Halos (5 page)

Seven

T
HE COLD OUTSIDE SEEMED LESS SEVERE as she made her way back to Granny’s; the string of jingle bells almost cheery. If the woman she’d spoken with earlier was Granny, she held her age well. She’d been polite in her rejection. Definite, but polite. Alessi waved. “I’m back again.”

The woman sent her a concerned glance. “I really don’t have any positions.”

“I’m just going to find a new sweater.” Alessi passed the antique glassware, china, and dolls, a trunk of gloves, collars, and scarves, and wove between chairs, lamps, and farm implements. The rack of vintage clothing would be beyond her means, but there was a section marked nearly new and she headed there. “I need something nice and warm to work in.”

“You found a job?” She probably didn’t mean to sound so incredulous.

“Bennet’s Books,” Alessi said. “Just temporarily, until they find my car.”

The woman didn’t ask what she meant. The car didn’t seem to be a subject people wanted to discuss. “You’re working for Steve?” Granny slipped on a pair of half lenses that added years to her face.

Alessi circled the rack. “At least as long as it takes him to inventory his new stock.”

Granny nodded at that. “Yes, I knew he went after an estate collection.”

“Well, he got it. Lots of books. They’re heaped up in back.” She’d caught a glimpse when he made his escape.

The woman must have decided to believe her because she said, “Do you want something seasonal?”

Alessi studied the red-and-green sequined sweater the woman pulled from the rack. “It’s really pretty.” But considering the limitations of her wardrobe and the few weeks until Christmas, not practical. “I guess not, though.” She wished again for the ribboned cashmere. It had been such a find. The thrift stores up the coast were sporadic treasure troves.

“Ah, this one.” The woman held out a long winter-white mohair. “This was Amanda Bier’s, special order from Saks. I’ll swear she only wore it once. She’s dreadful in white. But with your height and coloring …”

Alessi gathered the sweater into her hands. Soft as the goats it came from. “Do you have a changing room?”

The woman brought her to the back and flipped the light switch on in a tiny booth with a wavy mirror slanting to the left. Alessi closed the door and pulled off her shirt. This pearl-dotted white one rivaled her ribboned favorite. Probably even better quality, certainly less wear. She pulled the mohair over her head and let it fall.

“How’s it looking?” Granny asked outside the door.

“It’s really nice.” Amanda Bier might not look good in white, but she did. She flipped over the tag dangling from the sleeve and sighed. $39.99. She should have checked before she tried it.

“Let’s have a look,” Granny said.

Alessi opened the door.

“Oh.” The woman clasped her hands. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s really pretty. But I don’t have that much money.”

“Amanda paid almost two hundred dollars for it new.”

Alessi nodded. “I’m sure it’s worth your price, but I need something under ten dollars.” She’d part with half the windfall from Steve’s pocket, but not all. He hadn’t even said what he’d pay her for working the store. Maybe he didn’t mean to pay her at all—just let her stay there.

Granny tapped her chin with a finger. She looked into Alessi’s face, then down at the tag. “Oh, it’s a green tag? That’s fifty percent off.”

Alessi hadn’t seen anything about a green-tag sale, but that did make a difference. Unfortunately not enough. She groaned softly. All Steve’s money. Her whole windfall.

Granny flicked a fleck of lint from the sleeve. “That’s only twenty dollars, a steal for that quality.”

It was true, and she’d be tempted under other circumstances. She knew a good thing when she found one. She sighed. “I’d sure like to say yes. But my purse was stolen with my car, and I only have twenty dollars to my name. Do you have anything under ten?” Alessi absently petted the softness of the sleeve.

Granny’s features shifted. “All right, you can have it for ten since you’re new in town. And Amanda doesn’t need the money.”

Alessi wrapped herself in her arms. “Wow. That’s great. Are you sure?”

The woman adjusted the shoulder. “It’s a very nice sweater. But Amanda’s things always linger.”

Alessi could not imagine why, but she sure was glad.

“I’m Stacie, by the way. Since we’re neighbors, by shops at least.” Alessi held out her hand. “Alessi Moore.”

“Well, Alessi, you have the long waist to do that sweater justice. Do you want to wear it or sack it?”

Again Alessi petted her arms. “I’ll just keep it on.” She ducked into the changing room and scooped up her old shirt and Steve’s jacket. She paid for the sweater and smiled hugely. “Thank you so much.”

“I’ll bag that other for you.” Stacie tucked Alessi’s shirt into a sack. “Tell Steve hello.”

Alessi noted the gold-and-diamond band on Stacie’s hand. “I’ll tell him.” She scooted back out to the snow falling in earnest. Stacie certainly had the Christmas spirit, and Alessi found a kindling of her own. She turned her face up, recapturing some of yesterday’s wonder, and nearly walked into a heavyset man with a paper bag. “Excuse me. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He said nothing, just scowled as he passed her by.
Scrooge. “Are there
no work-houses, no prisons,”
she mouthed after him. Then almost as if he’d heard her, he turned and mumbled, “Pardon me.”

She gave him a wave and went back into the bookstore, took off the jacket, and set it behind Steve’s desk with the sack. She didn’t see him in the store. Was he hiding again? She went through the back doorway and found him taping half a dozen mailing boxes by the door.

She leaned on the steel shelf along the wall. “I thought maybe you were hiding again.”

He turned, focused his gaze on her sweater, then raised it to her face. “You got that for twenty bucks?”

“Actually ten, for being new in town and green-tag day.”

Steve turned back to the box and stretched the tape over the seam. “Stacie felt sorry for you.”

That stung. “Must be the Pity Me sign on my forehead.”

He straightened. “More likely she did it to spite Amanda.”

“How do you know it was Amanda’s?”

He didn’t answer, just said, “It looks nice on you.”

“Thanks.” But she wasn’t going to leave it at that. “You must know her.”

“Oh yeah.” He gripped an armful of books and stood up.

“A piranha?”

“The school marm.”

Alessi laughed. “That was good. I wouldn’t have guessed you witty.”

He stopped and cocked his head. “Just humbug Scrooge?”

“More like Heathcliff. With a gripe against the world.”

He studied her a moment. “I presume you mean Bronte’s Heathcliff, not the fat ugly cat.”

She laughed again. “Yes, I meant Emily’s timeless character.”

He stacked the boxes and pushed past her toward his desk.

“Are those orders?” She motioned toward the boxes he’d left.

“Yep.” He circled around to his computer.

“Rare books?”

“Moderately.” He sat.

She looked around for something to do. “Are you getting lots of orders for Christmas?”

“Yes. I still have quite a few to locate and process.”

She leaned a hip on his desk. “How do you find them?”

He glanced up. “I have a special database I’ve built up. Actually, my father started it and joined with people around the world with collections like ours.” His attention and his fingers went back to his work.

“Like us, they’re constantly on the lookout for estates and collections becoming available. Then we list what we’ve acquired and, when someone needs a certain tome, we search each other’s stock and make a deal.”

It touched her that he still included his deceased father in the ownership. “That’s a great setup. I wonder what Ed would have thought of it.”

“Ed?” He looked up again, his fingers pausing on the keys.

“The man I worked for.”

“Your best friend who had a stroke.”

Her throat tightened a little at his tone. “Yes. Sometimes people wanted some hard-to-find title, and he’d search the Internet, but he didn’t have much luck.”

“You have to know where to look.”

The little bell jingled on the door and Alessi turned. A very shapely woman entered. Her red cable-knit sweater had what must be a mink collar around her ivory neck and was belted at the waist. Diamonds the size of her earlobes glittered through strands of coifed platinum hair. Her lips matched her sweater, with a glamour dot of gloss centered on her bottom lip, visible to the back of the store. Her eyes were a little narrowly placed, but she extended them a good distance with an artful liner pencil. In Palm Beach she would have been another beautiful face; in Charity she looked gaudy.

Alessi started forward but made it only past the first case from the back. “Hi. May I …”

The woman turned and stared. “That’s my … Where did you get that sweater?”

“You must be Amanda.” She said it loudly enough for Steve to make his retreat.

But Amanda was quick. No lingering over racks for her. She swept past on a gale and caught him rising from his chair. “There you are. I heard you were back.”

“Just last night.”

She stood her red nails on his desk like soldiers at attention. “I will not take no for an answer.”

He finished standing and pushed the chair in. “No to what?”

“I insist you have Christmas at my house. No more pining.”

Steve clicked his fingers and gave a soft grunt. “Sorry, I’ve got plans.”

“What plans?” She leaned forward. “Ben and Dave will be with Mary and Diana. I asked. That leaves you all alone.”

He started around the desk, lifting a book as he went.

“Do
not
tell me you’ll be here with these musty old books.”

“No.” He opened the case and slid his volume between two others that matched, but he was starting to waver.

“What, then?”

“I have a date.” Definitely unconvincing.

“With whom?”

A more caustic tone Alessi had never heard, and Steve was crumbling. She stepped into their midst. “With me.”

Steve froze midstep, then turned to face Amanda. “With Alessi.” When his hand touched the small of Alessi’s back, she managed a smile.

Amanda’s eyelids lowered as she inched up to Steve, heat rising from her skin in waves. Alessi imagined touching her with a wet finger to hear the sizzle.

“Fine.” Amanda gave her a frosty look and stalked out. Steve took his hand away. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Who were you going to say?”

“I don’t know.” He studied the bookshelf as though he’d forgotten what he just put there.

“Volume four—between three and five.”

He jerked up. “Thank you.” He took the next book from the stack, checked the code he’d initialed on the paper he’d slipped inside the cover, and carried it to a shelf midway toward the front. Alessi closed her eyes and drew a slow breath. What on earth had made her step in like that? Her rescue mentality kicked in at the worst times.

Steve came back and glanced her way. “Alessi—”

“I don’t know why I said it.” She folded her arms. “You just looked panicked.”

“I wasn’t panicked.” He scowled, taking the next two books in the stack. “And now word will spread. Amanda’s probably spouting indignation from one end of town to the other.”

Great. Now he blamed her. Alessi said, “Well, I’ll be gone by Christmas. I might even be gone tomorrow.” She picked up a book and read the initials on the paper slip. “You’ll have to find another excuse.” She started for that book’s section, but he caught her arm. She looked into his face, hoping he was not going to scold her further.

“Do you know where to put that?”

She pointed. He let her go, but when she came back, he said, “I was handling it.”

“You’d be spending Christmas with Amanda.”

“I …” He scowled. “Funny how easily that lie sprang to your lips.” She swallowed hard, not even pointing out that it was his lie that started it. And he’d certainly gone right along.

He sighed. “Forget it now. You seem to know what you’re doing. Help me shelve these.”

They stocked the two piles of books he’d processed so far, then Steve looked at his watch. “It’s almost two. Why don’t you go get some lunch.”

“All right.” She put his jacket back on, though the sweater hung down beneath it and looked silly. She didn’t care. She walked out, back straight. She had no illusions—Amanda Bier she was not, even in the woman’s sweater. And she was certainly not in the school of piranhas. It was a major feat just working with Steve Bennet; any personal involvement would be emotional suicide.

Eight

S
TEVE WATCHED HER GO. Something in the way she held herself walking out told him he’d managed that badly. Why had she come to his rescue? He looked panicked? Possibly. Like it or not, Amanda was attractive, and he might have found himself in her teeth if Alessi hadn’t been there. He’d almost succumbed to her allures the last time, and the only thing that saved him then was contemplating the morning after. And after and after and after.

A constriction not unlike a boa’s coils seized his throat. He would never entertain those thoughts again, not with Amanda or anyone else. Spending Christmas alone was just the ticket, though now he was in a different fix. If Alessi left before Christmas, he would not only have no excuse, he’d have a new jilting pumping blood into the water. Amanda would spread word of his involvement with the new girl, and when that girl fled town, it would be just like the last time.

He slammed his fist on the desk. Ego aside, he wanted to walk the streets without compassionate females stalking him. Not that there were so many in Charity, but they came from miles around. There was a solution, and she could hardly refuse since she’d interfered in the first place.

Two and a half weeks wasn’t asking much, especially since she’d lost her car and wasn’t likely to have it back soon. Of all the things missing lately, Sheriff Roehr had come up with exactly zero. It was something of a mystery, which was hard to accomplish in any small town, much less one with Charity’s particular attributes. If there was a culprit in Charity, he or she was closemouthed. Steve shook his head. He had a unique perspective, being of Charity yet estranged, but even he had no quick explanation.

Cooper Roehr would have to make an effort, and maybe he would actually come up with the car. As far as Steve had heard, nothing that large and expensive had turned up missing. In the meantime, Alessi might change her mind about calling her uncle…. He’d have to stop pushing that. And she would need certain basics like food, clothing, personal items….

He could offer her paycheck up front, covering the time until Christmas. And he could concede his position in the storeroom. She would be more comfortable in the house with Dave and Ben. Yes, that was the ticket. Keep her safe and comfortable. In fact, she’d be the perfect shield to get him through the holidays with the least interference.

By the time she came back, he was ready. “Alessi, I’ve been thinking….”

“So have I.”

He frowned. If he didn’t get it out first, it might not sound right.

She took off the jacket and laid it on his desk. That didn’t look good, especially when she reached for the bag that held her other shirt.

“I know you meant well giving me this job—”

He held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say, and you’re right. The remark about lying was out of line.” After all, what did he know about her? Every word of her story might be true, as improbable as it sounded. He stopped that thought before he ended up like Ben and Dave, gulping it whole. “You did what you thought I needed.” He stood up and walked around to her. “My personal business is not your concern, and I was wrong to involve you.” But her involvement was precisely what he needed.

She pushed her hair back in what he recognized now as a defensive gesture.

“The fact is, I do need your help. This was a huge collection I acquired, and I’ll be days researching some of the finds. If you could just stay through Christmas, I won’t make you deal with any of the women who come in for anything besides books.” He wouldn’t need to if Amanda spouted the news as he expected. If any women came in and saw Alessi, it would only enhance the situation in their minds.

Alessi looked at him, hazel eyes penetrating.

“And,” he said, “I want you to stay at the house with Ben and Dave. It’s more comfortable and safer. I can manage here and go home to eat and shower.”

She tipped her head. “You’re more full of it than I thought.”

“I’m what?” His jaw actually dropped.

“What if I hem and haw?”

He swallowed. She had him. “How about I pay you now for the time until Christmas?”

She laughed. “Holiday overtime?”

“No.” He frowned. “I just look like I’m made of money.”

She glanced over at the shelf. “Actually, I wondered who on earth you sold this stuff to.”

“Not many in Charity.” He glanced over his cases. “I get some traffic from neighboring cities, but as I said before, it’s an Internet enterprise. People all over the world know what I have.”

“Oh.” She ran her fingertip over his paperweight.

“I meant that about needing your help, by the way.” She nodded without looking.

“Six dollars an hour plus room and board. I’m open from ten to six every day except Sundays.”

“Why not Sundays?” Now she did look, and he guessed there was more in her question than the obvious.

“That was my father’s philosophy.”

“And yours?”

“Are you asking if I keep the Lord’s Day?”

She shrugged. “It’s none of my business. You just don’t seem …” Now it would come, and he deserved it. But she left it hanging.

“Alessi, I’m sorry. I’ve been a bear from the start of this.”

“Well, I did invade your den,” she said.

“Any kind of gentleman would have accepted that gracefully.” He didn’t want to lay it on too thick, or she’d see through him again. Or maybe he really was sorry he’d been inhospitable. He couldn’t quite conjure his previous animosity.

She tucked her hands into her pockets. “I guess if you want my help, I can stay. And I’ll accept my pay up front so I can reimburse Ben for my toothbrush and my lunch.”

“You had lunch at the gas station?”

“I wasn’t sure how long I’d have to stretch that last ten dollars you loaned me. Ben said I could run a tab until I get my purse back.” She sighed. “I had almost a thousand dollars in my purse.”

He kicked himself for not considering her situation but only said, “That’s a lot of traveling cash.”

“It was everything I had.” Her tone lacked the self-pity he would have expected. Maybe she’d stolen the thousand dollars from her uncle as well.

“What did you eat for lunch? Corn nuts?”

“Cashews.”

He snatched his store keys from the desk. “Come on, let’s get some real food.” He expected a smile or something. Did she realize what a concession he’d just made?

She reached for the jacket and pulled it on. “That should set Amanda on her ear.”

“What do you mean?”

“Us having lunch, and it’s not even Christmas?” She snapped the top snap and worked down.

He actually hadn’t intended the invitation for effect, but it wasn’t surprising she’d taken it that way. “If you’d rather not, I understand.”

“I’m hungry enough to eat with Hannibal Lecter.” He grimaced. “Thanks.”

She followed him to the front, waited while he set his return time on the door sign and then locked the door. He wanted to apologize again but wasn’t sure why. None of this was his fault. She’d lost her car, weaseled her way into his store, and pronounced herself his date. He was only going along.

She turned her frank face to him. “You ought to hold my hand. That’s a picture that paints a thousand words.”

He stopped still, staring at her. He did not want that picture painted inside him. “I ought to?”

“Even if you don’t want to.”

“What if I want to?” It came out hoarsely.

“Then you’re in trouble. After Christmas I’m out of here.”

That was just the answer. He took her hand, felt the strength of it, the chill at the tips of her long fingers. How long had it been since he’d cradled a woman’s palm against his, carried her along beside him? Alessi was nothing like Barb, her hand larger and firmer than Barb’s soft, petite fingers. He had only to turn sideways to catch Alessi’s glance, not look down as he had to the heart-shaped face of the woman he’d loved. He kicked himself. What was he doing?

“Where are we going?” Her voice brought him back.

“Moll has killer pot roast.”

“Good. You can take the pole out of your back.”

Frowning, he let go her hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders. Definitely less disparity in height. It was nice not to have to stoop. She turned, a little surprised.

“Loose enough?” He smiled.

Surprisingly, she smiled back. “I’d almost think you meant it.”

“Well, right now I do. I appreciate your help.” He steered her into Moll’s, raising the eyebrows of the diners inside. Alessi was right. He’d just sent them a Kodak moment. Lonely, jilted Steve Bennet has a new love interest. Oh boy. Lest the drama get out of hand, he let her go and motioned her toward a booth near the back.

She slid into the seat. He liked the way she folded instead of scooching like Barb. But Barb’s feet had hardly reached the floor. She loved being tiny, used it to make him feel big and capable and protective. He hadn’t realized until it was too late that it was himself he’d needed to protect.

Alessi picked up her menu, then laid it down immediately. “Did you say killer pot roast?”

He slipped his paper napkin to his lap. “I did.”

“Then that’s what I’ll have,” she said. “We’ll make it two.”

“Just like some old couple.” She stashed the menu back behind the condiments.

He cocked his head and eyed her. “I can’t imagine you old.”

“I probably won’t be.”

Odd. “What do you mean?”

“My mother died at thirty-two. Breast cancer. It’s hereditary.” She picked up her fork and balanced it like a tree.

“Hereditary factors, maybe. But that doesn’t mean you’ll get it. Or that you’ll die of it. You said she could have gotten help.”

She held the fork upright with one finger across the tines. “I think both parents dying early is a sign, like a warning for me.”

“What happened to your dad?”

“Boating accident. The big sailboats that people charter? He took his out one night and never came back.”

“You can’t call that hereditary.”

“No,” she said.

“Did they recover the boat?”

She laid the fork back on the napkin. “What was left of it.”

Moll came to their table, wiping her wet hands on her apron. “Pot roast for you, Steve?”

“Two.” He looked at Alessi. “What do you want to drink?”

“Do you have root beer?”

Moll wrote without answering, then walked away. Steve looked at Alessi sitting across from him, unsure of what to make of her. If she was a con, she stayed more consistent than he would expect. Her car might have been stolen from her in Charity, but as to it being hers in the first place … He still suspected she couldn’t contact her uncle because she’d taken the car and run. If Cooper ran a check for stolen vehicles, he might just find that red convertible Mustang listed already. What then?

Arrest Alessi? Great. Steve Bennet’s new girl in ankle chains. And it would be embarrassing when they could not come up with the car. More likely, Cooper would ask around, search the streets, and conclude it wasn’t in Charity. Then what? Would they all pretend Alessi had just arrived with the snow? And would it somehow whisk her away after Christmas?

Moll returned with Alessi’s root beer. She brought him a cup of coffee and a creamer.

“Thanks, Moll.”

“Pot roast is coming.” She tucked a string of red hair into her net.

He said, “It’s worth the wait,” and received the fake smile, silver tooth and all, that said flattery would get him nowhere. It was almost a game.

Alessi pulled her straw from the wrapper and dunked it into her drink. She glanced at him as she sipped. In some ways she seemed very young, in others older than her years. And this business about dying young …

“So what was it your grandparents objected to in your dad?”

“He was the pool boy.”

“There had to be more to it than that.” Steve peeled the lid from his creamer. He drank his coffee black in the morning but creamed it the rest of the day.

“He was not supposed to entice the daughters of the people he worked for. He could hardly help it, though. He was very goodlooking.” She rubbed away one of the frosty sections on the glass with her fingertip.

“What’s good-looking?”

“In his case? Tall, blond, blue eyes.”

“Malibu Ken. I suppose your mom was Barbie.” He half believed it, with Alessi herself giving credence to the Barbie-doll shape.

She leaned back against the booth cushion. “My mother was small, flat chested, and curly haired.”

“So you got your dad’s height and your mom’s curls.”

She nodded. “What about you?”

“I don’t remember my mom.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“She left us before I was three.” He sipped his coffee. How had this turned around on him? “So your mom fell in love with Ken and—”

“His name was Brian. He gave her a Bible and said he’d help her read it.”

“I bet.”

“He told her about Jesus when no one in her family had ever believed. They didn’t have to. They had everything they needed.”

“He offered her faith in place of the good life.” Steve leaned back and folded his hands.

“He offered her truth.”

“So she lied to her family and married him.” He half taunted, hoping to throw her off her game.