"It's all mysterious circumstances when they can't find any clues to help them blame somebody. How come they never find the kids who arrive by spaceship, huh?"
"And how many of us are on sky-watch duty, waiting for that to happen?"
"Too many. Not enough. Who the heck cares?" Katie giggled and slouched a little lower in her nest of floor pillows. "You know, I can really see it. The change. You look happier than I've seen you since graduation."
"Who wouldn't be?"
"This place agrees with you. I can't wait to go do more exploring in the morning. Maybe I should consider retiring here, not just moving here." She met Jane's gaze for a count of ten, then her lazy smile turned into a wide, mischievous grin. She shook her head and wrinkled up her nose. "Nah! Not me!"
"I can't imagine you sitting still long enough to even consider retiring." Jane reached up blindly, flicked her wrist, and felt a bundle of folded papers slide into her grasp from the other side of the room. "Here's the map I made up for you, and a shopping list—and could you pick up the stamps and other things I ordered, while you're out gallivanting? I have to take a few deliveries tomorrow, and I have no idea when the trucks will get here." She tossed the papers to Katie. "Do you mind doing your exploring on your own? At least for the morning?"
"No problemo."
* * * *
"Problemo." Katie soft-stomped her way into the spa at quarter after eleven the next morning and slouched into the only chair.
"Like what?" Jane glanced up from inventorying the contents of the last delivery box. Maybe it was foolish to start stocking up inventory when she didn't have display cases and cabinets to put it in yet. She frowned as her gaze slid over the boxes and bags Katie had brought back with her. "Looks like you found and got everything I asked you to."
"No Divine's Emporium. Just an empty lot where you said it would be and where the map said it would be."
"What?" Jane was about to accuse Katie of teasing her, but that little crease right between her eyes was a dead giveaway. Her friend was confused, a little troubled, and most definitely not playing games with her.
Most likely Katie had just gotten herself turned around and mis-read the map. The problem was, there were only a few dead-end streets looking down over the slopes into the Metroparks. How could Katie mistake one street for another, especially with street signs to guide her? Jane decided now was a good time to take a break for lunch, walk with Katie down to Hunky & Dory's, and then walk out to Divine's while the weather was still nice and wind-and-snow-free. All her deliveries had come in ahead of schedule, leaving her free for the rest of the day—after putting away all the deliveries, of course. She shoved all the boxes behind the one remaining counter, so no one walking by on the street would see them and made sure all the lights were off and all the doors locked.
It occurred to her that it was a good thing she hadn't called to make that appointment. What if Kurt Hanson—whether he was the boy she remembered from her orphanage days or not—had been here, assessing the shop for renovations, when Katie walked in and announced Divine's Emporium didn't exist? Since Angela had recommended Kurt, he had to know the shop was there. Jane knew the shop was there. So why couldn't Katie find it?
"Weirder and weirder," she murmured as the two of them hurried down the cleared sidewalks.
"Curiouser and curiouser. Down the rabbit hole, Alice?" Katie murmured back. Then she laughed.
Divine's was exactly where Jane knew it would be. If not for the open-mouthed amazement and slightly glazed look in Katie's eyes, she would have accused her friend of trying to play a joke on her. Jane led the way, up the sidewalk to the gate and then to the porch. Katie didn't hang back, but she didn't leap ahead and blaze the trail, like she usually did.
"Back so soon?" Angela called from behind the counter the moment the door swung open. Four strings of copper and silver bells chimed sweetly.
Jane waved a greeting, preferring to listen to the music before speaking.
"What a cool place!" Katie crowed, and immediately darted away, out of sight beyond the shelves.
"My friend is here for the day, just to make sure I'm settled in all right," Jane explained. She sauntered over to the counter and leaned against it. "She couldn't find your place, when she was out exploring alone, so I thought I'd bring her over to show the way."
"Now how in the world could such a big house get lost in such a little town?" Angela chortled, muffling the sound behind her hand. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"That's what I thought." She shrugged. "Do you have—" open in mirror of Katie's expression when Angela shoved a double-sized mug across the counter to her. Whipped cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon swayed slightly on top of the creamy brown, steaming concoction.
"Chai, extra spicy, with genuine whipped cream," Angela said. "You said it was your favorite, when you were in yesterday."
Fighting back a shiver, Jane went on her tiptoes and looked over and behind the counter. She felt a little throb of disappointment when she saw the two-burner coffee machine, a little espresso machine, a refrigerator, some short shelves with glasses and mugs, and a shelf full of flavoring syrups. That was an awful lot to cram in behind the counter. The space just didn't look that large, from the other side of the counter. Somehow, Jane had expected to find nothing except maybe a shimmering spot on the wall where Angela pulled out all sorts of wonders, made to order.
"Yeah, it is," she murmured, and cradled the enormous mug in both hands. "This place... There's more to this place than I thought."
"What does your friend like?"
"Mocha with a big splash of vanilla syrup, and chocolate sprinkles."
"Coming right up."
Katie came back to the front counter at the same moment Angela set her mug on the counter, smiled and slid it along the counter to her. She picked it up with a grin and nod of thanks and took a long gulp before launching into raptures about the shop.
"This is a fantastic town. You are so lucky," Katie said for what seemed like the twentieth time, after they had left Divine's and brought their lunch back to the spa. "Do you mind if I pass the word along to the gang? Only the friendly ones, of course. Forget the stick-up-their-butts, we're-your-elders-so-respect-us dweebs. They'd love to come out, just to check up on you and goof around for a day or two. Would you mind?"
"No. Not at all. It's not like I'm on duty, remember?" Jane shook her head, trying to break free of the niggling suspicion that she had missed something very obvious when they went into Divine's—but she couldn't for the life of her remember what. "Better tell them to be careful, though. Not to all come drop in on me at once. We don't want them getting in trouble with the Council. Imagine how they'd panic if they knew ten or twenty of us were relaxing, all at the same time."
"Don't worry." Katie spun around the room a dozen times in the space of a few breaths, working off her exuberance. "What the Old Poops don't know won't hurt any of us."
* * * *
The snow resumed, falling thick and fast, within minutes after Katie left that afternoon. Jane let the falling snow mesmerize her while she curled up directly underneath the skylight, wrapped in a thick blanket and sipping hot chocolate. She didn't feel like doing anything—not running around looking at used furniture, not making calls to hire a handyman. When Angela called and invited her to come out for the evening, Jane almost said she didn't want to go anywhere or do anything. She knew better than to refuse the invitation, and offered to pick up Angela. Funny, but it just seemed wrong, somehow, for Angela to drive a car.
They ended up at a comedy club in Broadview Heights, where Lanie Zephyr was one of the headline acts. It had a theater-in-the-round feel to it, with the main body of the stage sticking out from the curtain. Angela chuckled after they were shown to their seats at a table to the far right of the stage, and confided in Jane that the place used to be a strip club. The bouncers who used to work there pooled the money they got for breaking hands and legs, and bought the place to turn it into a come
dy club and piano bar. That explained why the stage was so high and long, for maximum exposure, in all the meanings for the word.
Something prickled against Jane's fingertips and her sense of power at work tugged her attention to the stage. She caught a twitch in the curtain, maybe indicating someone had been looking out at the audience. Then the waitress came to take their order and she couldn't keep staring at the curtain without someone noticing.
The first hour was essentially amateur night, giving local comedians and up-and-comers ten minutes to show they had the right stuff. Some of them, unfortunately, only had seven minutes of good material.
The hopefuls were followed by two comedians who were as different as night and day, in terms of physique and subject matter. Angela pulled an iPod out of her purse and offered to share the earbuds with Jane as the first, a skinny young man with a straggly, long beard that looked like dirty spaghetti, stepped out from behind the curtain. Jane hesitated, and then decided it was wise to trust Angela. She didn't think about the oddness of trying to block out the comedy routine with an earbud in only one ear, or the unsanitary aspect of using someone else's earbuds, until she went home that night.
The fact that the music filling her head was recognizable as the soundtrack from "How to Train Your Dragon," amused her. Then she realized that she only heard the comedian's voice as muffled "wah-wah-whoa," reminiscent of the old "Peanuts" holiday specials when adults talked. Unfortunately, she could read lips, and every third word out of the skinny young man's mouth was filth. Jane shuddered and turned her gaze to the menu that was printed on the surface of the table.
"Thanks," she whispered, when potty-mouth left the stage to a smattering of applause and gave the earbuds back.
The next comedian came out, a pudgy, olive-skinned woman with red-dyed hair, violet eyes—they had to be contacts—and an inch of silver in the roots of her hair.
"Yeah, thanks," a man whispered, settling into the table directly behind them. "It's a good thing I got tied up behind stage helping Lanie. You were supposed to rescue me from the Septic Tank that Ate Cleveland, Angela."
"You're a big boy," Angela said, laughter making her whispered voice musical. "Jane's the new girl. Since you weren't around to rescue her like you did when you were children, I had to do it." She winked at Jane. "Not that Jane needed you to rescue her that much."
Jane shivered, feeling a momentary whisper of Gifted energy, there and gone, barely disturbing the roots of her hair. She turned around to look at the man behind them. The comedienne on stage was still getting settled, making the audience laugh as she fumbled with the stool. It was almost a juggling act, how she balanced it on one leg and it actually stayed there for a few seconds, and she acted totally stunned, as if she didn't want it to do that.
"Hey," he said, as she stared into the gray eyes of the man she had seen in the truck—sandy hair, black leather jacket, multi-colored striped scarf. "Welcome to town. I'm guessing you're the Jane who's taking over the Spindelmutter building?" He held out his hand to shake.
Jane felt nothing but callouses and warmth and strength in his hand. She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when she didn't feel that energy flicker. Could it be coming from the comedienne, who had somehow managed to make her stool do a somersault and land on two feet before tipping forward to rest on all three?
"Ah—um—yeah, I am." She released his hand. Did he actually tighten his grip for a moment, like he didn't want to let go? "You are?"
"Kurt." He grinned. "Sorry. Kurt Hanson. When did I rescue Jane when we were kids?"
"Jane was at NCH with you and Lanie and Felicity, a year or two behind the three of you," Angela said. "Don't tell me you don't remember her: white-gold hair, quiet, almost a talent for making herself invisible when she wanted to be." Eyes sparkling, she pressed a finger to her lips to signal them to silence, and gestured for them to pay attention to the comedienne, who had taken a seat on the stool and shouted a greeting to the audience.
Did Angela know? Jane faced straight forward, focusing all her attention on the comedienne just to fight off the sensation that Kurt was staring holes into her.
Kurt Hanson. Her Kurt Hanson, from the orphanage? The same Kurt Hanson Angela had recommended to handle the renovations to the spa?
Okay, this might be good. This might be bad. This might be a total disaster.
Definitely, Angela was a schemer and manipulator and she knew far more than she ever let on.
But maybe—just maybe—that was comforting. With so much uncertainty, it was nice to know someone had a better idea of what was going on. The question was if Angela cared to share that information with them. Jane's gut instinct said she couldn't badger the woman for answers, couldn't call in heavier firepower from stronger Gifted to "persuade" Angela to share. Information would have to come in its own good time.
While she mused over the possibilities and problems and new challenges ahead of her, the comedienne went through her routine. Jane caught enough of it to appreciate the fact her humor was intelligent and based on irony instead of raunch. The laughter was consistent throughout the routine and the comedienne got near-deafening applause as she bowed and pretended to fall over, before skipping off the stage.
A man who definitely looked like he had been a bouncer in a former life came out onto the stage and announced the first headliner: home-grown comedienne Lanie Zephyr. The fact he gave her name indicated Lanie was several steps higher in quality and reputation than the previous acts, plus she had some CDs available at the register, including her newest, "Living Proof that the Good Times Roll." Then Lanie rolled out onto the stage.
Jane felt a definite tingle in her fingertips. She didn't miss that Lanie's wheelchair moved with a steady speed, yet she didn't touch her wheels. Okay, Lanie had Gifts of some kind. Enough to move her wheelchair. But obviously not enough to heal her back from the accident that put her in the chair six years ago. Jane writhed a little bit, wincing as her overactive imagination filled in just how bad that injury had to be, to overcome whatever healing abilities Lanie might have.
Lanie grabbed her wheels to come to a semi-screeching halt. She tipped back, front wheels in the air, looking like she had narrowly avoided going off the front of the stage, right into the lap of a guy who already looked like too much of the evening had been spent in the bottom of his glass. Jane wondered how she had been able to ignore Mr. Liquid Diet until then. She prayed he would fall asleep when his three drinks caught up with him—and soon.
"Hey, is everybody looking forward to Valentine's Day? Coming up fast. Do you have somebody special to give a fantastic gift?" Lanie looked around, not really meeting anyone's gaze. "Warning. Forget that gift, and you're going to pay for it for the next three months."
She looked wide-eyed in surprise as groans and muttered comments rippled through the room. "Now, I'm a traditionalist. I believe in celebrating Valentine's Day the Italian way. I go to a Chicago garage and I shoot someone."
For two seconds, Jane thought no one got it, and she was afraid to laugh aloud. She glanced at the tables on either side of her, where there was enough light to see expressions, and she could almost see the mental process as people figured out what Lanie meant. Then laughter roared through the room. From the looks some of the girls gave their guys, maybe they thought shooting someone was a good idea.
If only Jane had someone to be angry with, for forgetting her at Valentine's Day. Suddenly, she had the most awful urge to look at Kurt. It hurt her neck not to turn her head. From the corner of her eye, she caught him looking at her. Why was he looking at her? Was he still trying to remember who she was from Neighborlee Children's Home?
"Yeah, romance is a big problem," Lanie continued, once the laughter died down. "I say the movie Love Story got it completely wrong. Love means always having to say you're sorry!"
A few boos came along with the laughter, but they sounded good-natured to Jane. A few guys scowled, but she speculated they were all guys who sat with girls w
ho laughed loudest at the previous joke.
"I don't know about marriage. It sounds like a good idea, until you think about all the luggage that comes with it. Morning breath. Doing someone else's laundry. Always getting stuck washing the dishes." A few people shouted comments from the back that Jane couldn't quite make out.
"You know what I found out? The Bible says there is no marriage in heaven." Lanie paused for about three seconds while people held their breaths, visibly waiting for the punch line. "Maybe that's what makes it heaven?"
There were more thoughtful expressions than laughter.
"But I'm a fine one to talk. Like I know anything about marriage? I don't even date! If the statement unlucky at love, lucky at cards were true, I would be a star on the Poker Channel. I could give Bret and Bart and Beau Maverick a run for their money." Lanie scowled at the people directly in front of her. "You know, the old TV show, Maverick?"
Jane sat back and relaxed, marveling at how Lanie managed to slide back and forth between astonishment and disgust, mocking people who didn't belong together and made the mistake of getting married, while somehow giving people something to think about. At least, if they hadn't soaked their brains in alcohol this far into the evening, they would be able to think. There was a fine line between viciousness and knife-sharp, intelligent humor. Somehow Lanie managed to ride that line. She finished up talking about a couple who got married their sophomore year of college, and were divorced before they graduated.
"I would not say their marriage was bad but they sued their matchmaking service...and won. No, really, and I am not being disloyal by saying it was the wife's fault. She was the type of woman who would have made Adam say he wanted his rib back!"
That got enough shrieks of laughter and people making comments that Jane couldn't hear the next few things Lanie said.
"She is so dumb, she had a thought and it ended up on the list of endangered species. She needs a calculator to count sheep. And the guy she married was so dumb, he had to study to be the CPR dummy. It was the only job he could get—and he ended up cheating on the test! But they really were the perfect couple. She was so dumb, she went into a coma and her IQ went up. And people thought she was a lot more lively after that. The problem with having people like that for friends is that you have to explain things to them. The one thing you never explain to people like that is just how dumb they are—because it would take hours!"
Hero Blues Page 12