by Terry Odell
She came back with two steaming mugs and handed one to Sarah. “You sip that slowly, dear. Chamomile with valerian. It’ll help you relax.”
Sarah took a tentative sip of the hot liquid. This was more than herb tea. She gave Maggie a questioning look.
“So I added a little brandy. You look like you need it.” Maggie scooted closer and patted Sarah’s knee. “Now, tell me everything.”
Sarah closed her eyes for a moment and everything poured out. “It’s Randy. And the robbery and the break-in and Diana and Chris and I kissed Randy and … I got my period and I feel awful and David—” The tears welled up in her eyes. She gulped. “How can I do that to David?”
Maggie pried the mug from Sarah’s fingers and set it on the coffee table. She put her arms around her. “First, you cry. Let it out.”
Sarah had cried so many tears this week, she didn’t think there could be any left. Yet, under the protection of Maggie’s touch, the softness of her robe, her lavender scent, they came. In torrents. Wet, messy, blubbering sobs. When they finally dried up, Sarah took in a long, shaky breath and gave Maggie a weak smile. “Guess I needed that.”
“Cleanses the body. Straightens out your chemistry. Nothing to be ashamed of. Now, you said something about kissing Randy.”
Leave it to Maggie to get to the heart of things. “It was a stupid thing to do. Now if it had been Chris, I’d understand. I’ve known him forever and we have a history.”
“What does Chris have to do with any of this?”
“He’s always offering to help. And I might have to take him up on it.” Sarah decided to leave out the gory details of Diana’s bomb. “But when he called tonight and Randy was there … I don’t know. Chris leaves me feeling … well, nothing. He’s a friend, but I think he wants more and I can’t decide if I could ever go there with him.”
“And Randy?” Maggie winged her eyebrows.
Sarah felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Definitely not a nothing feeling. It’s probably because if I accept help from Chris, I’m admitting defeat. Randy’s doing his job, so it’s not the same kind of help. But why did I kiss him? Maggie, how can I think about another man? And why am I thinking about a man at all, especially now? One I hardly know.”
“You’re afraid you’re betraying David?”
Sarah nodded.
“That’s a normal feeling.” Maggie patted Sarah’s knee. “But, listen to me. David’s gone. It’s been well over a year. There shouldn’t be any betrayal here. Let me tell you, there’s a lot to be said for the cultures that enforce a strict mourning period. There’s a nice line to cross, a way to say ‘it’s over’. By the time the dreariness is finished, the wearing black, not seeing people, they’re ready for some light in their lives. I think Randy might be your light.”
“You do?” Sarah asked. She worried a tissue in her hands.
“Yes. But you have to think so, too. You have to listen to your heart.” She ran a finger down Sarah’s cheek. “Tell me. How did that kiss make you feel?”
A warmth radiated through her. Sarah didn’t think she could attribute all of it to the brandy. “It was one little kiss—like a friendly kiss on the cheek, but on his mouth. I kissed him, Maggie. He tried to do the right thing and say, ‘no’, but I insisted.” She set the shredded tissue on the coffee table and picked up her mug, staring into its steamy depth.
“And did he like it?” She gave Sarah a mischievous grin.
“Maggie! It’s not like we pressed up against each other, you know. He’s six-six. He had to lean down to let me kiss him. Those parts … they were out of contact. But—”
“But?”
“So, I might have noticed. But he was definitely trying to hide it, so I didn’t think it would be right to bring it up.”
“I’d say that’s exactly what you did!”
“Oh, Maggie, you’re terrible!” Sarah burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggling, accompanied by Maggie’s laughter.
When Sarah could breathe again, she gasped. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Maggie wiped tears from her eyes. “Freud might say differently. Now, finish your tea. Do you want anything to eat?”
“No, thanks. I feel so much better. I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble lately.”
“Don’t you worry about it. You’re family. You can call me any time. You know that.”
“I do. Thanks for the tea. I think it’s done its job. I’ll see you later.”
“Keep an eye out for the new neighbors,” Maggie said. “I’m dying to meet them.”
* * * * *
Sarah pushed open her shop door. Saturday had dawned bright and brisk, which seemed totally unfair. How dare the day look so cheerful when she felt so miserable. All she wanted was to lounge on her couch with a heating pad and a mug of hot tea. Thank goodness Saturday’s early closing meant she’d have time to lie down before dinner with Chris.
Jennifer appeared moments later carrying a large cardboard storage box. “Good morning, Sarah.”
“It’s so good to see you.” Sarah turned and extended her arms for a hug.
Jennifer set the box down for a quick embrace before giving Sarah a scrutinizing look. “Are you okay? You look tired.”
“Cramps. The usual misery.”
Jennifer nodded. “Bummer. Hey, if you want to take the day off, I think I can manage by myself. It’s been a while, but it’s like riding a bike.”
“No, I have plenty to do. With you out front, I can stay in the office and catch up.” She tipped her head toward the carton. “Your photos?”
“Yeah. You said I could display them.”
“And I meant it. You keep one hundred percent of any of those sales and a commission on all the rest of the merchandise you sell. I wish I could give you a salary on top of it.”
“Hey, I understand. It’s more than fair for two afternoons a week and every other Saturday. Showing my work here is a coup, believe me.” Jennifer pulled off a knit cap and shook out a dark mass of shoulder-length waves.
Sarah couldn’t help but think of them as tresses, flowing tresses. She fingered her do-it-yourself cut. What she wouldn’t give for hair like that. “Nothing much has changed. Why don’t you look around and get familiar with the stock. We have a couple of new artists since you were here last. Francisco Flores—he does small watercolors of the Cascades—and Isabella Velasquez. Her blown-glass sculptures are on the back wall.”
Jennifer shrugged off her backpack, flung it behind the counter and zeroed in on the new work. “These are nice. Do you have bios? The customers like it when I share details about the artists.”
“Of course. I’ll get them for you.” Sarah went to the storeroom, found the papers and brought them to Jennifer. “Here you go. I’m going to tackle the dreaded paperwork.” She flashed a smile and went back to the office.
Sarah started plowing through the pile of papers on her desk. She had no idea how long she’d been working, the sounds of typical shop business muted by their familiarity.
“Sarah? I think you need to come out here.”
Something about the hesitant squeak in Jennifer’s voice sent Sarah’s heart going double-time. She winced at the pain in her belly when she moved and clutched the corner of the desk for a moment. “What’s wrong?”
“I was busy, but I was watching. Honest. You know I don’t ignore the customers.”
Sarah gripped Jennifer’s shoulders. “Calm down, Jen. Tell me what happened.”
“I was rearranging some things, to make room for some of my photos and … look.” Jennifer picked up a three-hundred-dollar Kavelli crystal urn. One of the handles was snapped off.
There was a new pain in Sarah’s belly. “How did it happen?”
“I don’t know. But … that’s not all.” She brought Sarah to the Egyptian perfume bottles. Three were missing, Sarah saw at once. From the look in Jennifer’s eyes, they hadn’t been sold this morning. Jennifer pointed to a pile of brightly colored broken glass behind the case
.
Her cramps forgotten, Sarah rushed through the shop, checking the merchandise. A gouge in the corner of an oil painting. Not a lot of damage. A few pieces. Expensive pieces.
She felt the room spin and Jennifer leading her back to her chair in the office. “Close the shop,” Sarah whispered. “Now.”
Jennifer hurried to obey and Sarah picked up the phone. Darn. She fumbled for Randy’s card. Why didn’t she have him on speed dial here? She punched in his cell number, relieved when he answered on the second ring.
“Sit tight. I’m out of town, but I’m going to call the station right now and someone will be there.” Sarah heard muffled sounds of Randy using the radio.
“Do you think someone broke in last night and did this?” he said when he came back on the line.
Sarah shook her head, unable to find her voice. She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure. When I got here, Jennifer took over. I didn’t even look around. But the door was locked. I know that.”
“Jennifer?”
“My part-timer. She started today.”
She answered the unasked question. “No. No way. She’s worked for me before. Absolutely no way did she do this. She’s as much of a wreck as I am.” Sarah looked up to see Jennifer in the doorway, shaking her head and looking contrite.
“Who was in the shop today? Chris? Diana? Anyone acting suspicious?” Randy said.
“I don’t know. I was in back. Hang on.” Sarah repeated Randy’s questions to Jennifer.
“She says no. Mostly moms with kids, but I keep that kind of merchandise too high for little fingers. Jennifer knows what she’s doing. She knows how to watch the merchandise.” Adrenaline surged through her system, clearing her head. “Diana!”
“Was she in today?”
“Not today, but she was in yesterday and she was wandering around. I wouldn’t put it past her to do something like this while I was in back getting her check.”
“For now, please wait for the investigators.”
“Does this mean more fingerprint powder?” Sarah asked.
“Afraid so. Someone should be there soon.”
Sarah hung up and looked at Jennifer. “I guess you can go home now. We’re closed until the police get here.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Another onslaught of cramps clutched Sarah’s belly. Without bothering to move the files and papers, she leaned forward and pillowed her head on her arms like a schoolchild at naptime, when her biggest challenge was trading her tuna sandwich for peanut butter.
Jennifer came up behind her and kneaded the muscles in Sarah’s neck. “I’ll make some tea.”
Sarah had barely started drinking her tea when the back doorbell buzzed. Jennifer told her to stay put and hurried out to answer it, returning a moment later with a young police officer.
“Ms. Tucker? I’m Officer Colleen McDonald. I understand there was some trouble here.” Tall and lean, with the red hair and freckles her name personified, Officer McDonald gave Sarah a friendly smile. “Detective Detweiler said this wasn’t the first incident.” She pulled out a small notebook and uncapped a pen. “Can you tell me everything you remember?”
By the time Sarah and Jennifer had answered all of Officer McDonald’s questions, Connor had come and gone. An ache in her head threatened to overtake the one below Sarah’s belly and she felt herself trembling. Officer McDonald snapped the cap back on her pen and slid the notebook into her pocket. “I’m under strict orders to give you a ride home, ma’am,” she said.
Sarah looked at the mess. “No need. I’ll clean up here and I can take the bus.”
“I’ll clean,” Jennifer said. “You go home. Get some sleep.”
“My car’s out back,” the policewoman said.
Sarah turned to Jennifer. “Thanks. Leave the receipts in the safe. I’ll come in early Monday and finish.”
Sarah followed the officer to the patrol car parked in the alley. “Do I know you? You look familiar. Maybe from high school?”
“You might have known my older brother, Greg. He would have been a couple of years behind you. Me, I was a bit of a hellion. My folks sent me to St. Luke’s to let the nuns straighten me out. Guess they did—look what I’m doing for a living.” She stopped at a blue and white patrol car. “Here we are,” she said. She unlocked the passenger door. “You can ride up front.”
Sarah winced as she lowered herself into the seat.
The officer must have noticed. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
“Yes. Just killer cramps.” Glad her escort was a woman, Sarah rested her head against the glass of the car’s window, letting her eyes half close. “It wasn’t so bad when I was on the Pill. But since my husband died, I haven’t taken them, and the last few months, I’ve been miserable for about two days.”
“Maybe you ought to start again. Make things easier on you.”
“Mmmh. Maybe.” If getting back on the pill would mean she didn’t have to feel like this several days a month, that was a good enough reason to consider it. As for the other benefits, well, if it turned out they would come in handy, so be it.
Good lord, where had that thought come from? Randy was a cop working on a case. Her hormones were really doing a number on her.
Sarah hoped she wasn’t blushing. She turned her face toward the window and away from any possibility of carrying the conversation any further, making a point of studying the streets. When they passed Loomis Drugs, she said, “Take a left at the corner. You can drop me off in front.”
“No way, ma’am. Strict instructions to make sure you’re secured before I leave. I don’t know how much you’ve dealt with Detective Detweiler, but I’m sure as heck not getting on his bad side.”
The officer parked and was opening the passenger door before Sarah could unbuckle her seat belt. Sarah accepted the outstretched hand.
She dragged herself up the steps to the building and opened the foyer door. The flight of stairs loomed like Mount Hood. Gripping the handrail, she supported herself through the climb, barely aware of the police officer’s supportive presence one step below her.
Inside her apartment at last, Sarah let her purse fall to the floor, followed by her coat, then collapsed on the couch with a groan. “Thanks, Officer,” she said. “You can go now.”
“Detweiler told me to give you the VIP treatment, and I’m on duty for another fifteen minutes. You’re stuck with me until then.” She crossed the room and began perusing Sarah’s CD collection. “Nice variety. You like Simon and Garfunkel?”
“Brought up on it, more or less. My mom played them all the time when … when things were rough. And when my husband died, I found they worked for me, too.”
The policewoman roamed the room, looked out the windows and Sarah felt a flutter of panic. “Are you my bodyguard? Are you afraid I’m in danger?”
The policewoman came back and settled in the armchair nearest Sarah. “We have no grounds to protect you like that, ma’am. No threats have been made, no personal harm has been done.”
Sarah swung her legs over the side of the couch and pushed herself up to a sitting position. A flicker of motion from her kitchen window caught her eye. She’d have to let Maggie know the new neighbors were in. Some other time. Right now, she didn’t care if she ever found out who had moved in. All she wanted was to crawl into a hole. A deep, dark hole.
“Thanks,” Sarah said. “For everything.”
“You get some rest.” Officer McDonald left, and Sarah locked the door behind her.
“Rest. Sounds good.” Sarah went to her room. She undressed, pulled on an oversized t-shirt and snuggled under the comforter. With her emotions roiling like a witch’s cauldron, some dead-to-the-world time would be a blessing. The phone rang. Probably Chris reminding her about dinner. She let the machine handle the call. A glance at the clock told her she could sleep for three hours and have plenty of time to get ready. Her eyes closed. That was the last thing she remembered until she was awakened by the doorbell and someone
pounding on the door shouting her name.
Groggy, she staggered to the front door and peered through the peephole. Chris. Sarah fumbled with the deadbolt latch and yanked the door open.
“God, I fell asleep,” she said. “Come in before Maggie has a fit and calls the cops.”
At that, Chris clamped his mouth shut. “Did you forget our date?” He glanced at his watch. “We have reservations at Martinelli’s in half an hour. Get dressed quick and we can make it.”
Sarah rubbed her temples and sank onto the couch. “I can’t, Chris. I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? Why not?”
“Some of my merchandise was damaged. At the shop. I had to call the police. Again.”
His expression softened. He sank onto the cushion beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. “That’s terrible. I had no idea.”
Sarah leaned into him. “I feel lousy, Chris. I want to go back to bed.”
“I could call for delivery. Whatever you want.”
“I don’t think I could face it. Please. We can go out another night. I need to do some serious thinking about the shop.”
“I’ve told you, all you have to do is ask. Anything.”
She straightened. “I know. And I’ve told you I’m going to make it or break it on my own.”
“You’ve become stubborn since—”
That pause again. “Say it. Since David died. Committed suicide? I will never believe that, but he’s dead. Gone. And I’m on my own and I’m going to manage, or it won’t mean anything.” She looked into his eyes. He wanted to help. He wanted more, she was positive, but she’d deal with that later. With a hollow feeling of defeat, she got the words out. “Maybe there is something.”
He perked up. “Anything.”
Sarah worked her way out from under his arm and found the letter Diana had given her. She brought it back to the couch and pored over it again. “Do you remember David’s sister, Diana?”
“Can’t say that I do, but I’m sure we’ve met. What does she have to do with this?”