shook his head.
Then he told Eve that he and his wife watched her all the time and asked her to sign his cap.
After making sure she was safely inside her car, the guard drove off, probably to see to it the phantom gang of kids weren’t hassling anyone else within his domain. Eve wasted no time doing the same. She was anxious to get home, to whatever safety there was within those walls. And to Grand, the only one who could answer the questions rioting inside her head.
But first she made one small detour. She pulled out of the garage and turned right, circling around to check out the spot where Hazard had pulled his disappearing act. She carefully counted to the level where she’d been parked.
Dead dangerous was right. It was a fifty-foot drop from where he’d taken off, straight down, ending in blacktop. Even if a man was lucky enough to survive a jump from that height, he’d be left broken and bleeding. But there wasn’t a body or a drop of blood in sight.
Just a collector my ass , she thought.
Four
“D est—” “No! Please don’t say it. Not the D word.”
Ignoring Eve’s exasperated plea, Grand continued to regard her with regal serenity, something she did exceptionally well. “If you want a different answer, my darling Eve, ask a different question.”
Eve settled for making a small, disgruntled sound and staring at the teacup in front of her. It was fine bone china, its color the soft white of heirloom pearls. The gently curved handle fit her hand perfectly, and there was a sprinkling of hand-painted red roses just below the rim. It was simple and elegant, like everything in Grand’s home, like Grand herself. She was eighty but looked and acted younger, something Eve attributed to her fiery spirit and magical T’airna genes. Her white hair was cut in an asymmetrical bob that played to her great bone structure and beautiful eyes, and she’d always had a strong, intrepid sense of style. All the color and adventure lacking in Eve’s closet could be found in Grand’s.
They were sitting at the old, polished oak kitchen table in Grand’s kitchen. She lived in a cozy three-room addition to the brick Tudor Eve shared with her sister and niece. It was a perfect arrangement. Grand had a place where she could retreat for a bit of peace and quiet, and there was a solid door equipped with dual dead bolts to keep whatever magic she chose to conjure on her own turf, out of sight and out of mind for the rest of them. Eve would have preferred to keep magic out of the house entirely, but a deal was a deal.
The door connecting their kitchens was usually left open, and that’s how Eve found it when she returned home after the auction. It was late, and as she pulled into the garage, she was afraid her grandmother might already be sleeping. She wasn’t sure she could stand to wait until morning to talk to her. But she found Grand still up and waiting with a pot of tea steeped to perfection; two teacups and a plate of lemon shortbread sat on the table. It was as if she’d known not only that Eve would come rushing in, shaken and bewildered, and in need of her special calming brew, but also the precise moment. How she always seemed to know such things was something Eve didn’t want to think about just then. She had enough magical mystery to deal with for one night.
Words usually came easily to her. She made her living stringing them together in logical order. But when she opened her mouth to tell her grandmother what had happened, out poured a jumbled tirade about magic and strange men and wild, irresistible impulses. While Eve rambled, Grand calmly nudged her to sit and tucked her favorite shawl around her shoulders. Faded blue and soft as feathers, the shawl smelled of sweet rosewater and a thousand happy memories. And all the time Grand was soothing her and pouring tea, she listened.
That was one of the wonderful things about Grand; she always listened and understood and told you exactly what she thought,
Then he told Eve that he and his wife watched her all the time and asked her to sign his cap.
After making sure she was safely inside her car, the guard drove off, probably to see to it the phantom gang of kids weren’t hassling anyone else within his domain. Eve wasted no time doing the same. She was anxious to get home, to whatever safety there was within those walls. And to Grand, the only one who could answer the questions rioting inside her head.
But first she made one small detour. She pulled out of the garage and turned right, circling around to check out the spot where Hazard had pulled his disappearing act. She carefully counted to the level where she’d been parked.
Dead dangerous was right. It was a fifty-foot drop from where he’d taken off, straight down, ending in blacktop. Even if a man was lucky enough to survive a jump from that height, he’d be left broken and bleeding. But there wasn’t a body or a drop of blood in sight.
Just a collector my ass , she thought.
Four
“D est—” “No! Please don’t say it. Not the D word.”
Ignoring Eve’s exasperated plea, Grand continued to regard her with regal serenity, something she did exceptionally well. “If you want a different answer, my darling Eve, ask a different question.”
Eve settled for making a small, disgruntled sound and staring at the teacup in front of her. It was fine bone china, its color the soft white of heirloom pearls. The gently curved handle fit her hand perfectly, and there was a sprinkling of hand-painted red roses just below the rim. It was simple and elegant, like everything in Grand’s home, like Grand herself. She was eighty but looked and acted younger, something Eve attributed to her fiery spirit and magical T’airna genes. Her white hair was cut in an asymmetrical bob that played to her great bone structure and beautiful eyes, and she’d always had a strong, intrepid sense of style. All the color and adventure lacking in Eve’s closet could be found in Grand’s.
They were sitting at the old, polished oak kitchen table in Grand’s kitchen. She lived in a cozy three-room addition to the brick Tudor Eve shared with her sister and niece. It was a perfect arrangement. Grand had a place where she could retreat for a bit of peace and quiet, and there was a solid door equipped with dual dead bolts to keep whatever magic she chose to conjure on her own turf, out of sight and out of mind for the rest of them. Eve would have preferred to keep magic out of the house entirely, but a deal was a deal.
The door connecting their kitchens was usually left open, and that’s how Eve found it when she returned home after the auction. It was late, and as she pulled into the garage, she was afraid her grandmother might already be sleeping. She wasn’t sure she could stand to wait until morning to talk to her. But she found Grand still up and waiting with a pot of tea steeped to perfection; two teacups and a plate of lemon shortbread sat on the table. It was as if she’d known not only that Eve would come rushing in, shaken and bewildered, and in need of her special calming brew, but also the precise moment. How she always seemed to know such things was something Eve didn’t want to think about just then. She had enough magical mystery to deal with for one night.
Words usually came easily to her. She made her living stringing them together in logical order. But when she opened her mouth to tell her grandmother what had happened, out poured a jumbled tirade about magic and strange men and wild, irresistible impulses. While Eve rambled, Grand calmly nudged her to sit and tucked her favorite shawl around her shoulders. Faded blue and soft as feathers, the shawl smelled of sweet rosewater and a thousand happy memories. And all the time Grand was soothing her and pouring tea, she listened.
That was one of the wonderful things about Grand; she always listened and understood and told you exactly what she thought,
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