TheCrystal Page 8

  Tamara walked to the wall and flipped on the light. She looked at her nephew and put her fingers over her mouth as if hiding a smile.

  Christopher returned his aunt’s regard. Instead of the usual flowing robes, she was wearing black jeans and a black turtleneck, not too dissimilar from his work clothes.

  Tamara pulled a cell phone out of her pants pocket.

  He dragged his mind away from his aunt’s strange attire as she began to dial. “Who are you calling?” Then he glanced at Ms. Bell and rolled his eyes.

  Not only was the woman dressed in dark colors, she’d blackened her face. He wiped his chin and glanced at his fingers. Black, no wonder Aunt Tam had been grinning. It served him right for making up to a thief.

  “Freddie, of course.”

  “For God sakes why?” Christopher exploded. Frederick Hermodson III was a judge and not a particularly young judge at that. To make matters worse, he was dotty about Aunt Tamara, or maybe just plain dotty. He’d been trying to get her to marry him for years.

  “He’s the law.”

  Gabby looked from nephew to aunt, her glance uneasy and muttered under her breath, “The nephew’s ruthless and the aunt’s crazy. I should make a break for it while I still can.”

  Tamara pointed a finger and said crisply, “Young woman, stay.” Then she tipped her chin to talk into the phone. “Freddie darling,” she gushed.

  Christopher tugged at Ms. Bell’s arm. “We may as well sit down,” he said wearily.

  Following his own advice, he sat.

  Ms Bell flopped down beside him.

  “Yes, I know it’s one in the morning, but I’ve had an intruder.”

  A squawking could be heard on the other end of the phone as Tamara held it away from her ear.

  “No, darling, that won’t be necessary.” Tamara glanced in Gabby’s direction. “I’m sure she wouldn’t hurt a fly, though she is a very formidable young woman. What I want you to do, Freddie darling, is…”

  God he wished she’d quit calling that clown Freddie darling, Christopher thought.

  “I want you to turn her over to my custody.”

  “What!” echoed through the room. One voice was deep, the other husky, but Christopher’s and Gabby’s faces wore the same indignant expression.

  “Yes, I know it’s a bit irregular, but I really think it’s the right thing to do, don’t you, Freddie darling? She was trying to steal my crystal ball you see. No. No. I’m sure she won’t murder me in my bed. Besides, I have my big strong nephew to protect me.”

  Tamara smiled. “You’re on to me. What do you say? Three months? That will be fine.”

  Tamara clicked the phone shut. “Christopher dear, show Ms. Bell to the daffodilly room. All my guest rooms are named for flowers,” she explained.

  Gabby closed her eyes, counted to ten then opened them. Two faces stared back at her. Next, she pinched herself then rubbed her stinging arm. Damn! She was awake and this wasn’t a dream.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Tamara asked, her expression concerned.

  Gabby ignored her. She craned her neck looking for a video camera. Maybe she had stumbled into a weird reality show. None was visible.

  With a resigned sigh, Gabby stood up. Apparently the old saw about truth being stranger than fiction had some validity, at least in this crazy household.

  Christopher rose too.

  Gabby’s chin jutted out, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “You can’t keep me here.”

  “Oh, yes, dear, I can. Shall I have Christopher run over and get your things?”

  Gabby watched Christopher close his eyes and move his lips, as if he too were counting to ten under his breath. He took a deep breath and said, “Aunt Tamara, even for you this is incomprehensible. What the hell are you doing?”

  She gave him a hurt look. “Well, dear, I thought that was obvious. The young woman has no intention of giving up what she believes to be her globe, even though it’s mine. The only way to keep an eye on her and the globe is to keep her here.”

  Gabby threw up her hands. “I have a job. A career,” she corrected herself.

  “I know, dear. You are an independent reporter. You can write here as long as you give me your promise not to run away.”

  “The heck I will.”

  “It will give you an opportunity to convince me the globe truly does belong to you. If you can do that, the globe is yours.”

  “Aunt Tamara, you can’t just give that damn, er, the globe away to a perfect stranger.”

  “Of course, I can, dear, it’s mine.” She turned to Gabby. “But that’s not to say I will you know.”

  “I have responsibilities. I have a dog and a cat.”

  Gabby glanced at the globe and felt herself weakening. She wanted it back.

  “I’ll have them flown here.” Tamara stuck out her hand. “Deal?”

  “Aunt Tamara, I absolutely forbid it.”

  Tamara only smiled. Her nephew didn’t know as much about women as he thought he did or at least this one, if Tamara was any judge of character and she was. If he had begged and pleaded with the tall beauty to stay, she would have left in a heartbeat, but to forbid her to stay? Tamara mentally rubbed her hands.

  Giving Christopher a defiant look, Ms. Bell stuck out her hand. Tamara took it.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal. By the way have you ever heard of Sergeant Bell of the Springfield Police Department?”

  “Why no, dear, I haven’t.”

  “You will,” Cassandra, a.k.a. Gabriella, prophesied darkly. “And I guarantee you won’t have him eating out of your hand, like darling Freddie.”

  “We’ll see,” Tamara said calmly. “Christopher, take Ms. Bell to the hotel to get her things.”

  Christopher put his head in his hands and groaned.

  * * * * *

  Gabby awoke to a familiar complaining sound. She opened one eye. A blue one stared back at her from a mere inch away, while a paw swatted her face.

  She sat straight up in bed, sending Jericho sprawling. “Rrrow.”

  “Woof.”

  “Oh, no.” Gabby tried to move but she was too late. The Chow-mix landed with a plop in the middle of the bed. She gave him an absent pat then pushed him away and looked around.

  She frowned, perplexed. Where was she?

  Memory came rushing back. Tamara James…Christopher Saint…the green crystal…the kiss. Oh no. She closed her eyes mortified as she remembered her brief, but enthusiastic response. She felt her chest heave, as she took a deep cleansing breath. Forget the kiss. Even if it had been one of the most memorable, earthshaking…

  “Give it up, Gabby, those lips come attached to an arrogant, rich—okay rich is not so bad—thief,” she said out loud and heaved a sigh of regret.

  Tamara had kept her word, was her next thought. Her animals were here. Gabby shook her head, amazed.

  She looked around her room, determined to think of something besides last night’s lip lock. The daffodilly room Tamara had called it.

  One would be hard put to have a fit of the doldrums in this cheery yellow room. Someone, Tamara she would guess, had painted a garden on the far wall, with tiny fairies flitting among the flowers. Sprays of fresh daffodils and bright red tulips sat around the room in crystal bowls.

  The satin sheets slid against her flesh as she sat up. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and crunched thick luxurious carpet with her toes.

  But while her body soaked up her sumptuous surroundings her mind ticked like a time bomb. What was she doing here? What was Tamara James up to? And why had she blatantly taunted her into trying to steal the globe then put her under house arrest?

  A thought struck her and she felt her eyes widen. Gabby addressed her audience of two. “Surely, she’s not trying to matchmake between me and the arrogant, kissable nephew?” Forget the kiss.

  Gabby burst out laughing, as she pushed herself off the bed and headed for the shower. Of course not. How crazy would that be? She stopped in mi
d-stride. She wasn’t completely certain Tamara wasn’t just a little, well, she hated to use the term crazy, but crazy. Then shrugged, who was she to talk? She saw Christopher Saint in a crystal ball.

  Maybe a shower would clear her head. She stepped out of her tee shirt and undies then opened the shower door and turned the gold handle. Warm water spurted out of the faucet. Holding out her hand, Gabby tested the water then stepped in.

  As the warm spray washed over her, Gabby sighed with pleasure. It was very nice not to have to trot down the hall to a bathroom where the fixtures were rusty and the pipes leaked.

  A bath tray held shampoos and gels of every variety. After a judicious study, Gabby reached for a loofa and a golden liquid called Wild Poppy. A gentle fragrance rose with the steam.

  Twenty minutes later Gabby stepped into the bedroom wearing a large fluffy yellow towel, with another one wrapped around her head and walked to the dresser.

  Opening a satiny oak drawer she grabbed a tee shirt that read, “Be Responsible. Spay or Neuter Your Pet” and a pair of jean shorts.

  She dressed quickly, ran a comb through her wet hair and headed downstairs, the animals following closely behind.

  Gabby’s first stop was the kitchen. Beatrice was loading the dishwasher. Gabby let out a low whistle. The room was filled with gleaming, state-of-the-art appliances.

  The maid turned. She looked at the dog and cat. “They’ve both been fed,” she said and bent over the dishwasher.

  “Thank you.”

  Beatrice didn’t look up. “Breakfast is in the breakfast room, through the swinging doors.”

  Well that made perfect sense.

  “And do you have a luncheon and dinner room?” Gabby asked politely.

  Beatrice took so long in responding, Gabby thought her poor attempt at a joke was going to be ignored.

  Her back still to Gabby, Beatrice replied. “There is a dining room for formal occasions.”

  I just bet there is. Following Beatrice’s pointing finger, she walked through white swinging doors that looked like large shutters.

  “My, isn’t this cozy.” Actually it was in spite of being rather large for a “breakfast room”. A buffet lined one wall. A large butcher-block table stood in the center of the room surrounded by leather chairs on wheels that could glide easily away from the table. A huge bouquet of pink tulips sat in the middle of the table.

  Gabby raised her head and sniffed. Coffee. She followed her nose to the buffet table and poured the dark, steaming liquid into a large black cup covered with tiny Swiss-size white polka dots.

  She set her cup on the table then went back to the buffet and began opening silver covers. Umm, more wonderful smells. Scrambled eggs. The lid made a clanging sound as she sat it back down and picked up the next. Toast. This one she sat down more gently. Bacon and sausage. Since she was a vegetarian that wouldn’t work. Hot cinnamon rolls. Now that was more like it.

  Gabby picked up a black octagon-shaped plate and began to fill it like she hadn’t eaten in years. She carried her plate over to the table and sat down.

  She took a long sip of coffee, then a bite of browned butter toast. She closed her eyes, “Umm. Heaven.”

  A nasty male voice interrupted her ambrosial state.

  “My, my we do enjoy our food don’t we? But then I’m sure it takes quite a bit to fill up a big strapping girl like yourself.”

  Gabby opened her eyes, so much for ambrosia. Raising her chin, she gave Christopher a haughty stare. At least as haughty as she could with her mouth full. Then, in spite of her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s eating nuts, she grinned. If the circles under his eyes were anything to go by, the boy was definitely suffering from sleep deprivation. Well, well, well. At least she knew who was responsible for getting Ned and Jericho.

  She swallowed. “And a good morning to you too,” she said pleasantly. Gabby gave an exaggerated yawn then stretched. She watched Christopher’s eyes narrow as the tee shirt pulled across her chest.

  “I slept like a baby.” Gabby looked up at him, one eyebrow arched as she inquired, “And you?”

  “Like a log,” he said curtly and walked to the buffet.

  Forking up eggs, Gabby watched as he passed the espresso machine and poured a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker. Gabby raised her eyebrows. She would have sworn Mr. International Playboy would have been an espresso man.

  Carrying his coffee, he sat down across from her and picked up the paper.

  “Thanks for getting the animals,” Gabby mumbled around her mouthful of eggs.

  “What makes you think I got them?” he asked from behind the newspaper.

  Gabby reached over. The paper rustled as she pulled it down.

  His left eyebrow shot up. He gave her a look that reminded her of a phrase she’d read in one of her Regency romances. It was a “lord to the peasant look”.

  She reached up and placed the long nail of her index finger on a frown line between his eyes. “This.” She moved the nail and gently touched the smudge marks under each eye. “And this.”

  At her first tap, he’d blinked and stilled, as if stunned, but when she’d moved her finger from one shadowed eye to the other, he’d jerked his head back like a nervous stallion.

  She dropped her hand.

  “I’m not the touchy-feely type. A fact I’d appreciate you remember in future, if you insist on moving in bag and baggage.”

  She smiled sweetly and drawled in a honeyed voice, “But, sugar, I believe you moved in the bags.”

  “That’s right,” he shot back. “The baggage was already here.”

  “Not much of a morning person are you?” Gabby said as she reached for the butter and spread it over her cinnamon roll.

  Christopher shuddered. “How can you eat so much and stay so, so…”

  “Big and strapping?” she supplied. “You should eat yourself. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Besides it would do you good. You’re a bit on the scrawny side.” It was a blatant lie. While he didn’t look like a muscle builder he was hardly thin, but Gabby believed in getting as good as she got and then some.

  Christopher gave her an astonished look.

  As his eyes narrowed, Gabby decided to change the subject. “How did you get the animals so quickly?” she asked.

  He winced as she took a huge bite of the cinnamon roll. “I have a plane.”

  He gave no description. No, “I have a small plane.” Not, “I have a Boeing.” Just, “I have a plane.” Like everyone has one! Gabby thought resignedly.

  “Did you tell Amy?”

  “That flighty redhead. Good God no!” He promptly buried his head back into the newspaper.

  So Christopher was not destined to become one of Amy’s conquests. She didn’t know why she should feel such overwhelming relief, but she did.

  “Poor Amy,” Gabby said. “She’ll be worried sick. She’ll think somebody broke in and stole the animals.” Gabby ignored the inelegant snort that came from behind the newspaper. “It won’t be the first time I’ve had a break-in you know.” She could feel her eyes widen as a thought struck her. “She’ll think someone broke in and call my father.”

  Christopher heard the timbre of her voice change. It had taken on a note of pure terror. He put down the paper and looked at her curiously.

  Gabby jumped up, nearly knocking over her chair and looked around wildly. “Where’s a phone?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  He watched appreciatively as she dashed to the kitchen. Her hair, now dry, flew behind her in silken strands. And she certainly filled out her jean shorts to a nicety.

  He pulled his wandering thoughts up short. “Don’t even go there,” he muttered. The woman was trouble. He’d known it from the first moment she’d crashed into him in the rain. And best not to think about those full lush lips.

  He turned back to his papers and rustled them determinedly then grinned as Beatrice’s voice came floating through the door. “Girl, will you slow down? You nearly kno
cked me off my feet.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really need to use the phone. It’s an emergency.”

  The Siamese came stalking majestically out of the kitchen, his tail waving high in the air. He sat down in front of Christopher and stared unblinkingly.

  Finally, Christopher threw down his newspaper. “Oh, all right.” He got up, went to the buffet and grabbed a piece of sausage.

  The cat followed.

  Bending over, Christopher held it out. “I’ve created a monster,” he muttered.

  Jericho took it delicately between his teeth and walked off, his tail still straight in the air.

  Christopher filled his cup while he was up. The buffet was next to the kitchen door. It was impossible not to overhear Ms. Bell’s conversation.

  “Amy, did I wake you? Well, sorry but it’s important. Who’s that in the background? Oh, well tell Georgio hello.” A pause ensued. “Well isn’t that sweet. Amy, by the way, you don’t have to feed the animals. They’re with me. Well, it’s a long story.” Caution crept into Ms. Bell’s voice. “Uh, yes as a matter of fact I have. Uh, yes, I’ll be sure and tell him. Now listen, Amy, do you have pen and paper? I want you to write down this number in case you need to get hold of me. Well I’m no longer staying there. If you must know, I’m staying with Mr. Saint’s aunt.”

  Christopher grinned. He could almost hear the featherbrained redhead quacking.

  “Yes. Yes. I’ll be sure and tell him. Did you get the number? And, Amy under no circumstances are you to tell my father where I am! Yes, Amy. Goodbye, Amy. Goodbye, Amy.” The syllable on bye was emphasized as she finally broke the connection.

  Christopher poured himself another cup of coffee and began to whistle. The restorative powers of caffeine were truly amazing. Maybe he’d eat breakfast after all. Immolating their statuesque houseguest, he heaped his plate and sat down.

  He looked up as Tamara walked into the room, a long flowing dress billowing around her. “Hello, dear.”

  He dutifully raised his cheek for her kiss as she bent over him.

  “You’re eating breakfast?” she asked in surprise.