Part 5 (1/2)
Be nice. She'll be her sister all her life. ”We're not doing that, Lucy. We're not even living together. So before you start spending three months of my salary, forget it.”
”I think three months is just a guideline,” she mused. ”You don't have to spend that much. As long as it's nice, and she likes it...”
”No.”
”What you might want to do is get a loaner to put in the box. After Christmas, she can go pick out the one she really wants.”
”No. Are we done here?”
”You love her. I can tell,” Lucy said, untroubled by my tone. ”You were hoping it was her on the phone just now. So if you love her...”
”Don't you start with that.”
”Gotta run. The kids say hi. Remember: Three months is a guideline.” Click.
I slammed the phone down and put my head in my hands. When the phone rang again 30 seconds later, I hit the speakerphone b.u.t.ton without looking up. ”Kerry.”
”Is that any way to answer the phone at work?” my mother scolded.
Defeated, I slumped all the way over on the desktop, hitting it with a thud.
”h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo? What was that noise? Devlin?”
”You weren't supposed to get through,” I mumbled. ”They were supposed to cut you off at the switchboard.”
”They did. I disguised my voice this time.”
There was nothing I could say to that to make myself feel better. Silently, I waited for her to get on with it. Before she did, though, the office door swung open, and Ca.s.sie walked in.
Ahhh. That was better. I gave her what must have been a very goofy smile.
”You're lying on your desk,” she observed. ”Is there anything I should know?”
The speakerphone squawked a little. ”Devlin? Who is that?”
I closed my eyes. ”It's Ca.s.sie. She just came in. What can I do for you this time, Mom?”
”Call me later,” she said quickly.
Click.
The dial tone hummed for a while. Finally, I felt Ca.s.sie bend over me to hang up the phone.
”I was worried about you,” I told her, eyes still closed. ”It's snowing. Did you see any bears?”
”Bears?”
”Never mind.”
”You know, we could go to the beach for Christmas,” Ca.s.sie remarked, settling on my chair arm. ”It's not like we have to spend every holiday with our families. We're grownups, after all.” She reached over and started ma.s.saging the back of my neck. ”What do you think?”
”You're not weaseling out of this. I had to do it. Now it's your turn.”
”I'll give you one of these every night for a month,” she bargained.
”Too late, Ca.s.s.”
She said a bad word not quite under her breath but kept rubbing. That was much, much better. When the phone rang again, I knocked it all the way off the desk.
”It's almost 5,” she said. ”Let's cut out early. Want to pick up Greek? I've still got some ouzo.”
”Perfect.”
”You have to get up first,” she added.
Reluctantly, I did. On the way to the coat rack, I heard tires squealing in the parking lot and idly looked out the window.
Ca.s.sie heard, too, and came over to see. ”What in h.e.l.l...?”
”Right,” I said glumly, pointing.
Vanessa was doing doughnuts in the parking lot in her red BMW, with the top down, spraying snow everywhere. She looked like she was having the time of her life. I didn't know what she was up to, but then, I really didn't want to know.
”We'll sneak out the back,” Ca.s.sie declared. ”And we'll take my car.”
(c) 2000, K. Simpson To Part 5 The Devil's Workshop (c) 2000, M.C. Sak Disclaimers, Credits, & E-Mail: See Part 1.
CHAPTER 5.
Ca.s.sie's clock radio woke us, completely against our will. She groaned and tried to pull all the covers and both pillows over her head. I could relate; I just couldn't remember what freight train had hit us. G.o.d, there were a lot of pieces missing from last night.
”'S all right,” I told her. ”Got it.”
She gave up her futile effort with the covers and flopped back down. Unable to open my eyes all the way, I felt for the radio, found the snooze b.u.t.ton, and smacked it with genuine hatred. Then we went back to sleep.
For eight minutes.
”Give you a thousand dollars to turn it off,” she mumbled.
No charge. If she felt anything like I felt, neither of us had any business waking up anyway. But we had meetings. So I shut off the alarm and sc.r.a.ped myself out of bed. Ca.s.sie probably would be all right by herself for a while, and if not...well, it had been her idea and her ouzo last night.
Pulling my robe off the footboard, I threw it on and staggered to the bath. Every step made my skull hurt. Why? We hadn't had that much ouzo. Maybe it had been the food. We might've gotten hold of bad grape leaves or toxic lamb or something.
Yeah, that was probably it.