to the tracks.
“We’re pretty early,” Jack said, climbing the steps. “The men are at the refinery, though, so it shouldn’t matter.”
Fiona was just digesting the implications of his words when the screen door squeaked open. She looked up to see a stunningly beautiful young woman standing on the threshold with a baby on her hip.
The woman cast a quick glance in Fiona’s direction before settling her brown eyes on Jack.
“You’re early,” she said sourly.
“Is that okay?”
“I guess it’ll have to be, won’t it?”
They exchanged a look loaded with meaning, and Fiona instantly felt uncomfortable. There was some subtext she wasn’t getting here, but she couldn’t very well ask about it.
The baby squirmed and filled the silence with a wet gurgle.
The woman’s gaze returned to Fiona. She gave her a brief up-and-down appraisal before stepping backward into the house and nodding for them to come inside.
When they were all three standing awkwardly in the hallway, Jack cleared his throat. “Lucy, this is the artist I told you about, Fiona Glass.”
Lucy shifted the baby to a front carry, effectively precluding the possibility of a handshake. Fiona was good at reading body language, and Lucy’s was loud and clear.
She turned her back on her guests and walked to the rear of the house. Jack followed, seeming to know exactly where he was going.
Fiona hitched her attaché case higher up on her shoulder and trailed behind them.
Why did it matter that the “men” were gone? Who lived here besides Lucy, and what sort of threat did they pose to this meeting? Once again Fiona felt her chest tightening with frustration. Jack had kept just a few too many things secret about this job, and she didn’t appreciate it one bit.
They ended up in a bright, spacious room at the back of the house. It looked like an add-on that was being used as some sort of workshop. A tabletop sewing machine occupied the far corner. Shimmery white fabric cascaded from the machine and pooled onto the carpeted floor. Behind the sewing table, bolts of white, ivory, and pale pastel material were arranged neatly on a unit of plastic shelving. A varnished plywood table filled the room’s center, and lined up to one side of the smooth work surface were plastic trays, each containing an assortment of beads, sequins, and pearls.
“Sebastian’s napping,” Lucy said, settling the infant into a playpen near the sewing station.
No one bothered to introduce the baby, who wore a lavender fleece sleeper and matching cap. As soon as Lucy put her down, she snatched up a teething ring and brought it to her mouth. She was probably about nine months old, Fiona speculated, watching her sit up among her toys. She was a beautiful baby, wide-eyed and alert.
“Jack!”
Fiona whirled around just as a dark-haired little boy charged into the room. He hurled himself at Jack’s knees and wrapped his arms around them.
“Hey, sport.” Jack mussed his hair. “Thought you were sleeping.”
The boy grabbed Jack’s hand and tugged. “You wanna see my Nintendo DS? I got it for Christmas!” The child, who looked to be about four or five, gazed up at Jack with unabashed adoration.
“Sounds good,” Jack said, making eye contact with Lucy. “Where’s Dolores?”
“Working. They all are.” Lucy turned to Fiona, addressing her for the first time. “I assume you want to do this in private?”
“That’s usually best.”
“Then Jack can watch Sebastian.” She nodded at the playpen. “Vanessa won’t bother us.”
Jack conveniently left the room with Sebastian before Fiona could pull him aside to explain a few things.
Such as, how come this felt like a hostile interview?
Fiona turned to face Lucy. They were about the same age, but Lucy dressed much younger. She wore tight jeans with frayed cuffs and a gray T-shirt that conformed to her generous breasts. She also wore half a dozen silver studs in her left ear, a silver chain belt, and ballet
“We’re pretty early,” Jack said, climbing the steps. “The men are at the refinery, though, so it shouldn’t matter.”
Fiona was just digesting the implications of his words when the screen door squeaked open. She looked up to see a stunningly beautiful young woman standing on the threshold with a baby on her hip.
The woman cast a quick glance in Fiona’s direction before settling her brown eyes on Jack.
“You’re early,” she said sourly.
“Is that okay?”
“I guess it’ll have to be, won’t it?”
They exchanged a look loaded with meaning, and Fiona instantly felt uncomfortable. There was some subtext she wasn’t getting here, but she couldn’t very well ask about it.
The baby squirmed and filled the silence with a wet gurgle.
The woman’s gaze returned to Fiona. She gave her a brief up-and-down appraisal before stepping backward into the house and nodding for them to come inside.
When they were all three standing awkwardly in the hallway, Jack cleared his throat. “Lucy, this is the artist I told you about, Fiona Glass.”
Lucy shifted the baby to a front carry, effectively precluding the possibility of a handshake. Fiona was good at reading body language, and Lucy’s was loud and clear.
She turned her back on her guests and walked to the rear of the house. Jack followed, seeming to know exactly where he was going.
Fiona hitched her attaché case higher up on her shoulder and trailed behind them.
Why did it matter that the “men” were gone? Who lived here besides Lucy, and what sort of threat did they pose to this meeting? Once again Fiona felt her chest tightening with frustration. Jack had kept just a few too many things secret about this job, and she didn’t appreciate it one bit.
They ended up in a bright, spacious room at the back of the house. It looked like an add-on that was being used as some sort of workshop. A tabletop sewing machine occupied the far corner. Shimmery white fabric cascaded from the machine and pooled onto the carpeted floor. Behind the sewing table, bolts of white, ivory, and pale pastel material were arranged neatly on a unit of plastic shelving. A varnished plywood table filled the room’s center, and lined up to one side of the smooth work surface were plastic trays, each containing an assortment of beads, sequins, and pearls.
“Sebastian’s napping,” Lucy said, settling the infant into a playpen near the sewing station.
No one bothered to introduce the baby, who wore a lavender fleece sleeper and matching cap. As soon as Lucy put her down, she snatched up a teething ring and brought it to her mouth. She was probably about nine months old, Fiona speculated, watching her sit up among her toys. She was a beautiful baby, wide-eyed and alert.
“Jack!”
Fiona whirled around just as a dark-haired little boy charged into the room. He hurled himself at Jack’s knees and wrapped his arms around them.
“Hey, sport.” Jack mussed his hair. “Thought you were sleeping.”
The boy grabbed Jack’s hand and tugged. “You wanna see my Nintendo DS? I got it for Christmas!” The child, who looked to be about four or five, gazed up at Jack with unabashed adoration.
“Sounds good,” Jack said, making eye contact with Lucy. “Where’s Dolores?”
“Working. They all are.” Lucy turned to Fiona, addressing her for the first time. “I assume you want to do this in private?”
“That’s usually best.”
“Then Jack can watch Sebastian.” She nodded at the playpen. “Vanessa won’t bother us.”
Jack conveniently left the room with Sebastian before Fiona could pull him aside to explain a few things.
Such as, how come this felt like a hostile interview?
Fiona turned to face Lucy. They were about the same age, but Lucy dressed much younger. She wore tight jeans with frayed cuffs and a gray T-shirt that conformed to her generous breasts. She also wore half a dozen silver studs in her left ear, a silver chain belt, and ballet
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