dropped it,” Kate said, adding hastily, “It was an accident—your cat startled me.”
A frown creased the flat face. “I hope you didn’t break it.”
“I hope not, too. Just let me know if it’s damaged, I’ll reimburse you.” She inched toward the door.
He shook his head. “You can’t.”
“No, really, Mr. Simnic, I’ll gladly pay for any repairs or replacement costs.”
“It can’t be replaced. It’s too valuable.”
Oh, great, a potentially litigious neighbor. Ian was going to love this.
“Whatever it is, Mr. Simnic, I’m sure we can—”
“It’s a doll.”
That startled her. Kate stared at him, trying to fit doll and this simian-looking man into the same universe. It didn’t work.
“It’s for my collection. Well, Mother’s collection.”
He reached a hand into his pocket and produced a pocket knife. For one horrible moment, as she watched his blunt fingers pinch forth the biggest blade, Kate thought he meant to use it on her. Instead, he set the box on the floor and squatted beside it, running the tip of the blade through the packing tape.
Pulling back the flaps, he scooped handfuls of Styrofoam peanuts onto the dusty floor, making little grunting noises. Multiple layers of bubble wrap appeared, and through them Kate could make out the hazy shape of something human-looking. Terrence Simnic unwrapped the layers, being careful not to jostle what was inside, reminding Kate of an archaeologist removing gauze from a mummy. Suddenly he stopped.
“She’s perfect!” It was a heavy, heartfelt whisper.
Kate stepped closer to look for herself and gasped.
Lying amid the wrapping was a porcelain doll with features fixed in a scream. The red-rimmed mouth was wide open and the glass eyes horrified. It was grotesque, but Terrence Simnic was actually smiling.
He twisted something on the back of the doll and all at once the face turned. A new expression appeared, happy, and then he turned a knob again and a sleeping face appeared.
“German. Late nineteenth century. Mint condition.” He mumbled the words, and Kate wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. He lumbered to his feet, cradling the doll in his massive arms. It wore a nightgown of yellowed white lace and he stroked the cloth.
“She’s my latest. Do you want to see the others?”
Kate hesitated, wanting to issue a polite demurral, but Terrence Simnic was leading the way to another room. “It’s in here,” he said. “Mother always kept them in the dining room.”
Reluctantly, Kate stepped after him. The dining room was papered in deep red with little crescents of gold that had faded over time. It was peeling at the corners of the high ceiling and there was water damage in one spot, spreading in concentric brown circles. A dusty, oval-shaped walnut table and six chairs stood in the center of the room, but the focal point was really the antique curio cabinets lining the wall. They were made of oak or mahogany and didn’t all match, and every shelf was literally crammed with antique dolls.
“Mother would have loved you.” Terrence crooned to the doll. He carefully unlocked one of the oak cabinets and shifted two frilly dressed baby dolls so that his newest acquisition could sit between them. “There you go, little one, there you go.”
It was spooky, the faded room and the shelves filled with dolls. There was dust everywhere but on the curio cabinets, which looked as if they were cleaned every day. They smelled faintly of furniture polish.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” This time Terrence Simnic’s question was directed at Kate. She struggled to think of something to say, but he seemed to take her silence for awe, nodding with a goofy smile on his face.
“It’s something, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes.” That she could be honest about it. It was certainly something.
“Mother took such pride in her collection,” Terrence said. “She had such a good eye and I’ve tried to match it. I’m very particular
A frown creased the flat face. “I hope you didn’t break it.”
“I hope not, too. Just let me know if it’s damaged, I’ll reimburse you.” She inched toward the door.
He shook his head. “You can’t.”
“No, really, Mr. Simnic, I’ll gladly pay for any repairs or replacement costs.”
“It can’t be replaced. It’s too valuable.”
Oh, great, a potentially litigious neighbor. Ian was going to love this.
“Whatever it is, Mr. Simnic, I’m sure we can—”
“It’s a doll.”
That startled her. Kate stared at him, trying to fit doll and this simian-looking man into the same universe. It didn’t work.
“It’s for my collection. Well, Mother’s collection.”
He reached a hand into his pocket and produced a pocket knife. For one horrible moment, as she watched his blunt fingers pinch forth the biggest blade, Kate thought he meant to use it on her. Instead, he set the box on the floor and squatted beside it, running the tip of the blade through the packing tape.
Pulling back the flaps, he scooped handfuls of Styrofoam peanuts onto the dusty floor, making little grunting noises. Multiple layers of bubble wrap appeared, and through them Kate could make out the hazy shape of something human-looking. Terrence Simnic unwrapped the layers, being careful not to jostle what was inside, reminding Kate of an archaeologist removing gauze from a mummy. Suddenly he stopped.
“She’s perfect!” It was a heavy, heartfelt whisper.
Kate stepped closer to look for herself and gasped.
Lying amid the wrapping was a porcelain doll with features fixed in a scream. The red-rimmed mouth was wide open and the glass eyes horrified. It was grotesque, but Terrence Simnic was actually smiling.
He twisted something on the back of the doll and all at once the face turned. A new expression appeared, happy, and then he turned a knob again and a sleeping face appeared.
“German. Late nineteenth century. Mint condition.” He mumbled the words, and Kate wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. He lumbered to his feet, cradling the doll in his massive arms. It wore a nightgown of yellowed white lace and he stroked the cloth.
“She’s my latest. Do you want to see the others?”
Kate hesitated, wanting to issue a polite demurral, but Terrence Simnic was leading the way to another room. “It’s in here,” he said. “Mother always kept them in the dining room.”
Reluctantly, Kate stepped after him. The dining room was papered in deep red with little crescents of gold that had faded over time. It was peeling at the corners of the high ceiling and there was water damage in one spot, spreading in concentric brown circles. A dusty, oval-shaped walnut table and six chairs stood in the center of the room, but the focal point was really the antique curio cabinets lining the wall. They were made of oak or mahogany and didn’t all match, and every shelf was literally crammed with antique dolls.
“Mother would have loved you.” Terrence crooned to the doll. He carefully unlocked one of the oak cabinets and shifted two frilly dressed baby dolls so that his newest acquisition could sit between them. “There you go, little one, there you go.”
It was spooky, the faded room and the shelves filled with dolls. There was dust everywhere but on the curio cabinets, which looked as if they were cleaned every day. They smelled faintly of furniture polish.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” This time Terrence Simnic’s question was directed at Kate. She struggled to think of something to say, but he seemed to take her silence for awe, nodding with a goofy smile on his face.
“It’s something, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes.” That she could be honest about it. It was certainly something.
“Mother took such pride in her collection,” Terrence said. “She had such a good eye and I’ve tried to match it. I’m very particular
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