,” Keith said, pulling the door open. “Be right back. Don’t wait for me.”
Few cars passed the small parking lot in the gathering gloom. Keith looked at the sky, hoping it would clear up before Monday. He didn’t relish another drive like the one the night before.
He hauled the second box out of the trunk and piled the third box on top of it. In order to carry both through the doorway he had to bend his knees slightly, but he made it. The doorbell jangled behind him. Ms. Voordman peered around the tower of cardboard.
“Very nice,” she said approvingly. She pointed at the floor next to the cash register. “Just set them down here.”
Keith rubbed feeling back into his hands and stamped snow off his shoes. “Where’s Diane?” he asked.
“In the back.” The shop owner paused, her normally sharp brown eyes studying him with worry. “Keith, we’ve known one another a few years. As a friend, I’d like to say something. You can tell me it’s none of my business.”
“Sure,” Keith said, concerned at the serious expression on the older woman’s face.
After a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard, Ms. Voordman lowered her voice. “I think of Diane as my own daughter. I know how she feels about you.”
“Well, I feel the same way,” Keith said. “I mean, I love her.”
“Good. You should show it a little better than you have been. She’s feeling neglected. You ought to spend some more time with her.”
“I know,” Keith said wit
h a sigh. He kicked the lower carton with the side of his foot. “I’m so busy this year. I wish I had more time.”
“Make some,” Ms. Voordman advised him, in the direct way she had. He raised his eyebrows.
“I must be in real trouble,” Keith said playfully.
“Don’t joke, young man. She’s worth taking care for.”
“I know,” Keith said, his narrow face serious. “I love her so much, I couldn’t imagine the rest of my life without her.”
“Don’t tell me, tell her!” Ms. Voordman smiled at Diane, who came out of the back room with two cups of coffee in her hand. She gave one of them to Keith. “Now, please let me see the specials you brought me.”
* * *
Keith took Ms. Voordman’s advice to heart.
After the bad start the weekend turned out to be wonderful. The weather improved so that the setting sun threw red and orange rays over a glistening, white landscape that raised Keith’s spirits and filled him with enthusiastic plans. A new restaurant specializing in Indian cuisine had opened up near the university. Keith took Diane there that evening. Though unfamiliar, the food was good enough to earn Diane’s critical approval. They lingered over rich, gooey desserts and sweet, milky tea, enjoying the exotic music that went so well with the food. Keith made sure that she enjoyed herself, taking care to defer to her, and let her do most of the talking. He felt rewarded by the pleasure shining from her eyes. Mentally, he thanked the shop owner for giving him a nudge to remember what was most important in his life. He didn’t mention the near-collision or the encounter with the man from Chicago, judging that the news would only frighten her and ruin a happy time. Nothing had happened, anyhow.
When he returned to the farm Sunday morning it was with fresh orders in hand. One was from Ms. Voordman. She’d been very impressed by the original sculptures, and put in an order for three small pieces valued between $100 and $300 to put in the glass case she reserved for special items. A couple more of their old clients asked for one each, but even a single art piece made the little cash register in Keith’s mind go ka-ching!
“They’ll really be thrilled about this,” Keith kept telling Diane. At the back of his mind he mulled over the shop owner’s words about his girlfriend, watching her face out of the corner of his eye as he drove. She seemed perfectly contented to share in the Little People’s good fortune. He began to think ahead of things he could do to please her. She liked yellow flowers. Maybe he could have a surprise bouquet sent to the food service facility where she worked, to arrive in the middle of the week.
More good news awaited them at the farm. Marcy must have heard the Mustang crunching up the drive, because she and Enoch were waiting for them at the kitchen door. Her milk-white face was flushed with pink. Enoch, as usual, looked dour but grimly pleased.
“My folks called,” she said, her eyes dancing with excitement. “They want to meet Enoch.”
“That’s great!” Keith exclaimed.
“How wonderful!” Diane said, hugging Marcy. “I’m so happy for you.”
Marcy returned the embrace, and turned to give Keith a shy hug. He put an arm around her awkwardly, aware of Enoch’s gimlet eye on him.
“Thanks,” Marcy said. “Dad said it was after you came to see him the second time that he really started thinking. He’s all set to approve, I can tell. They’re coming down here this week. We want to get married around Christmas. Will you come?”
“You bet,” Keith said.
“Try and stop us,” Diane said positively. “This is terrific news.”
“We’ve got so many plans to make,” Marcy said, as though she still couldn’t believe her own words. “They’re going to come to dinner—should they meet everyone at once? Would that be too much?”
The Master gathered them up for class, causing the question to be tabled in favor of the musings of Aristotle.
* * *
By the time they finished with the session in the quiet corner of the barn, the sky was clear and blue with a few wisps of cirrus cloud pointing in the direction of the departed storm. Keith pulled his hat down over his ears, but the wind didn’t seem as cold as it had before.
“Look at that,” Tiron cackled. He, Enoch and Holl were helping Keith carry armloads of swaddled sculpture up the slope to his car. Marcy and Diane trailed behind, picking their way carefully. “The gods are so eager to see the back of you that they’ve cleared the weather to speed your departure.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Keith said, concentrating on not slipping.
“You’re permitted to let any of the galleries keep these works to sell,” Catra said, trotting beside him in the snow. She offered a sheaf of papers in a manila folder. “Here is one invoice for each piece so that they all do not have to go to one place.” Her face and ears were pink from the wind, but she was so absorbed in her task that she didn’t realize she had come out without a coat. “I am keeping a central list, but here is a copy for you. Tell us who takes what. And we will accept commissions.”
“Gotcha,” Keith said, sticking out two fingers to take the folder.
“I’ve got it,” Diane said, accepting it for him. She pulled the hood of her parka tighter around her face. “Go inside! I’m freezing just looking at you.”
Keith stowed the packages in his trunk with a blanket tucked around them so they wouldn’t roll around. He slammed the trunk lid. “There! Ready to take to the snooty side of town.”
“Our thanks, Keith Doyle,” Catra said. “I would like to hear all details of your discussions with the buyers, and any comments they have.”
“I’ll even tape record them, if you want.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Enoch said sourly.
Diane huddled into her coat and moved her feet. “It’s too cold. I’m going to go. Call me?” she asked Keith.
“Of course,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “Soon as I get home. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Diane said. She glanced over his shoulder at Marcy, standing a little way off with Enoch, and felt a touch of envy for their happiness. “Promise me something?”
“Sure,” Keith said at once. He raised his right hand. “I solemnly swear I will buy a black Armani shirt when I get home and wear it to the galleries.” He leaned down into the circle of her down jacket’s hood to kiss her.
“Good,” Diane said. She paused a moment, thinking she might say something more, and decided not to. “Bye.” She went to her car and got in.
Keith noticed the troubled expression on her face, and thought of running after her. Was she still worried about her schoolwork? He thought they’d made real headway on Saturday. He shook his head. She’d be all right. He’d write her a long, loving letter as soon as he got back to Chicago. But why wait? He could dictate it on the way. He patted the little tape recorder in his coat pocket.
“Do you need to rush off?” Holl asked him. “Would you like a warming cup before you go?”
“That’d be great,” Keith said, forgetting what he was thinking about. He wanted to take advantage of the relaxed feel of the farm. He couldn’t put his finger on what was different, but the elves seemed happier and less pressured. Maybe whatever had been bothering them had gone away. “Now that it’s clear it ought to be a pretty easy ride home. I can stick around for a little while.”
“Let’s not go in,” Holl said. “I’ll bring some hot cider out here. I hate to shut out such a glorious sky. You wouldn’t be too cold, would you?”
“No. I’m fine.” Keith brushed off a stair tread at the bottom of the kitchen steps and sat down on it. His jacket was too short to shield his bottom from the cold board. He got up and used a little of his new heat charm to warm it to a comfortable level. When he looked up, Holl had returned and was watching him.
“Did Enoch teach you to do that?” Holl asked.
“Nope,” Keith said. “I figured it out all on my own. I know he didn’t want me doing anything big, but something this small shouldn’t attract anybody’s attenti
on, would it?”
“I hope not,” Holl said. He handed Keith his unicorn mug and sat down beside him. He wondered if Dola had talked. But she’d been adamant in her protestations that she had not, and that Keith had not pressed her once she had asked him not to. So were they broadcasting their fears to him in a way that he’d understand? Holl had always scoffed at Keith’s protestations that the Big and Little Folk were related, especially with regard to him, but he had a sensitivity rarely seen in those of his kind. What had he picked up, anything about the monster troubling them? There hadn’t been any fresh incidents in the last forty-eight hours, but the boy was sensitive. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but he pushed the question back into his mouth. The Master would have a few words to say to him if he broke confidence now.
“Ah, luxury,” Keith said, stretching his legs out in front of him. He took a deep drink of the fragrant spiced cider. It warmed him all the way down inside, but not as much as having his best friend beside him, behaving normally again. Holl filled his pipe and lit it, sending a jet of smoke toward the distant horizon. It was cold, but one of those crisp, still, cool evenings full of peace.
“It’s going to be a handsome sunset,” Holl said. “I love being able to sit out here, feeling infinity before me, as though I could reach out and touch the edges of forever. Soon the sky will be full of stars. I look up, and I still marvel that it’s not a ceiling, with a sunset we made ourselves out of light-strips. I love this place.”
“I do, too,” Keith said, feeling solemn. “Every time I come here I still get a thrill out of it. Every time I go I hate to leave. Sometimes when I’m watching the house disappear behind the trees, I wonder if it’ll be the last time I ever see it, forever. I hope that will never happen, so I try to enjoy it while I can.”
“This is a philosophical side of you I’ve never seen,” Holl said, surprised.
“Maybe it’s maturity,” Keith said, turning to him with a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a rep to protect.”
Advanced Mythology Page 25