He laughed again. “Do you even know what you mean by that?”
Vi shook her head helplessly. “I suppose that a sculptor should like to carve you.”
“Me personally or my image in rock?”
It took Vi far longer than usual to follow his thought process and she giggled again. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” he said, not bothering to hide his grin. It was wide and amused, and something occurred to her that took too long to haul out.
“Oh!” she said, even though he wasn’t aware what had occurred to her. “You’re zozzled too.”
“Am I?”
“You’re grinning like a loon.”
His amused expression remained and he didn’t dispute her observation.
With a yawn, she said, “Turkish coffee and some of the ice cream. If there is any left.”
“Together?” Jack asked.
Vi nodded vigorously and he said, “That does sound interesting.”
“That means good,” she told him, “but you’re always so conservative.”
Jack turned and headed back down the stairs, and they poured into the kitchen, surprising the cook, who looked up from directing the post-party clean-up to stare at them. Vi laughed into her hand while Jack tried to explain what they wanted.
“Coffee? Like Mrs. Vi enjoys?”
“Yes,” Jack agreed. “With a dollop of ice cream.”
“More than a dollop,” Vi amended.
“Just enough to add creaminess,” the cook guessed.
“An excess,” Vi added. “Too much and then a little bit more for good measure.”
The cook nodded with the air of a woman who knew who paid her wages and who was also used to her eccentric employers. She gestured to one of the helpers who poured the coffee as Cook dug out the ice cream from the ice box and added it to the cups, putting a dollop on one and almost overflowing the cup on the other.
Vi gasped, blew Cook a kiss, and grinned around a stolen piece of bacon as they returned back up the stairs to their bedroom. She paused half-way to sip on her coffee and then sighed in glee. “I hope this is good when I’m not inebriated.”
“It is…enjoyable.”
Vi ignored Jack, closing her eyes and savoring her treat before he tugged her after him. They had barely taken another step up the stairs when Vi paused and glanced behind her. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
Vi swallowed another mouthful of coffee and headed back down the stairs.
“Vi?” Jack called.
“I heard something,” she said around a deep yawn. She paused again at the bottom of the stairs and looked over her shoulder at him. “I have the ears of a cheetah.”
Jack lifted a brow which made Vi giggle again. She blew him a kiss, took another sip of her creamy coffee concoction, and threw open the door to their library. She gasped when she actually saw someone.
“Hey now!” Vi shouted, her voice even louder from her inebriation and somewhat slurred. “What’re you doing?”
The man with a knit cap over his face jerked his head in her direction and then fled out the French doors.
“Vi!” Jack grabbed her arms, pulling her behind him before he darted after the man.
Vi gasped in horror and yelped, “My coffee treat!” as it sloshed out of the cup.
“Hargreaves!” Jack shouted as he rushed through library. “Stay, Vi!”
Vi went to cover her ears at his loudness, spilled the last of her coffee treat, and then found that the cook and one of the footmen had come running.
“Hargreaves went to bed, ma’am,” the footman said.
“Jack’s chasing a man in a cap,” Vi told him, gesturing with the empty cup towards the French doors. She stared down at her coffee-covered dress and pouted, “My treat got spilled.”
The fellow stared at her for a moment. “Perhaps you should sit down.”
“Cook, will you make me another?” Vi wandered into the library, ignoring her wet dress, and stared out the French doors. There was a noise behind her and she saw the footman had followed. “You look like a mother duck following me around. I’m not a gosling, you realize.” She laughed outrageously. “I mean duckling. Or you’re a goose. Which one should it be?”
“Ahh,” he replied, avoiding her gaze.
Vi snorted and then laughed at the sound of the snort. She looked at the mess of the library, noting that pictures had been removed from the walls and the man had thrown open cabinets and drawers, tossed the pillows from the couches and chairs and turned many over.
“What a mess.” Vi frowned and put her hands on her hips. “No one ever thinks that some poor person is going to have to clean up after their thievery.”
The footman started putting the pillows back on the couch while Vi collapsed into a chair. “My head is spinning. Please stop moving.”
“Ahhh,” the footman said again, staring at her and then beyond her as if looking for someone to save him.
“Should I get my brother?” she asked.
The footman brightened at the sheer idea.
“This feels like a Ham situation, but of course, he went home. I wonder if we should call him.”
“Perhaps?” the footman replied. He had freckles and they were adorable. His cheeks turned bright red and Vi had to think about whether she might have said her thoughts aloud.
Vi pushed to her feet and crossed to the phone. It took a moment for the operator to pick up and another moment for Vi to remember the number, but she must have asked for the wrong number because the phone rang for ages before someone finally answered, “Hill House.”
“Hill House isn’t what Ham and Rita named their house, is it?” Vi asked the footman, who had moved to straighten and return books to the shelves.
“No, ma’am,” Cook answered from the door, holding a fresh cup, and Vi gasped in joy at the replacement coffee treat.
“Pardon me?” the person on the other end of the line. “Who is this?”
“Vi,” she answered with a giggle. “Is Ham there?”
“Ham?” The voice was getting quite angry and Cook suggested, “Perhaps I might take that call for you, ma’am?”
“Ham!”
