Glossed and Found Read online

  Auntie wiped her hands on the dish towel. She was dressed in her usual mu’umu’u; today it was fuchsia, the color of her straw hat with the beloved and very-late Squeaky, who’d met his death via electrical cord. The bird was affixed to the hat with a glue that held stronger than steel. She shrugged into the long wool cape that I’d bought her for her birthday and plunked the hat on her head.

  “Ready to go?”

  I nodded. “Meet you there. And Auntie, please call the garage and have them stifle that beast of yours before Kyle finally gives in and slaps you with a ticket. He’s not going to look the other way forever, you know.” Baby, Auntie’s convertible, was louder than a jet engine and desperately needed muffling.

  Auntie shrugged. “One of these days, my dear. One of these days.”

  Our shop, Venus Envy, was on Island Drive, the main drag of Gull Harbor, Washington, the town that sprawled across a good share of Port Samanish Island in Puget Sound. We attracted the renegade techies and artists, the summer millionaires, and those fleeing the frenetic pace of Seattle’s java jive mentality. Oh, that’s not to say that caffeine didn’t still rule the community and that we weren’t still in the loop, but the islanders had managed to pull in the best of both worlds. Seattle was only a half hour away by ferry, and yet the island was removed, a world away from the grime and the haze and the concrete. We did get the rain—in fact, more than the city proper by a measurable amount—but we were tweeners—between urban and rural.

  I pulled into my parking spot and dashed across the street, shielding myself from the rain with my handbag. The clouds were thick and looming ominous, the streets wet from the night’s downpour. Lucky for me, morning rush hour was over, and the matrons of the town hadn’t come out to shop yet, so parking was easy and the slick pavement clear.

  Venus Envy was nestled between the Baklava or Bust Bakery on one side—owned by my best friend Barbara Konstantinos and her husband Dorian—and Starbucks on the other. Barb lived for Starbucks, while I thrived on black tea and lemon. On the corner was our favorite hang-out, the BookWich, a café-slash-bookstore where you could read and eat. Downtown Gull Harbor had all the charm of an old-fashioned town, with all the boutiques of a thriving metropolis. It was the perfect blend of tradition and cutting edge.

  I dashed through the door. Tawny was already at work, and I saw that Seth had come in early, too. I waved at them as I headed back to the office. A few months back we’d been facing ruin, thanks to a ruthless competitor. After I’d managed to expose her dirty game, our customer base rebounded higher than ever, including a few clients who sheepishly returned after deserting us for Bebe Wilcox and her low-cost, low-quality wares.

  But I had to admit, thanks to the crap that Bebe had pulled, we were smarter. We now kept all valuables locked in the office, our computer was secure, our files were backed up, and I’d created copies of my oil recipe journal, both on the computer and hard copy. Difficult lessons all, but vital.

  I checked for messages as I slid out of my leather jacket and hung it up behind the door. The tranquil mauve and sea-green color scheme always calmed me down, even when I was in a rush, and now I exhaled slowly as I listened to the string of callbacks waiting for us. Most were for Auntie, one was for Tawny, and one was a client who had to cancel her fragrance consultation.

  As I turned off the machine, I realized that my butt still hurt. Hopefully, Cynthia would be able to take care of it, but I put in a call to Will Cohalis and scheduled an adjustment for four fifteen, just to make sure. Finished with the morning administration, I left my purse in the bottom drawer of Auntie’s desk and headed back to my station.

  My first two appointments were business as usual, but when I glanced at the schedule, the third name stood out in bold screaming letters to me. I glared at the writing and hurried over to Tawny.

  “What the hell is this?” I shoved the book under her nose. “You know better than to schedule an appointment with the Albatross!”

  Don’t get me wrong. I liked Tawny, she was a good worker, but she had a few specific orders that were sacrosanct. And refusing service to my ex-boyfriend Elliot was at the top of the commandments. I’d been compiling a long list of his stunts in the hopes of getting a restraining order, but he always stopped right before crossing the line. A few times I’d managed to chase him off by threatening to beat him to a pulp if he didn’t get the hell out of Dodge. He knew I could do it, too, and he knew that I would, if pushed.

  Tawny paled. “Oh Persia, I’m sorry! Let me see that.” She took the book from me and squinted. “That’s not my handwriting. I’ll bet Seth took down the appointment when I was on break, and I just never noticed.”

  “Oh Lord, I’m sorry, Tawny.” I let out a long sigh. Had I warned Seth about Elliot? Lisa knew, but when I tried to remember if I’d told Seth, I came up with a blank. “Forgive me? The sight of his name was just a shock.”

  Tawny winked. “I’d have done the same thing. Maybe you’d better let Seth know, though, so it doesn’t happen again.” She glanced at the clock. “Do you think I have time to call and cancel his appointment before—”

  The shop chimes sounded, and I grimaced. Even though I hadn’t turned around, I knew who it was. I knew as sure as I could smell the pathetic knockoff version of Calvin Klein’s Obsession. I whirled around, jaw set. Elliot stood there, a smile of triumph on his face.

  What had I ever seen in this man? There must have been something that attracted me at one time, but over the past eighteen months, I’d totally forgotten what it was. I’d dated Elliot Parker, former accountant-turned-embezzler, for several years before moving in with him, never having a clue as to his criminal alter ego. Five years later, the Feds caught up with him.

  I cut my losses and ran, leaving Seattle to return home to Auntie’s house. Elliot managed to finagle a deal and got off on a plea bargain, and he followed me to Gull Harbor, where he rented a dive, took odd jobs to keep himself alive, and pestered me at every turn.

  “What the fuck do you want, Elliot? I told you to never darken the doors of this shop, and if Auntie finds out you were in here, she’ll hunt you down like the dog you are.”

  Hands on my hips, I glared. In my heels, I was well over six feet and towered over him.

  He stared up at me, his eyes glittering with thoughts that were hard to read, probably a good thing for both our sakes. “I’m a paying customer—”

  I looked around. By now most of our customers knew about my volatile connection with the jerk, but I still didn’t like causing scenes in the shop if I could avoid it. However, there were only three customers in the shop, and they all gave me knowing smiles as I glanced at them.

  “What you are is an asshole! Now get out before I help you find the door.” I took a step forward and glared.

  He swallowed, the nervous tic in his face starting up. He hadn’t had that until he moved to Gull Harbor and took up drinking as a sport. “Persia, when are you going to admit you still want me—”

  “That’s it!” I took hold of his elbow and within seconds had twisted him around as I propelled him to the door. He tried to break free, but I held fast until we reached the rainy sidewalk. As I let go, I whispered, “You come back, and I’ll have to get rough. Got it through that alcohol-sodden skull of yours?”

  He coughed, backing away as I cracked my knuckles, and then without a word, turned and stumbled off down the street. Just as I thought, he was already on his way to being soused. As I dusted my hands on my skirt and headed back into the shop, I wondered what else was going to go wrong today.

  By lunchtime, I was ready for a bowl of chicken soup and a sandwich. I’d created five custom blends for my regular clients, sorted out an inventory mistake that left Tawny bewildered and almost in tears, and tried to console an angry Lisa who had gotten yet another letter from the creditors who were hounding her and her sister.

  “We’ll talk about it at the pool tonight. Maybe there’s something I can think of to help,” I said, staring at the dema
nd for payment.

  Lisa and Amy were trying to pull together the remains of their father’s estate after he’d died of a long and arduous ordeal with cancer. They were up to their necks in fending off the sharks who wanted their money from an estate that had fallen far short of everyone’s expectations.

  She sighed. “It’s just been so hard, Persia. We’re trying to save the family house, but I’m not sure if we have time to save it.” An odd look crossed her face, and she shrugged. “I do have one idea, but I’m not sure if it’s going to work. I’ll know more soon, though.” I handed her a tissue, and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Luckily, Lisa wore waterproof mascara, or she’d be a runny mess by now.

  I patted her on the arm. “Don’t cry. We’ll figure out something.” A glance at the clock told me I was running late. “I’m meeting Barb for lunch now, but we’ll talk this afternoon at the pool. I promise.” As Lisa nodded, I grabbed my wallet from Auntie’s office and waved as I headed out the door.

  Barb was waiting by the door of the bakery, and as she swung out to meet me in stride, I could smell the delicious scents of fresh bread and pastries. She looked wiped.

  “Busy?” I asked.

  “The week before Thanksgiving?” She snorted. “Persia, we’re going down for the third time. Not only are people ordering breads and rolls and pies for their dinners, but we’re catering the pastries for the Gull Harbor Thanksgiving Gala tomorrow night.”

  The Gala was an annual dance sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce and various Gull Harbor small businesses. All proceeds went to the Helping Hands Center and the Port Samanish Island Food Bank. Tickets were one hundred dollars per person, and Auntie and I had decided to spring for Trevor, Tawny, Seth, and Lisa. They’d all be attending, dates included. It was the one posh affair of the year that was open to the public, and everybody who was anybody would be there.

  “So not only are we run ragged,” she said, playing with her straw, “but guess who decided to show up just to make my life miserable?”

  “At least it wasn’t Elliot. He dropped into Venus Envy this morning.” I shook my head, wondering just who’d gotten on Barb’s bad side. We’d been so busy lately we hadn’t had a chance to really sit and dish for several weeks. “Who’s the thorn in your side? Maybe we can take him—or her—and Elliot at the same time. Tie them to cement blocks, and toss them in the ocean or something.”

  “Don’t I wish, but that’s not going to happen. Mama Konstantinos showed up a few days ago for a visit.” The look on her face said it all. Barbara and her mother-in-law were in a constant struggle over who had the most claim on Dorian. The battle was usually on hold, since Mama Konstantinos lived in Greece, but since she’d actually made a trip to the States, it was guaranteed that the war would rage with a renewed fury.

  “You pick a place to stash the body yet?” I grinned at Barb, and she let go of the pinched look that was threatening to add a few wrinkles to the faint laugh lines that crept around her eyes. A decade older than me, at forty-two she still looked closer to thirty.

  “I wish,” she muttered as we swung into the BookWich and waited at the hostess’s stand. Within minutes, Tilda was there to lead us back to a booth that afforded a little more privacy.

  “Haven’t seen you girls in a while,” the older waitress said. Tilda was a good soul, and she treated us like we were her nieces. I always overtipped. Considering her age and how strenuous the job was, she deserved it.

  “Busy, Tilda, so damned busy,” Barb said, sliding into the booth with one of those sighs that says it all. She leaned her head back against the seat, and I could see the strain tightening her neck and shoulders.

  I slipped into the opposite seat and took a long drink of water. Tilda handed us menus and asked, “The usual drinks, girls?” We nodded, and she took off for the kitchen.

  “Actually, what I want is a good stiff screwdriver right now. More vodka than OJ.” Barb inhaled deeply, then slumped. “I tell you, Persia, that woman is the root of all evil. I hate her—I really hate her. And Dorian adores her.”

  “Doesn’t he see how she treats you?” I asked, playing with my glass. Just one more reason I never planned to walk down the aisle. As much as I liked Killian, I’d seen too many bad marriages. I’d rather have commitment than a license any day. In my book, the two didn’t always go together.

  “You know Dorian, he never wants to make waves. And he never thinks she acts as badly as she really does. I can’t tell him what she says to me when he’s not around—he wouldn’t believe it. I just hope that having her on my turf makes a difference. She hasn’t been to the U.S. in six years, you know.” Barb shook her head in disgust. “So, what’s up with you? How’s Killian?”

  “Well, other than almost breaking my butt this morning, I’m fine.” I gave her a slow smile. “Killian’s good, in more ways than one.” And that was no lie. Killian and I had been together since August, and the sex was so good that I almost thanked Bebe Wilcox for the trouble she’d caused us. Her machinations afforded me the opportunity to get to know Killian Reed, former owner of Donna Prima, a cosmetics company that Wilcox had managed to put out of business. Killian and I meshed in so many ways it was spooky; and like me, he wasn’t looking to formalize our relationship any time soon. We’d agreed to remain exclusive—the energy we raised between us was too intense for anything else—but that was enough for now.

  “The Gala should be fun, at least,” Barb mumbled, her mouth full of a breadstick. She perked up a little. Barbara loved parties and playing socialite, and she did it well, without snobbishness but with a pizzazz few could mimic.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea of what I want to wear. Something sparkly. The gloom’s really getting to me this autumn. I miss the sun.” I was a sun bunny at heart. I loved being outdoors, hiking, swimming, taking long walks on the beach. I still hiked and camped during the autumn and winter, but it was a hell of a lot harder when rain ruled the skies and fog rolled in to cloud the islands of Puget Sound.

  Barb broke into a grin. “I know exactly where we’re going to shop tonight. A new store moved into the plaza last month. Sarina’s. Gorgeous dresses, designer wear. A real upscale boutique.”

  I nodded as Tilda came to take our orders. An evening of shopping with my best friend may just be what the doctor ordered. Now, if I could figure out a way to boost Lisa’s mood, everything would be just peachy.

  Chapter Two

  Lisa was waiting for me when I arrived at the aquatic center. My chiropractor and masseuse had both taken great pains to keep me from having great pains, and they both agreed that a nice stint in a warm pool afterward would be just the ticket. As I sat on the bench in the locker room and changed into my suit, Lisa huddled in her cover-up. She had a great body, but her fear of the water made putting on a bathing suit torturous.

  I slid out of my skirt, sweater, and underwear, hanging them in the locker. Auntie and I rented our lockers by the year since we were both here so often. As Lisa watched, a faint smile on her face, I stepped into the sleek one-piece twist bandeau suit that had become my current favorite. With diamond cutouts on the sides and sturdy underwire support, the crimson wonder—as I’d dubbed it—both showed off my figure and supported me for serious swimming.

  “You ready?” I asked her, braiding my hair and pinning it up to keep it out of the way.

  Lisa blanched and stared nervously at the door. “No, I’d rather be anywhere but here, but I guess that’s part of the reason I am here, isn’t it? I wish I wasn’t so afraid, but I can’t seem to forget.” She twisted the belt of her terry cover-up, nervously wringing it with her hands. “The waves were so huge, and I was so little. And then I couldn’t breathe, and everything was a roar of water. Then my daddy caught me up, and the look on his face terrified me. I knew then that he’d almost lost me. That he almost didn’t save me.”

  I’d heard the story over and over, but the past few times I noticed it had gotten shorter, as if she no longer needed to go over each and e
very detail quite so compulsively. I let her ramble on but gently steered her toward the shower. Taking a deep breath, she slid out of the cover-up, and we rinsed off, then headed for the pool.

  As we entered the main room, the scent of chlorine overwhelmed me and almost sent me reeling. I hated the stuff. It made me queasy, and every public pool in the area seemed to overuse it. But if I wanted to swim indoors, there was nothing I could do until I could convince Auntie to build an add-on with our own swimming pool, so I bit the bullet and made sure to shower thoroughly afterward.

  There were actually three pools: one for the little waders, one for lap swimming and general splashing around, and a therapy pool. Since Lisa was so afraid, we always went to the therapy pool, because at its deepest the water was barely four feet. Deep enough to get her acclimated but not so deep that she’d be in over her head. But getting her to the four-foot end was going to take some doing; she was still afraid, even when the water only came to her knees.

  I’d managed to steer her down the ramp, which was used by a number of physical therapy patients, and into the water three times by holding tightly to her hand and slowly easing her in. Pressuring Lisa would backfire; I knew that from the start. With each session, I encouraged her down the ramp step-by-step.

  Now, I spoke softly to Lisa as we edged our way into the pool until the water covered our feet. I glanced at her. She was breathing heavily, and her shoulders were hunched, but her eyes were determined.

  “You’re doing great. Just a little farther. We’re almost there, and then we can sit and chat for a bit.” The therapy pool had a built-in bench in the shallow end where patients could sit and soak in the warm water. That’s what we’d done last time, when I finally managed to coax her off the ramp. The first two times, we’d stopped at the bottom, where she started to panic. Today, however, I had hope that we’d make it over to sit down.