Shakespeares Champion Page 0,51

as I looked around that the Winthrops must be incredibly rich, on paper at least. I'd seen the evidence in the size of the houses the family lived in, their clothes and jewelry and toys: But seeing the vastness of the store, thinking of the huge lumber and home supply store right next to this place, remembering all the fences I'd seen across areas containing working oil wells marked Winthrop oil, no entrance, the amount of money the family must have in the bank just winded me.

Well, I didn't want it. All I wanted was gloves.

I would have to safari into the camouflage jungle to reach the little area I wanted, a far hike to the rear if I remembered the store layout correctly. Darcy Orchard seemed to feel I wanted his company, and when he found out what I needed he led me down the narrow middle aisle and veered to the left. I lifted a hand to Jim Box, who was explaining to a teenager why he needed a gun case that would float. The young woman who worked in boating accessories came up and gave me a half-hug and asked about my leg, and one of the men who'd worked in the store for over twenty years - his sweatshirt said so - patted me on the back in the friendliest way, though I hadn't a clue who he was. These were nice people, and their kindness and their courtesy in not asking questions reminded me of why I'd liked Shakespeare in the first place.

"You can meet the new guy, if you haven't already. He's 'bout as mean as you," Darcy said in that jocular tone some men reserve for insults they don't want you to take them up on. I suddenly remembered who the new man was, suddenly and for the first time realized... Just as a jolt of alarm went through me, I made myself pay attention to Darcy.

Darcy's voice had been offhand, but something in his tone had made the hair on my neck stand up. "You sure turn up in funny places," he said now. "You in the Winthrop house when it's not your day to work, you in the church when everyone going to that meeting is black."

"Did your wife tell you everything she was going to do, Darcy?"

I recalled he been married for six years or so, though he'd been divorced as long as I'd known him.

"My wife had more plans than the Pentagon," Darcy said grimly, but he seemed to relax.

We rounded a corner consisting of men's jumpsuits (very popular in Shakespeare) which led us into the small open area devoted to workout equipment and workout clothes.

Reading the instructions for an adominal exerciser gadget, with a skeptical sideways pull to his lips, was the detective, Black Ponytail. I'd just figured out who I was going to see, but he didn't have any warning. I admired the calm with which he took me in. His hands tightened on the brochure, but that was the only outward sign that we weren't seeing each other for the first time.

"Lily, this is Jared Fletcher," Darcy said. "He's got those abs of steel, don't you, Jared?"

His name wasn't Jared. I knew him now. He'd had the same skeptical look in the newspaper photos. I could feel my breath shorten.

"Jared, this is Lily, the toughest woman in Shakespeare." Darcy completed the introduction with relish. "You two ought to hit it off great."

Even Darcy seemed to realize there was something tense in the ensuing silence.

"You two already know each other?" he asked, his beige head turning from me to "Jared" and back again.

"I've seen Lily at the gym," the new man said easily. "But we've never actually met."

"Oh, sure." Darcy's face cleared. "I'll leave you two to it, then. Jared, Miss Lily here needs herself some new gloves. Might oughta sell her some body armor, too, since she seems to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"What size?" the dark man asked as Darcy reluctantly went back to his work area.

I held out my hand. "What do you think?" I asked, meeting his eyes.

He took my hand with his right and stepped closer to me. This area of the store seemed isolated and silent, suddenly, though I knew there were people just through the dense racks of clothes. His other hand reached up to touch the bruise on my forehead. Among my other injuries, the place he'd bopped me had paled into insignificance.

"Sorry,"