She started to turn away from the case, then froze. For one split second, a dark silhouette had been reflected in the glass. Claire’s heart slammed against her chest as she spun toward the back room.
The crystal beads swayed in a draft as panic tightened her chest. But in the next instant, she realized that the owner had probably returned and might be as frightened as she was.
“Is someone there?” She took a step toward the beads. “I’m not here to steal anything. I just need some information about a doll I saw in your window yesterday.”
Silence.
Claire braced herself as she waited for an irate owner or employee to come charging into the shop to confront her. No one came. No one made a sound, but she could feel someone’s presence. It was one of those strange sensations that couldn’t be explained, but she knew someone was in the workroom, on the other side of the beaded curtain, waiting for her to make the first move.
She stood very still, wondering what she should do.
And then a knock sounded at the front door, and she jumped.
“Claire? Is that you in there?”
Alex’s voice was muted from the street, but she had no trouble detecting his irritation. At the moment, she didn’t care how angry he was, she was so relieved he was there.
“I’ll be right out!”
Parting the curtain, she peered into the workroom, saw nothing out of place and hurried through, leaving the glass beads tinkling behind her as she rushed toward the door.
Relief washed over her as she stepped into the alley. She didn’t know why she was so shaken. Maybe because she’d entered the shop illegally. If the wrong person had found her inside, the situation could have gotten sticky. But it was more than that. Something inside the shop had badly frightened her.
Claire couldn’t stop trembling, even though Alex was headed toward her down the alley and she knew that she was safe. But the sense of danger lingered, and she could almost hear her grandmother whispering in her ear.
A breeze drifted through the alley, stirring the wrought-iron gate that opened into the courtyard. A white flower lay on the cobblestones just outside the fence, and Claire walked over to have a closer look.
Against the damp darkness of the worn pavers, the snowy petals of the orchid looked fresh and pristine, as if someone had dropped it only moments earlier while hurrying through the courtyard gate.
Eleven
From the shopkeeper next door, Alex learned that the owner of the collectibles store, Mignon Bujold, was attending a doll show in Baton Rouge for the next four days and the shop would be closed until she returned on Tuesday morning. Why she’d left the back door unlocked was anyone’s guess, but the neighbor seemed to think it was just an oversight. The locks on some of the old buildings in the Quarter were tricky, and if Mignon had been in a hurry to leave on Thursday, she might have failed to engage the dead bolt properly.
Alex had a quick look around the alley and the shop, but the entry hadn’t been forced and nothing on the inside appeared to be amiss. In spite of Claire’s contention that she’d seen someone inside earlier, he insisted there was little he could do but alert the neighborhood patrol to keep an eye on the premises until someone could get in touch with Mignon Bujold.
Claire went home after that and spent the remainder of the day intermittently resting and puttering around the house, until her mother showed up late that afternoon with an overnight bag and a determined expression. She’d come to make sure that Claire didn’t overdo her first day out of the hospital, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Claire knew better than to argue, so gave in gratefully and settled on the sofa in the living room, while Lucille went through the house cleaning like a buzz saw.
After a supper of boiled shrimp and dirty rice, they carried glasses of sweet tea out to Claire’s front porch and watched twilight fall like a silky blanket over the city. Trails of pink clouds lingered just above the treetops, and as the color began to fade, the sky softened to gray. It started to mist, and the early evening air smelled of rain and flowers and freshly cut grass.
“We’re in for another downpour later,” Lucille predicted as she rocked back and forth. “See the way those thunderheads are piling up over the Gulf?”
“I don’t mind the rain,” Claire said.
“I know you don’t. Charlotte used to climb the walls when she had to stay cooped up inside, but you’d just sit out on the porch like we are now, and watch it rain all day long. You two girls were as different as night and day when you were little, but you both took after your daddies. William was just like you, Claire. He could sit and watch the rain for hours. I never understood one thing about that man, but I sure did miss him after he was gone. I used to lie in bed at night and ask myself over and over what I might have done that drove him to do such a terrible thing.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Mama. It was just something inside him.”
“I know that now. He was one of those people that couldn’t ever find any peace. When he’d get that far-off look in his eyes, you just knew he was studying on something bad, something that kept eating at him until he couldn’t take it anymore. I used to worry about how much you were like him. Always so quiet and gentle and keeping everything bottled up inside the way you did. But you’re stronger than your daddy ever was. Sometimes I think you’re the strongest person I know.”
“Thanks, Mama, but I don’t feel very strong right now.” A strange mood had gripped Claire ever since she’d left the collectibles shop that morning. She’d felt nervous and edgy all day, and she couldn’t seem to shake the notion that something bad was about to happen.
“You’re just out of sorts because of the accident. A trauma like that can take the wind right out of your sails. Give yourself a couple more days to get over it.”
Claire rested her head on the back of the rocking chair. “I don’t have a couple of days. I’m going back to work tomorrow.”
“Honey, you can’t work with your hand all messed up like that.”
“I can’t blow glass, but there’s still plenty I can do in the gallery. And I need the hours. Especially now that I have a hospital bill to pay.”
Lucille gave her a sidelong glance. “Your divorce isn’t final yet. You could probably file a claim on Alex’s insurance.”
“I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be right. And besides, I’ve always had someone looking after me. You or Dave or Alex. I’m thirty-three years old, Mama. It’s high time I learn to take care of myself.”
“You make it sound like you’ve been freeloading on the rest of us, but that’s just not so. You’re always doing for everyone else, Claire. Look at the way you took care of Maw-Maw before she passed away. I never could have done what you did. I didn’t have the stomach for it.”
“That’s not true. You’re taking care of me right now,” Claire said.
“It’s different when it’s your own kid. Don’t matter how old they get, they’re always going to be your babies.”
Claire stared out at the street, where the mist swirled like ghosts under a streetlight. “Can I ask you something, Mama?”
“What is it?”
“Why don’t you like Alex?”
Lucille stopped rocking and stared at her in the gathering darkness. “What in the world brought that on?”
“I don’t know. It’s just been something I’ve always wondered about.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Maybe I didn’t want to know before. But it bothered me that you couldn’t warm up to him.”
Lucille went back to rocking as she gazed out over the street. “What difference does it make now?”
“It doesn’t. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
Her mother was silent for a moment. “I never thought it was my place to say anything, but since you’re
