Kip swallowed, then nodded.
"All right, we'll consider it a temporary lapse of judgment. So Sly and Tony are best friends now, huh?" I sat down and tried to pull him onto my lap, but he pushed me away. My little boy was growing up. With a bittersweet pang, I let him go, and he slumped in the chair beside me.
"I bet you really feel awful."
"Nope, I don't care." He scuffed the floor with the toe of his shoe. "They said that I wasn't any fun anymore 'cause I said I couldn't go play in the old Winyard house." He lowered his voice and looked up at me, his expression grave and drawn.
The Winyard house! Heaven help us. The Winyard house was a death trap. "Kip, I'm very proud of you. Remember Tommy?"
He nodded. "Yeah, his leg's still busted." Several months before, a group of Kip's friends had gone over there to play, pulling off some rotten slats to crawl inside. Tommy Parker had fallen through the flooring to the basement.
"He was lucky he wasn't killed. I'm glad you have sense enough to say no, though I'm sorry about what happened with Sly and Tony." It occurred to me that he should be rewarded for finally using his common sense. 'Tell you what. Tomorrow we're going to Bellingham. How would you like it if I dropped you at the skateboard park mere? You can practice while Miranda and I shop."
A smile broke through his gloom. "That'd be great. You mean you'd let me practice by myself while you're in the store?"
Skies & Scopes, which carried most of the astronomy equipment that Miranda coveted, was right across the street from the skateboard park. "As long as you wear your safety gear at all times, right?" He nodded. "You know the drill: keep in plain sight at all times, no talking to strangers or going anywhere with them. In other words—"
"Use my head," he finished for me and threw his arm around me, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks Mom. I'm gonna go home and play Nintendo." With that, he slipped out the door.
I eyed the pile of invoices yet to be paid. Time to plow through paperwork again. I'd just started in on the first batch of bills when Lana tapped on the door and peeked in. "Emerald? Someone named Oliver is asking for you."
I brushed my bangs away from my eyes. So much for getting any business done today. I pushed myself out of the chair and followed her to the front counter. Oliver was poking around the shelves. He'd cleaned up pretty good, wearing a rust-colored polo shirt and khaki pants, though he still reminded me of a squirrel.
"I dropped by to let you know that Aunt Ida took off about an hour ago."
I motioned to Lana. 'Take your break now; I'll watch the front for a while." I turned back to Oliver. "I'm glad to hear that. So, have you been prowling around Chiqetaw today?"
He shook his head. "Not yet. I spent the morning going over the house with Aunt Ida so I'd know what to do while she's gone, then decided to take a walk. I noticed your daughter outside picking up some sort of metal scrap off your lawn."
Nobody could keep secrets in Chiqetaw, that was for sure. "Last night we had a freak accident; her telescope fell off the roof." I explained about Miranda's peculiar habit of sitting out on the roof at night to watch the stars.
He leaned against the wall, arms loosely crossed. "She sounds like a bright girl. That looked like an expensive telescope. A real loss. You buying her a new one?" he asked, giving me the once-over; the kind of look that makes a woman feel that she's been eyed a little too closely.
I pulled back. I'd been dating a writer named Andrew since December. We butted heads more often than a pair of mountain goats, and I had the feeling that neither one of us was sure just what direction, if any, the relationship was heading. We enjoyed each other's company, though, and the sex was good, but sometimes I got the feeling Andrew wanted to be the "smart one" in the relationship, which kind of bothered me. Then, a week ago, he'd dropped the bomb. He never wanted to get married, he said, and now I wasn't sure what I was going to do.
As if things weren't complicated enough, add in one Joe Files, captain of the medic rescue unit, who was bent on usurping Andrew's place in my life. Joe was easygoing, and we had a lot of fun together, laughing and joking around. We were probably better suited, but the fact that he was ten years younger than me made me hesitate.
At any rate, I wasn't about to encourage Ida's nephew. I decided to stick to lighthearted banter. "Expensive telescope? You'd better believe it. It would be so much easier if she preferred sports; or maybe something artsy." I pointed toward the tearoom. "Why don't you have some tea or cider? I'll see if I can come up with a list of Chiqetaw's highlights while you eat; then you can take them in at your leisure. It won't take long, believe me."
He poured himself a cup of hot cider. "You have no idea how good it feels to be here instead of locked up." He glanced at me warily, and I knew he was gauging my reaction to his mention of prison.
"I bet. How did you manage to stay sane there?" I wanted to get back to work but didn't have the heart to be rude. This was probably the first time in a long while that he'd talked to anybody except other inmates. The lack of culture had to be difficult for someone with an artist's soul.
"You learn to adjust. Prison requires quite a different mind-set, a shift in perception," he said, leaning against the counter as he sipped his apple cider. "Ida was my one saving grace while I was on the inside. Knowing she believed in me made all the difference."
I paused. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened with your mother? What you did doesn't seem so bad to me."
I wasn't prepared for Oliver's swift reaction to my comment. His eyes flashed, and his words came out as sharp enough to slice a brick like butter. "My mother was too busy with her damn friends to care whether I was alive or dead—" He stopped abruptly, inhaling deeply. I could hear the air whistle through his teeth. When he continued, his voice was level again. "My mother threw tantrums when she didn't get her way, and if anybody so much as threatened to damage the family name, she cut them out of her life. My arrest was an embarrassment she couldn't live down."
I detected an edge of bitterness in his tone. "I take it you're the black sheep of the family?"
He snorted. "Are you kidding? I quit the pretentious Kjeldsen Akademi, I majored in art history, I came back to the U.S. without a degree or a prestigious marriage. Those alone were criminal acts in my mother's eyes. When I got busted, it was the final straw."
As he spoke, I tried to catch a glimpse of his aura, but when I tuned in, a blast of static smacked me upside the head, stabbing me with a piercing ache between my eyes.
"Jeez!"
He scowled. "What's wrong?"