Part 28 (1/2)
GIF.
They were sitting cuddling in the kitchen when Zee looked at the clock, gave a start, and stood up. The abruptness of her movement tipped Christie off her lap and onto the floor. Outraged, Christie stared up at her.
Zee chuckled and held out a hand. ”Stop dawdling and get your glad rags on.”
”What are you talking about?” A cross Christie allowed herself to be pulled up and set about dusting off her skirt.
”We're going over to Angie's.” Zee grabbed her hat from the hook, reshaped the crown, and crammed it on her head. ”Go on. Get changed. I'll get the buckboard ready.”
”But I've been looking forward to spending time alone with you.”
Zee paused in the doorway and looked back at her. ”It'll do you good,” she said seriously. ”Besides, some of the girls are bound to have letters they need help with. We've been away a spell.”
Christie threw up her hands and stomped up the stairs, grumbling.
In the bedroom, she changed into her only good visiting dress and eyed her reflection in the mirror. She was still trying to fix her hair so it didn't look like a bird's nest when Zee's shout wafted up the stairs.
”Come on.”
Christie gave her reflection a last despairing glance, then stomped downstairs and through the kitchen, muttering about inconsiderate good-for-nothings who sprung unexpected and unwanted invitations 184 on their better half. She grabbed her drawstring bag, bonnet, and shawl, then slammed the back door behind her and allowed herself to be helped up into the buckboard.
The corner of Zee's mouth quirked and Christie silently dared her to make just one, just one, smart-aleck comment. But Zee merely flicked the reins. The gelding pulled the buckboard forward, and they rattled out of the yard and down the track.
Christie glowered at the night sky. It was a full moon, and the stars were clear and bright. She tried to remember her constellations, sucking in a lungful of air and then exhaling, feeling her bad mood gradually evaporate.
A hand reached across and adjusted the shawl around her shoulders and she looked over at the silhouetted figure next to her.
”Sorry for being so bad tempered.”
The shoulders shrugged. ”I deserved it,” came Zee's voice.
”Shoulda told you earlier. Truth is, we were sitting so snug and cozy, I forgot all about Angie's invitation.”
She turned to face Christie. ”Told her this afternoon we'd go.
Thought, what with the Riker lad and everything, being with folks who appreciate you for who you are might cheer you up.” A pause.
”And I know you've been missing playing the piano.”
Christie reached over and patted Zee on the knee. ”You're right,”
she said. ”It will do me good. And I have missed playing the piano.”
She sighed.
”One day I'll buy you a piano,” said Zee. ”Not a player piano, a proper one.”
Christie snorted. ”With what?”
White teeth gleamed in the moonlight. ”I'll think of something.”
Chapter 6.
Four hours later, Christie lay in the back of the buckboard, hands laced over her stomach, staring hazily up at the stars, and conceded that she'd enjoyed her evening.
The inhabitants of Angie's Palace had welcomed them like long lost friendseven Red Mary's face had cracked into a smile (though it was probably more for Zee's benefit than Christie's).
They spent the evening in the brothel's back room with Angie, who was wearing her trademark Turkish trousers and smoking her pipe. In between clients, the wh.o.r.es popped in, staying to tell them the latest gossip and funny stories about Zee that made her look rueful and curse under her breath and on one occasionChristie had unfortunately been too far away to overhear the exchangespray a mouthful of whiskey all over her cards.
Zee had played poker and complained about the chattering women gathered around her, but Christie could see that, despite protestations to the contrary, she loved the attention. As for Christie, she wrote some letters for Lazy Alice, played the player piano to her heart's content, laughed until her cheeks ached, sang until she was hoa.r.s.e, and danced until her feet hurt. She also drank more champagne than she was used to.
”You all right back there?” came Zee's voice.
”Jush fine,” said Christie. For some reason her tongue wouldn't work properly. ”T'morrow,” she said thickly, ”I am going to see Miss Bartlett.”
”The school teacher?”
”The very shame.” Christie licked her lips and tried again. ”Same . . . Aha!” She crowed in triumph.
”Why?”
186.
”Eh?”
”Why are you going to see Miss Bartlett?”
”'Cause that'sh what Angie shuggested.”
A long suffering sigh drifted back to her on the cool night air.
”And why did Angie suggest that?”
”'Cause if anyone can shtop that little brute from playing hooky and teach him some mannersh, it'sh hish teacher.” Why did so many words have the letter S in them?
”Ah. Good idea.”
”My thoughtsh exackly.”
”Doubt if she'll be able to help though.”
The stars were spinning in a clockwise direction. Fascinating. ”Of coursh she will. Anyway . . . better'n doing nothing.”