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“What business would you say Mr. Soo was in?” I asked, once we were seated.
“My guess is book fraud.”
“That’s what I was thinking. That place was a veritable book repository.”
“Yes, it was,” he said, tearing at the loaf of thick Italian bread and dipping it in rich olive oil. “I would guess he bought and sold, but mostly brokered the deals. Books, engravings, other related artwork.”
“At least he was a good reader,” I reflected, as I took a bite of the thick, buttery prosciutto and cheese sandwich.
“Not anymore,” he said.
Derek dropped me off early at BABA and promised to come by later to pick me up. Did I dare to dream that tonight would be the night? I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
The first thing I saw when I walked inside was Alice and Naomi, whispering heatedly by the guillotine in the lower gallery.
The good news was, at least they were speaking.
When Alice saw me, she waved me over. “Brooklyn, you won’t believe what happened to Gunther.”
I glanced around warily. Because the Twisted festival was in full swing, visitors were walking through the gallery, checking out the cool displays and perusing the bookshelves.
“Why don’t we go to Naomi’s office to continue this conversation?” I said, sounding so a
“Fine,” Naomi said, and flounced off in that direction.
Once we were behind closed doors, Alice’s emotions were let loose. “He’s been arrested. Can you believe it?”
“Oh, my goodness,” I said. “Really?”
“Yes. Isn’t it awful?”
Naomi groaned. “Alice, don’t be naive. Brooklyn’s acting like she doesn’t know, but she does. Her boyfriend is Gunther’s keeper.”
Wait a minute. Even Naomi could tell I was lying? That was so unfair.
“Naomi, shut up,” I said lamely.
Alice wasn’t paying attention to either of us. “I’ve had to cancel Gunther’s lithography class, but the auction is this coming weekend. He’s our biggest name. People will expect him to be there. What will we do without him? How will we make any money on the auction?”
“Stop whining,” Naomi said.
But Alice continued her rant. “What’ll we do? We can’t cancel it now. All those people. And the food. The caterers will . . . oh, God, the caterers.” She stopped and tried to catch her breath, but she couldn’t. She began to wheeze uncontrollably.
“Alice, you’re hyperventilating,” I said, alarmed. “Naomi, do you have a paper bag or something she can breathe into?”
“Why would I have a paper bag? Just . . . make her stop.”
Alice’s wheezing was louder and more frantic. Her eyes were wide with panic. Just as I thought she might pass out, Naomi stepped in front of her and slapped her across the face.
“There,” Naomi said, wiping her hands together. “Maybe that’ll chill her out.”
“Jeez, Naomi, have a little compassion,” I said.
But Alice’s breathing immediately began to slow down. She took a few controlled gulps, then nodded to indicate she was okay. She sank down on the nearest chair and flopped over to put her head between her legs.
Naomi and I exchanged a look. Alice was absurdly fragile. Everything set her off. Would she make it in this job? I had my doubts. Especially if she had to work with Naomi every day.
After a few minutes of stiff silence, Alice finally lifted her head, slowly drawing in air and exhaling. “Okay. Okay, I’m better. Sorry. I kind of flipped out there.”
“Kind of?” Naomi said, her tone indicating just how appalled she was. Maybe she was a little more like Layla than we’d all thought. But honestly, right now I couldn’t blame her. Poor Alice was a basket case.
“Look,” Naomi said. “I’ve just put myself in charge of the Saturday-night gala and auction. You can’t handle it. I don’t want the paramedics ru
Alice waved her hand weakly. “Fine. You handle it. I’ll watch this time, then maybe take on the next event.”
“Yeah, sure,” Naomi said with a sneer. “I’ll handle everything like I always do.”
I checked my watch. “Listen, I’ve got a class to teach,” I said. I didn’t want to get in the middle of another fight if these two took off on each other again.
“Yeah, whatever,” Naomi said, and walked out of the office muttering, “Freaks. I’m surrounded by freaks.”
Concerned, I looked back at Alice. She raised her head slowly and gazed up at me, a satisfied smile on her face.
Realization dawned slowly. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting her to smack me like that.” But then she shrugged contentedly. “It makes her happy if she thinks she’s in charge. I’ll watch to make sure she doesn’t get too drunk with power and start thinking she owns the place. But things should run a little smoother from here on out, don’t you think?”
During the di
“He’s still having nightmares,” she said. “I’m worried.”
“Does he know what they’re about?”
“He won’t talk about it. He sleeps a lot. I’ve made a healing charm bracelet and he wears it all the time. And I’m trying out a few spells on him. I just can’t remember if I do the banishment spell during the full moon or the waxing moon.”
“Mom, you’re kind of new at this Wicca business. Don’t go changing him into a black cat or something.”
“Silly, Gabriel wouldn’t change into a black cat.”
“Good.”
“No, he would much more likely turn into a raven.”
Oh, boy.
“Anyway,” she continued, “your father has been keeping him company, discussing wine and world events and such. And A
“I would think so,” I said wryly, then told her I’d try to get up there the next weekend to visit him.
“He’ll be so happy to hear that, sweetie. He’s a darling man, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is,” I said, laughing. “But, Mom, be sure to count the silverware before he leaves.”
What with Layla’s death and funeral, my students had lost out on several hours of class time, so during Thursday night’s class, I gave them the option of a makeup class on Friday night. It was a sad statement on my personal life that I was available on a Friday night, but at least I wouldn’t be alone. All my students were available, too.
After I once again demonstrated the process of centering the boards and spine stiffener on the cloth covers, and gluing the endbands in place, the students progressed to within several steps of completing the traditional journals they’d started earlier in the week.
As promised, Derek picked me up after class and we drove to my place. I had a bottle of champagne waiting in my refrigerator and I could picture us cozied up on my couch, sipping the bubbly and nibbling on warm brie and toast.
He parked his car in the visitors’ space in my garage. We took the elevator up to my floor and slid open the heavy metal gate. Hand in hand, we walked to my door. I was nearly vibrating with anticipation.
“Yoo-hoo, Brooklyn?” Vi
I moaned out loud.
Derek’s voice was low and husky. “Don’t answer. She’ll go away.”
The temptation was irresistible, but not very neighborly. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. Wincing, I called out, “Hi, Vi
Her light footsteps pattered down the wide hall.
“We have—oh, hello, Derek,” Vi