Marcus dutifully relayed the message.
“Guys,” Simon warned, turning down the sound and pointing to the man on the screen, who was now talking to his assistant. “It’s showtime,” he said again. But neither Nick nor Hale seemed to notice or care as they stared at each other across the table.
In the distance, Angus was chasing Hamish across the dewy grounds toward the rising, spiraling smoke, and Kat found herself whispering, “Two boys running . . .”
Hale looked up. Only he seemed to have heard her, and with that, he slid the phone across the table to Nick. “Make the call.”
They saw Wainwright pick up the phone. They heard Nick say, “Yes, Mr. Wainwright, Edward Wallace from Binder and Sloan here calling to assure you personally that this nasty business with our Windsor Elite furnace model is not as bad as you might have heard. Why, the fire marshal has assured us that—”
On screen, they saw Wainwright speak, but only Nick could hear him.
“Oh dear,” Nick said with a wink in Kat’s direction. “That is disturbing. Well, not to fear, Mr. Wainwright. I’ll tell you what I told Her Majesty’s personal valet this morning: We at Binder and Sloan have been entrusted with the safety and comfort of some of the United Kingdom’s most beloved buildings, and we will not rest until every faulty furnace has been repaired.”
Wainwright stood to examine the small vents in the floor of his office as if he expected flames to come shooting out at any minute.
“Yes, sir,” Nick said. “Now, I see that we can have a team come out to do these repairs two weeks from next Tuesday— Not quick enough? Of course, sir. It is a high priority, yes sir. Of course. Yes. First thing Monday it is.”
Walkie-talkie static filled the air again, and Marcus said, “Excuse me, miss, but the young gentlemen say that you cannot get smoke without the boom, and they would like your advice on how to proceed.”
But Kat’s mind was still lost in a dream, clouded with smoke and fire.
“Excuse me,” Marcus whispered. “Miss, the gentlemen—”
“Are morons,” Gabrielle said, taking the walkie-talkie from his hand. Kat watched her cousin storm off with an exasperated sigh of, “I guess I have to do everything myself.”
Kat, Hale, and Nick watched her go. Another roar bellowed in the distance as Kat found Hale’s gaze and whispered, “Bigger.”
Chapter 28
Sometimes Katarina Bishop couldn’t help but wonder if she had been the victim of some colossal, genetic mistake. After all, she almost always preferred black to pink, flats to heels, and as she stood perfectly still atop one of the silk upholstered chairs in Hale’s great-great-grandmother’s dressing room, all she could think was maybe she wasn’t even female— at least when compared to Gabrielle.
She glanced down at her cousin, who sat on her knees beside the chair, a pincushion in one hand and a cell phone in the other.
“Of course I want to come to your engagement party,” Gabrielle said with a sigh into the phone. “Those are always fun, but you know how Switzerland is this time of year.” She darted her eyes toward her cousin. “No, Mother, I haven’t seen Kat in ages—you know we’re not exactly close.”
Gabrielle winked.
“It’s too short,” Kat whispered at the exact moment Gabrielle chose to mouth, “I think it’s too long.”
“Sure, I think you should call Uncle Eddie,” Gabrielle said into the phone, but stared up, straight into her cousin’s eyes. “Whoever ratted out Kat’s dad should totally pay.”
Kat cut her a look. Gabrielle gestured and mouthed the word “Turn.”
Kat did as she was told. She could feel her hemline rising as her cousin worked, but she didn’t protest. After all, Kat was a natural grease man, wheel man, and inside man. Gabrielle was a natural girl. So Kat stayed still and quiet on her chair, staring through the bay windows, looking out onto the garden and the statue, trying to remember which parts of the night before had been a dream.
“So . . .” Gabrielle said slowly. The cell phone was gone. The skirt was nearly finished. And there was no disguising the thrill in her voice as she said, “Where’d you and Hale disappear to last night?”
“Nowhere,” Kat said.
“Turn,” Gabrielle instructed. Kat moved a half step, but her gaze never left the garden. “Remind me . . . didn’t you used to be a better liar?”
Kat sighed. “Probably.”
Even with a straight pin between her teeth, Gabrielle managed to nod and say, “Thought so.” She gripped the skirt’s hem, then cried, “Ouch!”
Kat glanced down in time to see Gabrielle pulling a stray pin from her finger.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Kat said. “Marcus is working on the costumes.”