Clockworkers

by Ramsey Isler

  She reached out to press the doorbell, but the door opened before her finger made contact with the little plastic button. As the door opened, soft jazz music filtered out, and Sam saw a short slender woman with kind eyes and the most perfectly sculptured afro she’d ever seen.

  “Hello, Samantha,” Mrs. Hamilton said. Her voice was deep and steady.

  “Uh...Mrs. Hamilton,” Sam said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Come in,” Mrs. Hamilton said. Then she walked away. Sam followed, and her feet sank into plush carpet. She noticed Mrs. Hamilton was barefoot, so she removed her shoes and followed the lady of the house.

  The interior was decorated with vintage furniture and art that fit the theme of the home’s exterior. It seemed the entire place was stuck in a time capsule. Despite being old, the furniture and decorations were in impeccable condition. Either the Hamiltons had taken extreme measures to care for their items over the years, or they’d had some very good contacts in the vintage furniture business.

  Mrs. Hamilton reached a wet bar in the living room just as the music changed to a classic Dave Brubeck piece that Sam only recognized because her father had loved it. “Would you like a drink, honey?” Mrs. Hamilton said. She placed a hand on a crystal decanter full of red wine.

  “I’m okay, thanks,” Sam said. Mrs. Hamilton poured herself a generous portion into a silvery cup with ornate swirls carved into it. Sam had never seen an actual goblet in person, but she imagined that this had to be one.

  “I just wanted to come by and see how you’re doing,” Sam said as she sat on one of the couches. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long, but I’m sure you can imagine how crazy things have been lately.”

  “Of course, honey,” Mrs. Hamilton said before taking a generous sip from her goblet. “This hasn’t been easy for anyone, I’m sure.”

  “You seem to be...holding up well,” Sam said, cautiously.

  “As well as I can, probably.” She took another long drag from her goblet.

  “Well...I think...you know...maybe one day they’ll find him.”

  “You mean his body?” Mrs. Hamilton said.

  “Well...yes. At least that way you’d have some closure.”

  “I don’t need closure. He’s gone. I knew it two weeks ago. I’ve done all the crying I can do. He’s in God’s hands. It’s just about moving on now. I’ve started thinking about what’s next. It’ll be quite some time until he’s declared legally dead, you know. All sorts of problems there, for you too, I bet.”

  “Uh...well...yes,” Sam said. “There are a number of issues that have come up. But I have to say you’re taking a surprisingly practical approach to all this.”

  “I’ve always been practical, honey. That’s why Terry and I got along so well.”

  “I’m...so sorry.” It was the only thing Sam could think of.

  “No need to be,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “It’s not your fault.”

  Sam resisted the urge to wince. She thought she succeeded, but she turned her face away just to be sure.

  “We had thirty-three wonderful years together,” Mrs. Hamilton continued. “It was more than I could ever have hoped for.”

  “He was a good husband?” Sam asked. The question made Mrs. Hamilton’s eyebrows rise. Sam regretted opening her mouth as soon as the words were out. This wasn’t going well.

  “Sorry,” Sam said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Not a problem, honey. I know Terry was a real bastard to his business partners. Back in the day, he’d take me with him to various business dinners and events and I could always tell everyone in the room hated his guts. Eventually I stopped going to those things. I really kept myself out of his business life entirely.”

  “Understandable,” Sam said.

  Mrs. Hamilton nodded. “But he was a completely different man with me. Maybe all that nastiness he let out during the day left nothing but sweetness when he came back home. With me he was kind, and considerate, and he made me feel like the only woman that mattered in the world. When he asked me how my day was, I always felt like he really wanted to know. It wasn’t just some routine. He really cared.”

  “I see,” Sam said.

  “Those are just memories of how things used to be,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “Now I just have to pick up the pieces.”

  “I know what it’s like,” Sam said, “to lose someone you love.”

  “Yes. Terry told me your father died not too long ago.”

  Sam nodded.

  “No offense, honey,” Mrs. Hamilton said with belabored kindness, “but losing a husband ain’t quite the same thing. It’s one thing to love someone, but being in love with someone is a different kind of situation entirely. Know what I’m saying?”

  Sam shrugged. “I suppose.”

  Mrs. Hamilton leaned in close and surveyed Sam with wizened eyes. “Have you ever been in love with someone?”

  Sam shook her head, “No. Can’t say that I have.”

  “One day you will be. And you’ll understand.”

  “We’ll see,” Sam said before she abruptly stood. “In the meantime, please rest assured that I will do whatever I can to help out. If you need it, just ask.”

  Mrs. Hamilton smiled weakly. “Thank you, but I think I’ll be fine. I’ll busy myself with selling the house.”

  “You’re selling it? But it’s a great place. Lots of retro charm.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Hamilton said, “it does have that. But it also has many memories. The house is just a thing, you know. A possession. But every little part of it is like another page in the book we wrote for each other over thirty-three years. And like any good book it can make you laugh, and it can excite you, and it can make you feel the kind of sorrow that sticks with you long after the story is done. I don’t know if that’s even a good description. Can’t quite explain it. Sometimes the things you cherish the most are the things you need to let go of...so you can move on.”

  “That’s one thing I do understand,” Sam said. “All too well.”

  Mrs. Hamilton gave her a simple nod. “Thank you for visiting, Samantha.”

  “Thank you for having me,” Sam said. “I can see myself out. Take care.”

  Chapter 17

  Sam spent the next two days in her house. She spoke to no one. She saw no one. Her contact with the outside world was limited to emails and text messages, and even those were curt conversations. Her only companions were Rupert, and a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Creme.

  Jessica tried to break her out of the funk. She showed up at the house a few times and knocked. Sometimes she spoke through the door, going into long monologues that Sam hardly paid attention to. She appreciated the effort, and she told Jessica as much via text messages, but she just couldn’t face another human being right now. Her talk with Mrs. Hamilton had broken the restraints on the feelings she had tried so desperately to stifle. She needed time to get the guilt back under control.

  She was just pouring another glass of Bailey’s while she sat in her living room and watched some late-night infomercials when the light in the room shifted ever so slightly. From the corner of her eye she saw a new shadow on the floor—a diminutive humanoid form.

  “What do you want, Piv?”

  The visitor walked into her view, and Sam recoiled a little when she saw it was not Piv, but Melkidoodum. “I want many things,” he said. “I want some apples, and a horse ride. But right now I just want to speak with you.”

  “Why?”

  “A sense of responsibility,” Melkidoodum said. “You have given us many interesting things, after all, and in return we have done something to make you sad. That was...not nice of us.”

  “That’s putting it awfully mildly,” Sam said. “But I can’t put all the blame on you guys. It’s like having a pet snake, you know? You can’t blame the snake for getting loose and eating the neighbor’s chihuahua.”

  Melkidoodum just gave her a curious stare.

  Sam placed the cool glass tumbler on her forehead. “You
have anything else to say?”

  “I don’t know you very well,” the elf said, “but I understand you. Just like I understood your father.”

  “Wait a second,” Sam said as she leaned forward in her chair. “You knew Dad too?”

  “I did,” Melkidoodum said. “Piv brought him to our group, many years ago. I never really liked him, but he was useful. He taught us many things. I had never seen a radio until he showed us. But I’ve always felt he learned more from us than he ever gave back. Then again, the Kith do have so much more to offer.”

  “Holy...” Sam pointed at him and her alcohol-addled brain struggled to focus. Suddenly a lot of pieces fit, and Sam knew who Melkidoodum was. He was the impertinent elf her father had written about so often in his journal. He was Snooty.

  “So it’s a small world after all,” Sam said.

  “Yes it is,” Melkidoodum said. “Yes, it is.”

  Sam leaned back in her chair. “So is this the part where you tell me a story about my dad to encourage me to straighten up and act right?”

  “You don’t need that,” Melkidoodum said. “You just need to be who you are.”

  “Uh...what?”

  “Be who you are,” Melkidoodum said. “I have watched your kind for a long time, long enough to understand that not all of you are the same. There are different types of you. Some types would be very upset over what happened to Hamilton. But you’re not that type. No, you’re not that type at all.”

  “Uh huh,” Sam said. “Is that why I’m sequestered in my own house and drinking myself stupid?”

  “No,” Melkidoodum said. “You’re a mess because you’re trying to be another type of person; the type of person that you think you should be. You’re trying to be sorry for it all, but you’re really not. You say all the right things, and you act the right way, but you don’t mean it. You feel guilty, but not because you feel responsible for what happened; you feel guilty because you don’t feel bad that it happened. The truth is that you’re kind of happy this worked out because now Hamilton is not in your way anymore. But you feel bad about that. You feel like a horrible person, and it’s making you sappy in the head.”

  Sam sat there and ran her tongue along her top lip while she thought of something to say. Finally, she said, “I didn’t know the Kith were experts in psychology.”

  “We are not,” Melkidoodum answered. “But we do know a few things about nature; even human nature.”

  Sam took a tiny sip of her drink. “So what do you suggest I do?”

  “The answer is very simple,” Melkidoodum said. “Be who you are.”

  “Even if that means being a horrible person?” Sam said.

  “Most humans are horrible people at some point in their lives,” Melkidoodum said. “You’re not Kith, after all.”

  “Oh really? The Kith were the ones who did the horrible thing that caused this mess in the first place.”

  “No,” Melkidoodum said. “Hamilton encroached on our home and ravaged our friendly crows. That was horrible. But we fixed it. We fix things. That is who we are. Who are you?”

  * * *

  The very next day, Sam followed Melkidoodum’s advice and did the only thing she really knew how to do: she went back to work.

  Everyone in the office greeted her with smiles and waves and gratefulness that her illness had passed. Apparently Jess had told everyone that Sam had caught a bad case of food poisoning and had been practically locked in her bathroom for the past few days. It was not a flattering cover story, but it had kept the staff satisfied. That was a good thing, because the headquarters was now stocked with new recruits. Sam saw at least ten new faces as she made the rounds around the office. Jess and Yusef had been busy in her absence.

  After making her presence known, Sam escaped to her office and dove into dozens of new emails and voice-mails. The messages were mostly normal fare and Sam rolled through them quickly until she reached a voice message from an old gentleman she had only talked to once before.

  Sam rubbed her forehead and winced as the message played out. When it was over, she replayed it again just to make sure she’d gotten everything right. Then she sent Yusef a message to come to her office. He was there promptly, as always, with a look of concern on his face.

  “Our jeweler doesn’t want to work with us anymore,” Sam said to him. “He’s an old buddy of Hamilton’s, and apparently decided he would rather pursue other business now that Hamilton is no longer with us.”

  “Don’t we pay him enough?” Yusef asked.

  “We do,” Sam said. “But he certainly doesn’t need our money. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has another deal lined up already. It’s even possible that he’s made a deal with one of our competitors.”

  “So we need to find a jeweler,” Yusef said.

  Sam nodded and tried to rub away the tension in her neck. “Yup. We’re good on the jewels we use for the bearings in the mechanical systems; those are all synthetic and we can get them from just about anywhere. But the real gemstones are a problem. How much do we have in inventory?”

  “Almost nothing,” Yusef said.

  “That’s...so awesome,” Sam said.

  “Do we have leads for a replacement supplier?” Yusef asked.

  “No. But I’m working on it. I just need you guys to work it out on the back-end. I guess I’ll have Jess get some copy ready for the website and mailing lists to let customers know there may be some delays. I’ll need you to work things out on the order fulfillment side.”

  “I can handle that. You worried about this, Sam?”

  “Worried? No. I’m annoyed. I never liked the business of so-called precious stones in the first place. I think the entire concept is outmoded and ridiculous. They’re just shiny rocks. But people are willing to pay a premium for them, so I can’t complain too much. Besides, the rich clients expect to have bling.”

  “But aren’t you all about changing expectations?” Yusef said. “Aren’t you Sam Chablon, the great iconoclast?”

  “I can’t change everything at once,” Sam said. “And in this case, a stupid tradition works in my favor. Utilizing gems and precious metals in unique ways adds a lot of perceived value to our products. So I guess this crisis also represents some opportunity. And, to be honest, I wasn’t a hundred percent happy with that jeweler anyway. He was stuck in old fashioned ways. We need new approaches, and I think I know someone that can help us find the right jewelry partner going forward.”

  “Who?” Yusef asked.

  “A special friend,” Sam said with a coy smile.

  “You and your secret friends,” Yusef said. “You’re starting to sound like your dad.”

  * * *

  Late that evening, Sam stepped inside the workshop for the first time since she discovered what happened to Hamilton. Many of the Kith were there, and as usual they all ceased working and stared at her when she appeared. Sam was used to it by now, and she paid them no mind. She was looking for Piv, but couldn’t find him. Kibblefor informed her that he was off playing somewhere with Melkidoodum. That left her only one option from the tiny triumvirate, and she found him at his usual workstation in the foundry. The dark little elf smiled when he saw her, and laid down his tools.

  “What do you know about jewels?” Sam asked him.

  “We know a lot about them,” Noc Noc said. “They go in the watches.”

  “Yes,” Sam said, “but those are a different kind of jewel. Those are for functionality, I need jewels that are just really pretty.”

  “We can do that,” Noc Noc said.

  “You can?”

  “The Kith are very handy with gemstones,” Noc Noc said. “Nobody shapes a diamond like we do. In my home forests, during the old days, I used to polish diamonds and give them to the village elders for trade.”

  “What did they give you in return?”

  “Goats,” Noc Noc said.

  Sam laughed. “You traded diamonds for goats?”

  Noc Noc frowned and said, “What�
�s wrong with goats? They’re fun to chase! For a while I had a whole herd to chase around.”

  “Large diamonds are very valuable,” Sam said.

  “For what?” Noc Noc said. “I can do lots of things with goats. I can’t do anything with a sparkly rock.”

  “I share your sentiments,” Sam said. “Although I’m not so sure about the goat thing. But it doesn’t matter what we think; what matters is what everyone else thinks, and they want sparkly rocks. I need our more expensive watches to also be the best jewelry money can buy. That means some very unique gem cutting is needed. Are the Kith up to that challenge?”

  Noc Noc nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now I just need to figure out a way to get the best gemstones for you guys to work with.”

  “Maybe we can solve that problem as well, ” Noc Noc said.

  “How?”

  “There is a jewel company in Tanzania called Kalagho Mining Corporation,” Noc Noc said. “I know their stones. They are quite pretty, and very special even by Kith standards. You will not find stones like that anywhere else.”

  “Well then,” Sam said, “I’d better go look them up.”

  * * *

  “Are you really sure about this?” Yusef said as he closed Sam’s office door and laid a folder full of printouts on her desk.

  “I’m sure,” Sam said, “as long as you are sure they’re as successful as I’ve been told.”

  “No worries there,” Yusef said. “Once I figured out where the hell Tanzania is, I dug into all the info on Kalagho Mining Corporation. Everything I could find is highly praiseworthy. They’ve got the mining industry on the whole African continent worried.”