Страница 34 из 60
“But Layla had confidence in her.” That was Cynthia’s voice. “I’m sorry, Naomi, but she didn’t feel the same way about you.”
“Well, Layla’s dead now,” Naomi said pointedly. “And I’m the only one who knows how to run this place.”
“And we agree, dear,” Tom said gently, trying to placate her. “That’s why we’re giving you a raise and a more prestigious position. What more do you want?”
“I want the executive director position,” she snapped.
“Naomi, don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“I’m not the one making it harder. You are. Why shouldn’t I fight for what I want?”
“Because we’ve made our decision.”
“But it’s not the right decision,” she said, her voice rising. “I’m the one who does all the work and some new-comer gets the job? Not fair!”
“Naomi, please,” said Cynthia. “We’re only doing what we think Layla would want us to do.”
“For God’s sake, stop kowtowing to Layla,” she cried. “I know what you thought of her. How can I be sure you didn’t kill her?”
There was silence.
“Whoa,” Alice whispered.
I had to agree—that was harsh. Even if I’d had the same thought five minutes ago.
“I’m sorry, dear, but the board has made its decision.”
“You’ll be sorry, all right. You’ll all be sorry.”
The door flew open and Naomi ran out, then stopped when she saw Alice.
“You!” she cried, pointing. “You knew all along. Are you happy now?”
“I didn’t. Naomi, I—”
“Stay out of my way, you troublemaker.”
“You’re upset,” Alice said softly, “so I’m going to let that go. Maybe we can talk later and work things out between us.”
“Oh, buzz off, all of you.” Then Naomi marched down the hall and disappeared into the crowd.
I turned and looked at Alice, who was holding her stomach and swaying back and forth.
“Are you going to be sick?”
She nodded her head vigorously.
“Go.” I pointed and she raced off down the hall.
So, I thought. The formerly dowdy young Naomi has inherited a spine after all. Along with her aunt’s temper.
Cynthia walked over, looking shell-shocked. “Did you hear any of that?”
“Some of it,” I confessed. “She was pretty upset.”
“It was worse up close. I’m worried she’ll quit because, unfortunately, she’s right. She knows how this place runs.”
“She won’t quit,” I said with certainty. “This job is her life. Give her a few days to calm down.”
“I feel so bad,” Cynthia said. “Her aunt just died and now this.”
“You had to make a decision quickly,” I said, touching her shoulder in understanding. “They’ll just have to learn to work together.”
“I don’t know about that,” Cynthia said, shaking her head in apprehension. “Naomi looked like she wanted to kill us all.”
Chapter 13
Any thoughts of spending time with Derek after the party were squelched once again when Gunther the Troll a
But Gunther had insisted the fancy di
Derek wondered as well. Knowing him as well as I thought I did, I knew his own calendar would be accurate and up-to-the-minute. So that meant Gunther was lying. In the end, though, Derek relented for the sake of client goodwill. I was outwardly gracious in defeat but privately irate. Did Gunther know that Derek and I had made plans? Did he care? And how fancy could a di
“Oh.” How stupid was I? There would be women there, of course. Gunther was a good-looking guy, an internationally known artist. He could drum up a wild party with one phone call.
“Ugh.” I so didn’t need the image of Derek surrounded by wild, eager party girls. I took a deep breath and shoved those thoughts right off the bridge, into the bay where they belonged.
As he said good night to me, Derek whispered that his original plan had been to spend the evening with me. It was clear what he meant and it tickled my heart, though I would’ve preferred that other parts of me be tickled instead. But enough about my sorry excuse for a love life.
I was grabbing my coat from the deserted back cloakroom when someone tapped my shoulder, effectively scaring the living daylights out of me.
“Huh. Brooklyn.”
My chest stuttered in fear. But it was just Ned. No worries. He’d caught me off guard, that’s all. “Hey, hi, Ned. How’re you holding up?”
“ ’Kay,” he said, his gaze darting every which way. “Weird stuff.”
Those three words were the most Ned had said to me in all the years I’d been coming here. “That’s to be expected, I guess. But you still have a job, right? Everything will work out, right?”
“Huh. Me and my printing press.” As he spoke, he chewed the skin around the nail of his ring finger. “We’re a team.”
“You sure are,” I said casually, though inside I was starting to wonder why Ned had chosen tonight and me to demonstrate his nascent social skills. “Well, I’d better be going now. Good night.”
“You’re smart.”
I shifted back, surprised. “Thanks.”
“Huh.” His lips thi
I frowned. “I’m sorry, Ned. Was Layla mean to you?”
“Huh.” He looked around furtively, then whispered, “I see things.”
“Huh.” Now I sounded like him. “What sort of things?”
“You watch out,” he muttered, then added, “Okay, g’night.” And he shuffled out of the room.
I opened my mouth to call him back, then shut it. What things had he seen? Flummoxed, I glanced around again, then shook off the chills I felt from his last statement.
I see things.
Right now, I couldn’t think about the things Ned had seen. My life was already weird enough.
I see things.
Was Ned watching me? I buttoned up my coat and headed for the front door, where I turned and stared back at the room. I didn’t see Ned but I knew he was in there somewhere, watching. I just couldn’t figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
As I passed through the gallery, I noticed Naomi swilling wine and holding court by the bar. Seconds later, Inspector Lee walked back inside the gallery with two uniformed cops.
She skirted the crowd and moved directly toward Naomi. I saw the moment Naomi grasped what was happening. Her eyes widened and she turned and walked away quickly. Lee signaled for the cops to go after her, down the hall that led to the bathrooms.
Poor Naomi. She was not having a good night.
Monday’s class had been canceled due to Layla’s memorial service and wake, so Tuesday evening I was back in my classroom laying out supplies at each student’s place for the traditional journal they would create over the next three nights. Heavy cardboard matte, already cut to size, for the boards. Signature pages cut to fit. A thin piece of spine stiffener. I’d also laid out more pieces of cloth on the side counter for them to choose from. There was every conceivable pattern and color for the covers and heavy construction paper for the pastedowns, the decorative paper glued to the inside covers to hide the dull boards and ragged turnings.
Alice arrived a few minutes early and helped me assemble the tools we would need this week. After expressing confusion and concern about last night’s confrontation with Naomi, she changed the subject and raved about our weekend visit to Sonoma. Then she asked about Gabriel.