Tressa's Treasures (The King's Jewel Book 1)

by Gordon, Belinda M

  "Come on, Ida, let's take this in the back and slice it up," Holly said. "Matt, you want a piece?"

  "Thanks, but I better not. I've got a lunch in a few minutes."

  He watched her leave the room with Ida by her side.

  "You know, she doesn't remember me from high school," Matt said, "but I sure remember her. She was a year ahead of me and she was something else."

  "Really? What was she like?"

  "She was an angel. Everyone's dream girl. She was a cheerleader, homecoming queen, always the center of attention. But she wasn’t just popular—she was really sweet to everyone. Even a science geek like me." He smiled ruefully.

  He hesitated then, as if not sure he should continue.

  "She seems different now."

  "She's still very sweet." Even as I defended her, I knew she wasn't the vibrant girl he had just described.

  "She is, but subdued somehow. Her eyes are so sad." This was an unusual observation for a man, and completely true. "And she never used to wear so much makeup."

  I chuckled. Now that sounded more typical, especially from a man who appreciates nature.

  The other women returned, each holding a paper plate with a slice of pie. Holly perched on the stool behind the counter to eat hers. Ida handed me the other. I ate a forkful to be polite before setting the plate down on the counter.

  The older woman made a show of looking over the broken display cabinet, which still lay on the floor. It wasn't much more than a wooden frame, now that the glass doors and sides had broken out.

  Her investigation seemed to remind Matt of his purpose.

  "Tressa, where should I put this?" he asked, righting the broken cabinet.

  "Would you put it in the back of the storage room? Anywhere that's out of the way is fine." I would decide later if it was worth repairing.

  He gripped it carefully so as not to cut his hands and slid it out of the room.

  "Tressa, I hear you were the hero yesterday," Ida said.

  "Oh? What did you hear?" I asked, stiffening with worry. This must be why she had come—to create drama. She would probably talk about this incident for days.

  "I heard you stood up to Fred. It was about time someone did. And, oh dear, so much damage to your pretty little store," Ida said with undue sadness.

  "It was nothing," I said, careful not to give her anything to add to her gossip.

  Holly had flushed at Ida’s words. She dropped her plate of half-eaten pie onto the counter, grabbed the broom, and went back to brushing the glass and china fragments into the dustpan.

  "We have it nearly all cleaned up," she said as she dumped the last bit of broken glass into the box.

  "You've done a good job," Ida said, nodding her head. "But all that beautiful china! And it isn't just that it was imported. People collect that stuff. It must be expensive! And the cabinet needs to be fixed... It's really going to add up." She shook her head, dismayed.

  Holly's face paled with each word she spoke. I pursed my lips to hold back the anger building in me. Ida didn't seem to see what she was doing to Holly.

  "Pix, don't worry. It wasn't your fault and it's not that much money," I told her.

  The damage would be costly by Holly's estimations, but I wasn't worried about the money.

  "Of course it's not your fault, Holly!" Ida said indignantly. "It's that oafish husband of yours."

  I knew Ida had meant to make her feel better, but instead, tears welled up in Holly's eyes.

  "It's almost noon," Matt said. None of us had noticed him come back into the room. "They must be busy next door with the lunch crowd."

  "I suppose I should go," Ida said reluctantly. A moment later, the door chimes rang out, distracting her from this thought.

  Matt looked at me with lifted eyebrows as if to say, “I tried.” He grabbed the box with the broken glass and headed back toward the storage room. I followed him with the broom and dustpan, leaving Holly to deal with the newly arrived customers.

  Matt carried the box through the back door to the dumpster. He came back in and glanced at his watch.

  "Tressa, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'm supposed to meet Xander for lunch in ten minutes."

  Please don't apologize. I'm grateful for your help."

  He nodded to acknowledge my thanks.

  "Like I said, it was Xander's idea. I'm on the clock, and I'd rather be with you lovely ladies than looking at his ugly mug."

  "Why do you call him Xander? Isn't Alex the common nickname for Alexander?" I was just too curious to restrain myself from asking.

  Matt chuckled before answering my question.

  Xander is what his men called him. We thought it sounded like the name of a comic book superhero. He has deadly reflexes and unbelievable instincts, and a real 'might for right' attitude that sometimes makes him seem larger than life."

  I smiled, amused. "Well if that's so, I surely do not want to be on his bad side. Let's get you out of here."

  We returned to the showroom together. Ida was gone and Holly was busy waiting on customers. Matt hesitated, clearly wanting to say goodbye to her. When it became obvious she would be some time, he waved to her and hurried out of the store.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I went into the small room where I create my jewelry. My worktable is against a wall with a cutout into the showroom. The back of the table protrudes six inches into the other room.

  This setup allows me to see the showroom, the door, and part of one window while I work. Visitors to the store can also watch me work if they so choose.

  I uncovered the filigree and amethyst bracelet I had been working on the previous day. I held it up to examine my work under the light before deciding how to proceed.

  A few minutes later, after her last customer had gone, Holly came over to the worktable. She leaned against it with her elbows. I looked up at her expectantly, however, she wasn't looking back at me. She fidgeted with the sleeve of her blouse, her gaze turned down. Her clouded expression took me off guard. I put the unfinished bracelet, now forgotten, back on the table.

  "Tressa, I've got something to tell you. Some news. Good news," she clarified, but her voice held only worry.

  "You don't sound very happy."

  "No, I'm happy, but—" She shook her head. Before she could continue, the door chimed.

  Tom Lynch entered the store. He wore his navy police uniform and a serious expression. As with the night before, he entered cautiously, as if he didn't want to be there.

  Holly cursed under her breath, and I couldn't help but agree with her. I wanted this whole ugly incident behind me.

  "Hey Tommy, what's up?" Holly asked, trying a bit too hard to be nonchalant.

  "Actually, I need to speak to Tressa."

  He walked halfway to me then stopped. I saw the reluctance in his hazel eyes. Whatever he had come to say, he didn't look forward to it. I tensed. It must be something unpleasant.

  "Of course," I said. I went back out to the showroom. "Good to see you again." I smiled at him politely.

  He dropped his head and shoved his thumbs into his gun belt.

  "Well, I doubt that."

  The three of us stood in awkward silence. While I waited for him to continue, he shifted his weight uncomfortably.

  "Well, you probably know that Holly decided not to press charges against Fred over last night's... blowup."

  I looked at Holly pointedly. However, I didn't correct him.

  "You had a considerable amount of damage to the store. So what do you want to do about making charges yourself?"

  I sighed. I truly wanted this incident behind me, and I didn't want further involvement. However, I didn't understand what Holly was thinking. She had taken the hardest step toward getting rid of this man when she left him. Why let him get away with this now?

  "Tressa, please, I really need to speak to you for a second before you say anything." Holly tugged my forearm and led me a few feet away.

  "What's this about, Pix?"

  "
Tressa, I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you before he got here."

  I made a waving gesture with my hand, encouraging her to move the story along.

  "Last night I called Tommy back to the emergency room and told him it had been an accident—that Fred had been so drunk he fell and hit me."

  "Why did you do that?" I asked. "Even if that were true, he meant to hit you again, and he’s hurt you so many times before this."

  "That's just it. He was going to hit me again, and he didn't. He got ahold of himself and walked away. Don't you see?" she pled. "He's never been able to do that before. He’s never stopped before passing out, to be honest. I think my leaving has affected him, made him at least begin to understand that he needs to change."

  A two-pronged disgust ran over me: disgust at her description of Fred's past behavior and disgust that my own behavior had resulted in her thinking better of him.

  I had already decided, although I didn't want to, that I would need to go along with her new story, but she wasn’t finished.

  "There's a more important reason I need you to let it go." She looked down shyly, her expression unreadable. "They told me something last night in the emergency room. I'm—I’m pregnant. I'm having a baby." Once she broke the news, her words came out in a rush. "I didn't know before. It's early on—just the second month—so it's really too soon to tell people, but... I'm due in October."

  A baby. I felt as though she had punched me in the stomach. Instinctively, I placed a comforting hand on my abdomen. A shocked numbness spread across me. A baby for her—with this despicable man, and in this terrible situation?

  I felt another blow at my jealous and ungracious thoughts. A baby was always a blessing, no matter the circumstances. I took a second to pull together an appropriate outward reaction.

  "Pix, that is some news. A baby..." It was the absolute best I could do at that moment. "But what does this have to do with our guest?" I pointed the top of my head toward Tom, who continued to shift his weight from one foot to the other while he waited.

  "If Fred is arrested for this, he’ll lose his job. No matter what he's done, I need his financial help to raise this baby."

  The fight just flew out of me. She was rationalizing this to fit some happy ending scenario, but I didn't have it in me to try bringing her to her senses.

  I nodded. I would do as she asked. She smiled, and her face glowed with happiness as I went back over to Tom.

  "Well, I suppose since Mr. Moyer was drunk and not in control of his actions, I'm okay with dropping the whole thing... this time."

  His expression remained grim.

  "He won't come in here and bother you ever again. I swear." He spoke with an intensity that made me wonder what had taken place between the two men.

  "I know he won't," I said truthfully.

  We shook hands and Tom left the store. I suppose I remained still after he left, staring at nothing, for too long.

  "Tressa, are you all right?" Holly asked from behind me.

  I didn't turn around. I couldn't be with her right then; I needed some breathing room.

  "Holly, I have a bit of a headache. If you're okay here, I think I'll go home."

  "Sure, yeah, I'm good. You go ahead."

  I awoke from a nap feeling slightly better for having caught up on my sleep and decided a walk to the lake would help lift my spirits. I grabbed my violin before leaving the house, remembering Brenna's request from earlier that morning.

  The air outside, laced with the smell of nature reawakening, was surprisingly warm for March. The forsythia bushes along the side of the farmhouse had begun to bloom, and daffodils were sprouting throughout the landscape.

  There was a blue truck parked in the driveway I shared with the guesthouse. I assumed it was Alexander's. I looked around to see if he was within eyesight. When I didn't see him, a strange tinge of disappointment ran over me.

  I did, however, notice Sophia in the distance with my grandmother in the rock garden that surrounded the main house. Mamó leaned heavily on the cane she relied on since her stroke.

  It pleased me to see Shamus hovering, as usual. He wouldn't let her do anything she shouldn't, like pull weeds or rearrange the stones.

  I couldn't hear their conversation, but I knew from the way Mamó leaned in toward Sophia and ran her finger over the leaf she held that she was teaching the child about the plants. She had done the same with me when I was young, as well as several generations of Sidhe children.

  I didn't linger to watch them for fear that my grandmother would wave me over to join them. Instead, I strolled lazily down to the lake, taking my time and enjoying the transformation happening around me. The woods behind the lake had a red tinge from the buds that covered the tree branches. The grass was turning from brown to a vibrant, yellowish green.

  Yellow flowers covered the forsythia bushes in the landscaping around the glider. The leaf buds on the taller trees would burst open over the next week or two.

  I settled comfortably onto the glider and scanned the area as I tuned the violin strings, but I didn't see any of the Pixies. Without an audience to please, I made a selection to please myself and played a slow, melancholy ballad perfectly aligned with my mood.

  I closed my eyes as I played to fully experience the tautness of the strings beneath my fingers and the emotions evoked by the music. My hands lingered in position after the final note, letting the sound linger in the air.

  "Not too late," someone whispered, and I opened my eyes. Brenna hovered next to my ear. She flew to my shoulder and sat, knees bent to her chest.

  "It is too late, Precious Brenna." I caught the sadness in my voice and cleared my throat.

  Brenna pouted, crossing her arms and shaking her head stubbornly. I let the subject go and started playing another melancholy tune. When the song ended, I told her what I had been thinking.

  "These humans become pregnant with such recklessness. It doesn't matter if their relationship is stable, if they are in a good situation to raise a child, or even if they are fit to be a parent.

  "Meanwhile we Sidhe folk, with all our abundant resources and who raise children as a community, only become pregnant under perfect circumstances. It hardly seems fair." I swallowed hard, pushing down the injustice.

  "Not fair. Not too late," Brenna said sagely. "Play jig please." The tone of her voice made it more a demand than a request.

  She flew down to join her sisters, who were now sitting on stones near my feet. While I played, the three of them danced in a circle, holding hands. I continued at once into another song in the same mode, finishing this one with a bit of flourish.

  The Pixies dropped London Bridge style to the ground in a fit of giggles. I surprised myself by laughing with them.

  "Now what, ladies?" I asked, eager to continue the effects of their frivolity on my mood.

  The three of them scrambled to their feet, Kerry doing a somersault before standing. Once on her feet, Megan cartwheeled into Brenna, knocking them both to the ground again. I laughed for a second time at their silliness.

  ALEXANDER

  I did a few good stretches, grabbing each foot one at a time and pulling it up toward my rear. When I felt nice and loose, I took my therapy ball from my pocket. I was used to squeezing it as I ran to strengthen my weak hand. After shaking each leg out in turn, I started a slow jog, heading toward the woods in the distance.

  I increased my speed until I reached a comfortable pace. When I came to the end of the clearing, I found a faint trail that ran in front of the tree line and looked as if it would wind around the lake. I took up the path.

  I quickly got into the zone-that place where you know nothing but the sensation of using your muscles and the rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other.

  The scenery was peaceful. The forest, on one side of me, was just beginning to show signs of spring. On the other side, the trees were reflected in the water. The late afternoon sun shone in my eyes.

  I was just beginning to tire when I
rounded the far end of the lake, putting the sun to my back. As I ran towards home, music broke the silence, slow and moody at first but then abruptly bright and cheerful. As I came closer to the source, it stopped with a fanfare. In the silence, I heard someone speaking.

  I came around a row of trees and stopped short. Tressa sat in front of me, violin in hand. It struck me each time I saw her: She was gorgeous.

  "Oh, hey," I said.

  I gasped once or twice for air, more winded than I should have been. I looked around to see who she was talking to, but no one was there.

  "Looking for something?" she asked.

  "I thought you were talking to someone."

  She looked up and smiled at me. Well, not really at me. It seemed like she was looking around my head, not actually at my face, but her smile seemed genuine even if her eyes looked wary.

  "No, just speaking to myself. 'Tis a bad habit, I know." She set the violin into the case next to her on the glider.

  That answer didn't feel right to me. In fact, it felt like someone was watching us. I looked around again, but I still didn't see anyone. I decided to let it go; just another item in a long line of odd behavior.

  "You play the violin," I said, stating the obvious. "I heard you while I was running. It sounded good."

  "Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. And thank you for sending Matt to help me earlier. It was so kind of you."

  I shrugged, a little embarrassed by the compliment. "The damage to the store seemed to make you sad, and I wanted to help. I would have come myself, but I had a thing I couldn't get out of."

  I turned to look across the lake, feeling awkward and not sure what to say to her. I continued squeezing and relaxing my grip on the stress ball—a nervous habit. The muscle in my scarred forearm flexed each time I gripped the ball.

  "Would you like to sit?"

  "No, thanks. I've got to get cleaned up and get Sophia. She's with your grandmother; they're expecting me soon."

  I turned back to her and noticed her staring at my hand. I froze in mid-squeeze, suddenly self-conscious.

  "What a lovely ring. May I see it?" she asked.