High on the ridge of a gable overlooking the lawn sat a female figure in a deck chair. She held a glass in one hand and a long cigarette holder in the other. One bony leg crossed casually over the other. A colorful umbrella perched over the ensemble. Felix wasn't sure, but he thought he heard tropical music floating over the scene.
In the name of all that was holy—
When Aletheia had said she had a family emergency, Felix had imagined a kid with a broken arm or a flood in the basement. Something normal. This—
Just looking at the woman on the roof sent adrenaline jolting through him.
Quickly pushing his shock down with the rest of his emotions, Felix parked the car and joined the group on the lawn.
As his leather dress shoes crunched over the dried grass, Aletheia started, then turned to shoot him a glance.
Felix received a hit from her green-gold eyes. Those eyes observed him with a disconcerting level of interest. It was the type of interest, Felix decided, one might give a wild animal in its native habitat. The notion hit him with unexpected intensity. Did she guess what he was? The real him, underneath the careful exterior? Could she? The idea stirred him in a deep and novel way.
Aletheia turned back to gaze at the woman on the roof, as if her perilous situation were easier to contemplate than Felix.
"I can't believe she did it again," muttered a young man with shaggy, dark-blond hair. Over paint-splattered jeans he wore a kitchen apron, and the manly confidence to carry off such an ensemble.
"My sister Rosa has no more sense than a pigeon," snapped a withered old woman seated in a wheelchair. Behind her, a dark-haired girl crossed her arms over her chest in exact imitation of the old lady's posture.
"Well, she does have delusional psychosis," excused the man with shaggy hair.
"Huh!" said the old woman.
The dark-haired girl followed with her own, "Huh!"
"I was trying to watch her," claimed a tall, spindly fellow with glasses perched atop his balding head. "But you know what happens when I get deep into my equations."
A sigh escaped Aletheia. "Yes, Dad, I know."
A middle-aged, tubby guy with thick glasses started to cry. "I'm scared, Allie."
"Now, now, George. There's nothing to be afraid of." Aletheia put her arm around the crying man. "We'll get Aunt Rosa down. Not to worry."
Felix's eyes narrowed on Aletheia's hand resting atop the older man's shoulder. From the fellow's mannerisms, Felix was pretty sure he was developmentally disabled.
"So," asked Shaggy Hair, "what do you want to do?" It did not surprise Felix that Shaggy Hair directed the question toward Aletheia rather than 'Dad.' Clearly, she was the one in charge of this madhouse.
Aletheia squinted toward the roof. "Judging by the umbrella, she's probably imagining she's at the beach in Monaco again."
"That's got to be an improvement over the one where she thinks she's in the Alps," Shaggy Hair drawled. "You want to talk her inside, cousin dear? My soufflé is gonna be done in ten minutes."
Aletheia turned and met eyes with Shaggy Hair. The moment told Felix neither one of them thought it was going to be as easy as his words suggested. Probably they didn't want to further upset the guy who was crying.
"I'll back you up on the second floor balcony," Shaggy Hair told Aletheia quietly.
Felix studied the house. A gaily carved balcony sat beneath either side of the gable upon which Aunt Rosa perched. "There are two balconies where she might fall," he pointed out.
Shaggy Hair and Aletheia turned from their contemplation of each other to stare at Felix.
He felt like staring at himself. Why had he mentioned that? This crazy situation wasn't his problem. Nevertheless, he could feel his jaw tense in determination. An old lady was on the roof. Something had to be done—and Felix could see nobody else capable of helping. "I'll take the second balcony."
Aletheia's mouth opened. She was obviously surprised, and possibly threatened. Clearly, this was a tight-knit group, used to solving problems on their own. Besides she seemed to suspect Felix—or at least sense what he really was.
Too bad. Staring at her, he only grew more determined.
Meanwhile, Shaggy Hair relented. "I have no idea who you are, but you're on."
Sensing Shaggy Hair's say-so wasn't enough, Felix kept his challenging gaze on Aletheia. He hadn't intended to take this tack with her, showing his underlying aggression, but gravity wasn't going to wait for the dame on the roof.
Aletheia knew it, too. She surrendered with a curt nod. "Okay, you're here. You might as well be useful."
Hardly a gushing endorsement, but enough for the job.
"We'd better hurry," Shaggy Hair told Felix, as they both started jogging toward the front porch. "Who knows what'll happen if Aunt Rosa finishes her drink." He huffed a laugh. "She might decide to go for a swim."
Glancing up at the deck chair on the gable roof, Felix realized where a desire for a swim might put the old lady. He dragged in a breath. "Let's run."
CHAPTER TWO
Aletheia looked out the open dormer window down the ridgeline of the gable roof. A light breeze flitting through the window made her concede Aunt Rosa had probably chosen the most bearable spot in Deer Creek in which to settle for a hot summer afternoon. Indeed, the silver lining in the situation was that Rosa hadn't decided to let herself into Jim Blodger's backyard again and install herself beside his swimming pool.
Instead, she looked perfectly happy lounging in the deck chair and sipping her iced tea.
At least Aletheia hoped it was iced tea. When Aunt Rosa broke into the liquor cabinet things got even crazier than otherwise.
"Is there anything I can do?" Aletheia's father hovered in the room behind her, obviously wanting to be helpful.
Aletheia closed her eyes briefly. Her dad was the absent-minded professor. You didn't expect anything from him. She couldn't even have expected him to tell her about the ill-advised loan he'd taken out on the house two years ago and then allowed to lapse—without warning her. Probably without remembering he'd done it.
Opening her eyes again, Aletheia smiled slightly. Poor guy had thought he was being helpful. Now they were all in trouble. "No, Dad. Thanks, anyway."
It was time to think about the situation at hand. On the plus side, she wasn't alone. Parker and Felix Roman were on the balconies to either side of the gable roof. Aletheia couldn't see them from her position, but she was certain they were there.
Yes, oddly, she was sure the stranger was standing as he'd promised on the balcony below the gable roof.
It felt very peculiar to be depending on him. Perhaps most disturbing of all was her sense she could depend on him. He wouldn't duck if Rosa fell toward him. He'd stood up to Jim Blodger, hadn't he, and even made Jim leave the café? There was something in his eyes, something that said he would do whatever he said he would, no matter what it took.
That something gave her a dizzy turn in her stomach, not unlike the dizziness she felt right now glancing three stories down.
Taking in a fortifying breath, Aletheia looked back up, toward the old lady on the roof. As she put one knee on the windowsill, she tried to imagine what might be interesting enough to lure a celebrity socialite off the beach in Monaco. "Oh, Miss Rosa?"
Aunt Rosa lifted her head. Good. She was listening.
"It's the prince," Aletheia called out the window. "He's here to see you."
"The prince?" Rosa turned her head slightly. "No... I'm out of sorts with the prince." She tipped some ash off her cigarette. "The last time I saw him he was definitely not a gentleman."
A laugh choked out of Aletheia. Aunt Rosa certainly did have an imagination. "Oh, but... He's come all this way. Can't you forgive him?"
Aunt Rosa took a sip of what Aletheia still hoped was iced tea. "Nope."
Add stubborn to imaginative, Aletheia thought. Jeez. It wasn't as if she had a lot of experience with celebrity socialites to know where to go from here. "How about the Queen
of England?"
Aunt Rosa waved a hand. "Bo-ring."
For the love of— Aletheia turned back toward the room, searching for inspiration. It was one of the third-floor bedrooms and hadn't been used in years. Next to Aletheia's dithering father stood a dusty desk.
"Ah ha!" Aletheia lunged toward the desk and grabbed the old, dial telephone moldering on top of it. "Miss Rosa?" She raced toward the window again. "The telephone is for you. The line in the, uh, lobby."
Aunt Rosa gave another dismissive wave. "Can't you see I'm not taking calls today?"
The old lady was determined to stay out on the roof. Aletheia put her knee on the windowsill again. With her heart pounding, she raised her other foot and put it in front of her knee, on the ridgeline. "But—it's your agent. He's—he's got a part for you."
Aunt Rosa's head came up at once. "My agent? Well! Why didn't you say so?"
Aletheia swallowed a terrified gasp as Aunt Rosa got up from her chair. The chair went sliding down the roof one way. The umbrella took a dive the other. Aunt Rosa, graceful and perfectly balanced, ignored them both and trotted blithely along the ridge of the roof. With a condescending hand, she accepted Aletheia's help into the room.
A deep sigh escaped Aletheia.
"Oh, thank God, thank God!" Aletheia's developmentally disabled cousin George was suddenly there, unwittingly aiding the rescue by grabbing close hold of Aunt Rosa.
"The telephone, you fool!" Rosa squawked. "Let me talk to my agent."
Aletheia handed Rosa the phone and she picked up the receiver over George's strangling arms. "Hello," she cooed sweetly, and proceeded to chat as if there were a person on the other end of the line.
Aunt Penelope's spy, eight-year-old Sophie, stood just inside the doorway, checking out the upshot. "Good work, Aletheia," she allowed in her odd, precise voice.
Parker stumbled past Sophie into the room, panting. He grinned when he saw Rosa chattering into the telephone with George still hanging onto her. Parker's cheeks sucked in. "Good work, Aletheia. That umbrella went right over the balcony railing." He sent her a pointed glance. In other words, he wouldn't have been able to save Aunt Rosa if she'd taken the tumble instead.
Aletheia was getting her second hit of knee-melting relief from that information when Felix Roman glided into the room.
Neatly folded, he was carrying Aunt Rosa's deck chair.
Aletheia's gaze locked on the deck chair.
Parker's eyes widened. "Hey, you saved the deck chair!"
Felix looked startled by Parker's enthusiasm, but Aletheia knew what he meant. Felix had saved the deck chair, and would probably have been able to save Aunt Rosa if she had fallen instead.
"Good job!" Aletheia's father exclaimed.
"A rare bit of work," strange little Sophie declared.
"Um..." said Felix. Clearly baffled, he tried to hand the deck chair to Parker.
Aletheia's dizzy sensation returned. She'd trusted Felix—and he'd come through.
How weird was that?
"No can do," an amused Parker told Felix, raising his hands to avoid accepting the deck chair. "My soufflé is waiting."
"But—"
"You'd be sorry if I ruined it," Parker warned. "Since you're staying for dinner now, aren't you?"
Felix looked pole-axed. It was the first time Aletheia had seen the man at a loss. At a loss? He looked positively socked.
Truth be told, she felt a little battered herself. The man could have saved Aunt Rosa. He was competent.
He was also a mystery. Even as she watched, Felix wiped the astonishment from his expression. His face went utterly blank. Aletheia had a feeling he was intent on hiding whatever emotion succeeded his surprise.
He glanced in her direction. "Perhaps I should stay," he ventured slowly. "That would give us a chance to discuss the...transaction I mentioned."
Parker raised his eyebrows. From behind Felix, he mouthed, 'Transaction?'
Aletheia had no answer. It was all a mistake. Felix Roman had meant to find a different Aletheia Cooper—or possibly only wanted to sell this one a fancy security system she couldn't afford.
But a delicate excitement hummed through her as she met his insistent gaze. He was going to stay for dinner. She could give herself a little more time along the edge of a more adventurous world, even if it was only an illusion.
"Sure," she told Felix, feeling a little breathless. "Stay for dinner, and then I'll listen to your pitch."
A flash of something that looked oddly like triumph flitted over Felix's face before his expression settled into stolid determination. "Excellent." He firmly handed Parker the deck chair. "But before anybody eats anything, we're nailing this window shut."
~~~
Bang!
After slamming the hammer into the nail, Felix tried the window. It was nailed solid. He straightened, aware that he was now alone in the third floor bedroom, everyone else having already descended to eat dinner.
Dinner at Aletheia Cooper's house, to which he'd been invited.
Felix rubbed a hand over his jaw. Okay, this was a stroke of luck, Aletheia's cousin spontaneously inviting him to the family meal. It gave Felix an 'in' to the situation, and access to the rest of Benjamin Cooper's extended family. Using it, Felix might be able to discover the information he sought: Benjamin's present location. Once he knew that, Felix could set about restoring to his client the Cloak Benjamin had destroyed.
But... Felix leaned forward to check the window again. But...getting that invitation had been completely unexpected. While it was true he hadn't much experience with large families, he was pretty sure this one was way too friendly.
Straightening again, Felix frowned. In his mind's eye, he saw Aletheia's face when he'd come upstairs carrying the silly deck chair. He saw everyone's faces. They'd acted as if he'd saved the old woman, herself, instead of a piece of lawn furniture.
Well, he would have, but he hadn't. The latter was the important part, wasn't it? He hadn't!
So why the gratitude? Or the guise of friendship? He knew he came off as a cold fish. Nobody invited him to dinner. Hell, not even his own mother.
Felix slapped the hammer into his palm before setting it down to reach for his suit jacket. Okay, so Cooper's family behaved oddly. Didn't matter. He had an opportunity here—and he was taking it. With his mouth setting grimly, he went downstairs.
Most of the gang were already gathered in the dining room when he arrived, and were speaking loudly. It eased Felix to note the room, like the rest of the house, held an air of faded glory. The antique furniture was genuine, but badly scarred, and the wallpaper would have been the height of fashion a century ago.
If money was going to be a factor, then he held all the aces.
Aletheia sat at the foot of the table, arguing about something with the little dark-haired girl, Sophie. But as Felix entered the room, Aletheia's eyes lifted to meet his.
Her gaze was still wary, but not all wary. Mixed in there was a good dose of feminine interest.
He stared, while heat suddenly flashed beneath his suit. Whoa. Was he getting attracted to her?
Fortunately, Aunt Penelope broke into the charged moment. "We don't stand on ceremony here." The withered woman in the wheelchair sounded faintly disappointed. "Sit anywhere."
Chubby Cousin George hastily scooted his chair to one side and looked hopefully toward Felix.
Felix felt shoved off balance all over again. "Uh...thanks," he said, and took the offered chair next to George.
As if this were a cue, Parker, the shaggy-haired cook, came through a swing door bearing a soufflé that looked as puffy and golden as the finest chef could produce.
Appreciative ooh's passed around the table, but Aunt Penelope fixed her eagle gaze on Felix. "So, Mr. Roman, what brings you all the way out to Deer Creek?"
Felix blinked a few times, not surprised by the question, but by the level of interest with which it was asked. For his part, he made sure to sound off-hand. "Oh, I'm here on
business."
"What kind of business do you do?" Parker asked, setting the soufflé next to Felix. Again, there was an edge to the question. Not a threatening edge, but rather one of...sincerity.
With a confused frown, Felix gave Parker his stock answer. "I'm head of a security consulting firm. We assist organizations in developing confidentiality, safety, and security for their physical and intellectual property."
A predictable silence fell as they all tried to digest this mouthful. Meanwhile the little dark-haired girl, Sophie, spoke up. "That Lexus is a rental car. What do you drive at home?"
Felix cleared his throat. "Uh, I have a Lexus at home, too."
"What color?" Sophie wanted to know.
George and Aunt Rosa joined Sophie with bright, questioning looks. It mattered to them what color car Felix drove.
"Gray," Felix said.
When Aletheia shot a sharp glance toward Felix's suit, he realized this was gray, too. So was his tie. And the business card he'd handed her, come to think of it. He did like gray.
"Nothing wrong with gray," Parker said, echoing Felix's thought. Parker scooped a helping of soufflé from the serving dish and set it on Felix's plate, sending a heady aroma of cheese and savory herbs wafting upward. "What I'd like to know is how you happened to arrive at the house just when we needed you."
Saying this, he gazed down at Felix, but not with suspicion. With...gratitude. Though Felix didn't look, he sensed Aletheia was sending him a similar, if more guarded, glance.
Felix's skin felt too tight. Why were they all being nice, interested, accepting? They knew nothing about him. Nobody treated him this way, not even people who'd known him for years. Especially not people who'd known him for years.
"That's a good question," Felix told Parker meaningfully. "I was trying to speak to Ms. Cooper when she was interrupted by your emergency phone call."
"Awfully nice of you, to hear the problem and come help out," Aletheia's father said with a nod.
I Gotta Feeling Page 2