Pane and Suffering by Cheryl Hollon Page A

measuring up for demolition. Savannah watched as he moved over to the building next door and began pointing his laser at its roof.
    She turned back to the workshop and saw Jacob deep in concentration working on painting the next piece. She addressed the errant cut she made and split the glass along the impromptu tangent. Then she scored the curve again using a lighter hand. She split the glass again and took it over to the panel and trial fitted the new piece. It was nearly perfect. Maybe she could do this.
    The bell on the front door jangled again.
    â€œI thought I locked the door.” She dashed into the display room and nearly bumped into Edward who was carrying a tray with a plate of cranberry scones along with two cups.
    â€œYou need to eat something, so I thought you should meet up with my scones.”
    â€œThey smell heavenly. Come on back to the office. She raised her voice. “Jacob! Mr. Morris has brought us some scones.”
    Jacob peered around the corner of the workshop door and glanced at the tray. “I’ve eaten lunch, Miss Savannah.” Then he disappeared.
    Edward shrugged. “His diet is strictly controlled by his parents . . . and also himself by that token. Food issues have an unusual interest as one of his obsessions. One week he refused to eat anything but blueberries. His lips turned Smurf blue.”
    â€œExactly how long has Jacob been here?” Her father had told her when he took Jacob on, but she couldn’t remember how long ago that had been.
    â€œOnly a few months, but I understand he’s doing quite well.” Edward set the tray down on a little table against the wall of the office. He lifted both to a spot near the desk and moved a gray metal folding chair next to the desk. He picked up one of the cups and placed it in Savannah’s hands. “Now, tuck in.”
    She sat in the desk chair, took the cup, and sipped the tea. She looked up. “Bold?”
    â€œOh, yes. It’s my version of English Breakfast. I mix all the teas for Queen’s Head and we get some very fussy customers, indeed. I still don’t have the Earl Grey right. The occult bookshop owner keeps telling me it’s too mild.”
    â€œDid you bring scones to Dad every day? This looks like a regular routine for you.”
    â€œWell spotted.” Edward grinned wide. “We had a breakfast coffee and afternoon tea ritual going on since I opened Queen’s Head three months ago. He reminded me so much of my pa back in London. He missed you as well. I think it did us both good.”
    â€œI’m ashamed that I didn’t know that. He mentioned the pub. Said I would like the beer.”
    â€œHow’s the exhibit coming along? John mentioned that it would be soon, right?”
    â€œVery soon. It opens two weeks from tomorrow. I need to call my partner today and let him know things are a little more involved here.”
    â€œPartner?”
    â€œUm, not in that way at the moment. Ken Silver-hawk is co-artist for the joint exhibit. He’s also my assistant when I’m creating a large piece in the glass studio and my ex-boyfriend. It’s complicated.” She shrugged and took another sip of tea as she glanced at Edward. Should she tell him about her dad’s note? Could she trust him?
    Dad had apparently liked Edward. I should trust that.
    â€œI found a note from Dad.”
    Edward sipped his tea and looked up at Savannah over the rim. “I’m not surprised. He was worried about something but wouldn’t talk about it.”
    She turned to the open desk, pulled out the envelope marked SAVANNAH and handed it to him. He glanced at the warning, pulled out the notebook, and scanned the writing. His eyes first widened to saucers and then narrowed in concentration. “What does this mean?”
    â€œAfter the warning is a cipher that Jacob helped me solve. Well, honestly, he solved it. It tells me to go to a location that only Dad and