After easing my arm into the sling, I padded out to the living room in bare feet. Uh-oh, company, and me without a bra or panties. Too late. Simon leaped off Nana’s sofa and hurried over to kiss me on the cheek. As though I were a piece of Steuben crystal in danger of shattering, he gently led me to the sofa, all the tenderness in the world in his eyes. Since that was more than I could handle at the moment, I glanced away. A gorgeous arrangement of peach-colored roses with apricot hearts sat on the coffee table.
“They’re beautiful,” I said. “From you?”
He took my hand. “Yes. After I read the paper, I called the hospital, but you’d been discharged. I’m so sorry this happened. If you plan to press charges, let me know. I’m at your service.”
If Simon noticed my lack of underwear, he didn’t let on. His soft gray eyes never left my face, his hands clung to my fingers.
“No, no charges.” I shrugged. “Who would I charge? I have no idea who vandalized the shop. It makes no sense.”
That proved I could lie with the best of them, although Simon’s legal eagle eyes narrowed, telling me he was skeptical. Maybe I needed to brush up on my lying skills.
To change the subject, I said, “May I ask you something, Simon?”
“Of course.” He smiled. “Pop the question.”
“Were you ever in the Alexanders’ house?”
“That’s a strange one,” he replied, his smile fading.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Were you ever in the Alexanders’? Did you ever see their Monets?”
“Yes, several times, but why the third degree?”
“Oh, just curious. I wondered what you thought of them.”
“They looked like money to me. Lots of it.”
I laughed. “You’re an honest man, Simon.” I had always thought he was, but now, my confidence shaken, I wondered. Damn the thief anyway. He’d stolen far more than a multimillion-dollar painting.
The kitchen phone rang, and a moment later, AudreyAnn came into the living room, the receiver in hand. “A Jessica Jones for you, Deva.”
I mimed “thanks” and took the phone. “Hello, Jessica.”
“Deva, your housekeeper just told me you’re all right. I’m so relieved.”
“I read about your shop in today’s paper and figured you could use some good luck. Well, listen to this. Last night, I informed Morgan of our little tete-a-tete. He’s relieved I know about the Bonita house. Best of all, it’s paid for, lock, stock and barrel. No mortgage. No loans. No anything. He’s been piling up investments for years. Imagine that. He loves his little secrets, don’t you know? So not to worry about losing his account. That won’t happen.”
Jessica chatted on for a few more minutes, obviously relieved. It sure sounded like she had patched up her marriage. I was happy for her and touched that she had reached out to assure me all was well. But as I hung up, I wondered if all really was.
Morgan had kept secrets in the past, could he be keeping another one? Had he accumulated a fortune, or had he stolen one?
At nine the next morning, Simon dropped me off at the shop, promising to pick me up at five. “Earlier if you need me,” he said, before hurrying around his BMW to open the passenger door and help me out.
“Next you’ll be tossing your cloak over a puddle,” I said.
He laughed. “If that’s what it takes.”
What did it take? I waggled my fingers at him as he drove through the alley. I knew Simon was waiting for me to up our relationship from kissing good-night to staying the night. Truth was, since Jack died, I hadn’t made love with anyone…was Simon the one? He was charming and thoughtful and witty and intelligent. Handsome, too, and successful. Still, I wasn’t sure. Something more than an injured arm had to be wrong with me. With a sigh, I stepped into the shop.
The disaster crew had performed wonders. Not one shard of broken glass sparkled anywhere, the displays were all neatly arranged, and the sun shone through the new shatterproof window. As soon as I had a free moment, I’d contact a sign painter to reapply the store logo. The shop smelled of cinnamon and spice from the aromatherapy candles I sold, but the pine scent was missing. So was the Christmas tree. Had the hunk of concrete hit it? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember.
I heard someone stirring about in the storeroom. “Anybody home?”
Lee popped her head around the open storeroom doorway. “Deva! You’re back! I was just getting out the Christmas cookies.” She hurried across the shop, arms outstretched, ready to give me a hug, but at the sight of my sling, she stopped and gave me an air kiss instead. “Y’all look fine, Deva. Just fine.” She smiled, but her porcelain complexion was ashen against that one and only black dress. “I feel so bad about what happened. Who on earth would do such a crazy-minded thing?”
“I have no idea. But you know what? It showed me how many friends I have. Including you. Thanks for taking such wonderful care of the shop. I’m curious, though, what happened to the Christmas tree?”
“That rock? It plumb knocked the tree to the floor. A lot of those beautiful decorations y’all had hanging on it got broken. I saved the ones I could and told the salvage people to tote the tree away.” A worry crease etched her forehead. “I hope that was all right.”
“That was perfect.”
“The good baubles are in a box out back.”
I peered at Lee more closely. Her eyes were red. “Have you been crying?”
She shook her head so vigorously her hair whipped around her face.
“While it’s quiet, why don’t we sit down for a few minutes?” I asked. “Take your desk chair, and I’ll sit here.” I sat on a tufted bench beside the bureau plat, cradling my injured arm in my right hand. “I have some good news. A Dr. Morgan Jones wants me to design the interior of his new house. Which means as soon as he signs a contract, I can afford to pay you.”
“But-”
I held up my right hand, palm out. “Retroactive from the first day. That’s for starters. As soon as business picks up some more, you get a raise.”
Her eyes looked suspiciously wet. “That’s wonderful, Deva,” she said, but her expression didn’t match her words.
“There’s something else. Off Shoots next door is having a sale. I want you to go there today and buy another dress. Any color you like. Charge it to me.”
“But-”
“Nope. No more buts.”
She looked down at her hands without speaking.
“Lee? Is anything wrong?”
She shook her head, the motion loosening a tear from each eye.
What a stupid question. The girl was only working two jobs plus struggling with college classes. Worse, she had a control freak for a father…and a love gone awry?
“It’s Paulo, isn’t it?”
Her head bowed, she said, “I’ve been phoning him since Christmas, but he isn’t returning my calls. I’ve texted him too, every single hour, but not a word back. And he hasn’t given an art class at the Von Liebig or been by the Irish Pub either, not once. I’m so worried. If I knew where he lived, I’d pay him a visit, but I don’t.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh Deva, I’ll never see him again.”
“Oh, yes you will,” I said with more assurance than I felt. “Why don’t you give me his phone number and let me try?”
She knew it by heart. As I wrote it on a desk pad, the first customer of the day strolled in, and Lee fled to the back room to dry her tears.
