Meadow's Keep (The Gatekeepers Series) (12 page)

Chapter
Seven

Sandra poured Eryk a second cup of coffee while he waited for Jasmine. He hadn’t
spoken with Jasmine since their rather awkward parting last night, but he knew she would come. The coffee was fresh, strong, and black and he was letting the aroma of it fill his senses when he noticed the pert little waitress was still standing there, coffee pot in hand.

He lowered the half
-raised cup. “What can I do for you?” He smiled at the nervousness in her light blue eyes.

“I know this isn’t proper,
” she said and glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice just above a whisper, “you being a guest and all. But, I googled you last night. I thought you looked familiar—besides the fact that you look like Dorian.” She set the coffee pot on the table and pulled an old folded program from her apron. It was from a show of his three years earlier. It was faded and worn, but she handled it reverently. “Would you mind? I mean signing it.”

“Not at all.” He took the pen she held out and scribbled across the front
,
To my friend, Sandra. May all your days have magic! Eryk Vreeland
. He gently folded it over and handed it back to her. When she opened it, a small red rose lay in the middle.

“Oh, wow!” She beamed at him.

“Sandra,” Teresa called from the kitchen. “Would you run a tray upstairs for me?”

“Oops,” Sandra whispered
and turned to leave.

“It’s okay,” Eryk reassured her.
“It was my pleasure.”

“Oh, there’
s Miss Jasmine now. Hi, Miss Jasmine. Would you like your coffee now?”

“Sure, Sandra. I’d love some.
"

Jasmine
glided across the room. That’s all Eryk could think of as he watched her approach. Could she get more beautiful? She sure as hell seemed to. She was wearing chocolate brown pants with a burnt orange sweater skimming her hips. It cut in just enough to accentuate her curves. He took a drink of coffee and felt it scald his tongue. “Damn.” He put down the cup and grabbed the ice water.

“You okay?” Concern creased Jasmine’s brow as she sat across from him.

“You made me burn my tongue.” He let a piece of ice slip into his mouth and felt it melt.

He watched the mirth bubble in her eyes.

She tossed her head slightly, letting her wooden earrings swing. “I’m sorry—I guess.”

Sandra came to the table and poured Jasmine’s coffee. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

Jasmine and Eryk broke out laughing. “Never mind,” Jasmine said when she saw the young girl’s confusion. “Hey, do you think Bill will make me one of those special omelets?”

Sandra smiled. “You mean the
one with spinach and mushrooms with sautéed tomatoes and that secret cheese sauce?”

“The very one.” Jasmine nodded. “I’d kill for one of those.”

“Make that two,” Eryk interjected.

“Coming right up.
"

They watched her march into the kitchen, her blonde ponytail swinging.
It seemed as though the door had just swung closed when she was back through it with a basket of hot muffins and creamed butter. “Bill says these ought to tide you over while he works his magic.” She flushed as she looked at Eryk.

“There are all sorts of magic,” Eryk supplied. “I have a feeling Bill’s is one of a kind.”

Sandra beamed. “You got that right. He’s been teaching me some recipes. I hope to help in the kitchen soon.”

“That’s great,” Jasmine added. “I
can’t wait to try out one of your creations.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Jasmine nodded.

“Oh, I wanted to let you know—Bonnie and Cla
ire are doing a great job. Mom let me use my birthday money to buy an outfit from the Flair.” She leaned over in a conspiratorial whisper, “that’s what we call it now. It looks so hot—the outfit, I mean. Bob—that’s my boyfriend—is taking me to Atlanta for a show…a stage show.”

Just then, Teresa’s voice carried from the kitchen, “Sandra…”

“Gotta run.” She wiggled her fingers and ran toward the kitchen.

“I can’t believe I used to babysit her. Gosh, it makes
me feel old.”

Eryk tilted his head and studied her. “Yep, I see the crow’s feet forming as we speak. You are so old.
Cougar.”

Jasmine narrowed her eyes into slits. “Keep it up, bub.”

This time Teresa appeared with a tray. “Figured I better bring these or they’d be cold before you got a mouthful.” She set the steaming plates before them. “Sandra does love to talk.”

“She’s grown so much.” Jasmine commented.
“She’s turning into a beautiful young woman.”

“Yes, she is. And she’s almost as much a handful as you were.”
Teresa smiled. “Enjoy,” she added as she swung around. They could hear her laugh as she pushed the door open to the kitchen.

“Handful, huh?” Eryk asked and took a bite of the omelet. His eyes slid shut. “Sandra’s right, he’s a master magician.”

“Good, isn’t it,” Jasmine said and joined him in sampling the fluffy masterpiece. “I wish I could do this. I can’t. Lord knows I tried. I spent many a Saturday morning trying…and failing. Cooking isn’t one of my gifts.”

“I do okay. I don’t starve.
We’re on the road so much.” He picked up another muffin and broke it open, letting the steam rise. “I love lemon poppy seed."

He held a piece in front of Jasmine. Looking from unde
r her lashes, she took a nibble, then grabbed the rest of the muffin. “Me, too.” The words thrummed from deep inside. Eryk’s blood raced.

For half a second all he wanted to do was drag her off to his room, pull her into his arms and devour her as
she was doing to the rest of that muffin. He’d actually laid the linen napkin on the table and begun to rise when his phone gave a quick tone.

He sat back down and pulled it from his pocket. Without looking
, he said. “What can I do for you, Dad?”

Jasmine stopped eating at the tone he placed on the last word. She could hear a very clipped, deep voice respond.

“Let’s see. What excuse shall I use to NOT show up at her birthday party this year?” Eryk said.

Jasmine wiped her mouth and made no pretense of not pay
ing attention. She looked right at him, watching the color of his eyes deepen.

“Hey,
DAD
, why don’t we try something different this year. Tell her the truth—that I’m out of town visiting my
BROTHER
.”

There was silence from the other end of the phone.

“Oh, you might throw in something to really make her birthday,” he added through clinched teeth, “—that she finally got her wish, I’m not her son!”

The phone crackled. He pulled it away from his ear and stared at it. “Damn, fried another one.” He casually tossed it onto the table and drank some water. “Now, where were we?”

Having heard most of the exchange and feeling the charged air around them, Jasmine knew things couldn’t go back to what they had been before the phone call. She had to control a desire to reach up and feel if her hair was standing on end. She watched as he tried to smile across the table at her, but that twinkle that had existed only moments before was gone.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said softly and pushed back her chair.

“But you aren’t done,” he nodded to the half-eaten omelet on her plate.

“Bill always makes too
much for one person.” Then she noticed his empty plate. “Well, almost,” she added. “How about we go for a walk before we head over to The Shoppe?”

“I’d like that.”
He threw down a tip and followed Jasmine. As they passed through the lobby, he stopped. “I hope Teresa will charge the meal on my room.”

“She will or she won’t. Depends on her mood.”

They stepped out onto the porch and he took her hand. A faint tingle coursed between them—not entirely unpleasant. After a second, it was gone and their two warm hands intertwined naturally.

“Damn.” Jasmine stopped at the top of the steps.

He followed her gaze to the black Lincoln parked in front of The Shoppe of Spells and looked back at her. “Let me guess. That man you keep mentioning, Bass?”

“Bask,” she corrected. “What do you want to do?
”

He shrugged. “How bad could it be?”

Jasmine closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “Not something you want to say where Bask is concerned. You never know.”

Eryk took a step forward, stopped, turning back to her. “How about you? Is this something you want to do right now?”

She rolled her eyes. “Devil’s in the details. Might as well find out what they are.”

He laughed. “I like your style, Miss Monroe.”

Neither of them hurried as they made their way toward The Shoppe of Spells, not that they could have had they wanted to. As they crossed the street, a short, roundish, but very pretty, older woman stepped out of the small Victorian post office. As soon as she saw Jasmine, a smile appeared and her eyes crinkled.

“Miss Brenda,
” Jasmine called and threw her arms around her. Jasmine drew back and introduced Eryk to the postmistress.

Brenda didn’t seem taken aback in the least by his similarity to Dorian. “You’re the famous magician,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I saw you in Atlanta. It’s so strange…,” she tilted her head and looked hi
m over, “I never noticed the likeness before.”

He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, until Jasmine started laughing. “Right. They don’t look alike at all.”

Brenda twittered, trying to act bemused. “Well, now that you mention it….” She reached out and patted his arm. “Welcome to Ruthorford,” she said. “I need to run. Only have a half-hour to do my errands. Nice meeting you, Eryk.” She called back as she rounded the corner.

They paused in front of the bookstore, Chapters, to view a display of
books. Eryk noticed one by David Copperfield, graced the display. “I have a feeling that was done in your honor,” Jasmine said, pointing to the magician’s book.

“Did everyone know I was coming, except me?”

“No, but news travels fast in this town,” she said. “And secrets are held close,” she added quietly.

He turned and looked down the street.
The small town lay before him like a picture post card. The median boasted benches, trees and brick paths that wandered out from a large fountain. The sidewalks in front of the shops were wide, adorned with Victorian lampposts and trees. The town fairly sparkled in the fall sunlight, an invitation to walk and window shop, or visit. He watched as people did just that. They’d wave or cross the street to chat. Several teenage girls walked down the street, pointing and laughing at a boy with a skateboard. The girls stopped in front of Jasmine’s shop, then turned, wiggled tentative fingers at the boy, and went inside. The boy, paying more attention to the girls than where he was going, almost ran into a lamppost, barely swerving in time.

“I see you don’t have any regulations about skateboards.
"

“Why? They don’t hurt anyone and we’d rather they be here than somewhere where we can’t see them. It’s not like we have
much crime.” She laughed. “I put a chip in one of the benches myself, trying to show off.”

“What happened?”

“I had to paint the bench,” she chuckled, addressing the punishment and not the crime. “That was penalty enough.

“Oh, look.” She pointed across the street to the small art gallery. “Kateri Chance—I guess it’s still Chance,” she amended, “is having a showing. It was in the Crosstown Gazette.
I hope we’re here when it opens.”

“You know her?”

“I knew her when she was here a long time ago. Sad story. I’ll tell you some day.”

“I saw her work in Washington, D.C. She does incredible sculptures.
Is she from here?”

“Part of that long story I need to tell you.”

They had reached The Shoppe of Spells and, although the sign said closed, Jasmine turned the handle and opened the door. “Yoo hoo,” she called.

“In the kitchen,” Morgan called back. “Lock the door
, please.”

Eryk shut and locked the door before turning
around to follow Jasmine back into the large kitchen.

Morgan, Dorian, and a man Eryk didn’t know sat
around the large round table. As they approached, the older, very distinguished man—he reminded Eryk of an English barrister he knew—looked straight at him, his steel-gray eyes briefly reflecting the shock of Eryk’s similarity to Dorian before they became guarded once again. He’d taken off his suit jacket, which now hung from the back of the chair, and folded back his sleeves. He rose and stretched out a strong, sinewy arm. They clasped hands and Eryk caught sight of a circle tattoo on the inside of the man’s wrist, not dissimilar to the birthmark on Eryk’s hip.