Part 19 (2/2)
Whatever the legend, old charm strings are extremely rare these days. That doesn't mean the hobby couldn't be renewed. Save up old b.u.t.tons, and string them with the princes and princesses in your life! Who knows, someday, those charm strings, too, might be precious, old and valuable.
For more information about vintage and antique b.u.t.tons and b.u.t.ton collecting, go to: mune with the Other Side, you know.” Like it would help the information sink into this nonbeliever's skull, Chandra looked at me hard.
If I was still back in New York City, I would have given her a one-finger salute and been done with it. But we were, in fact, on an island twelve miles from the southern sh.o.r.e of Lake Erie, and as I'd come to learn in the six weeks I'd lived on South Ba.s.s, residents here were a different breed. They moved slower than folks back in the Big Apple. They were friendlier. Considerate. More civilized.
Well, except for Jerry.
And, obviously, his owner.
”This is ridiculous!” I threw my hands in the air. Not as dramatic a gesture as I would have liked, but hey, like I said, people here were considerate, and my goal in coming to the island in the first place was to blend in. ”You're wasting my time, Chandra. And the court's time, too. All you need to do is-”
”All Chandra needs to do?”
Honestly, I was so fixated on Jerry's loony owner, I'd forgotten Kate Wilder was even in the room. She stood on my left, tapping one sensible pump against the black-and-white linoleum. ”It's not like I have time for this, Alvin, and you know it,” she grumbled, her arms crossed over the jacket of a neat navy suit that looked particularly puritanical against flaming orange hair that was as long as my coal black tresses, but not nearly as curly. ”We could settle this whole thing quickly, if you'd tell her...” Kate was a pet.i.te, pretty woman who looked to be about thirty-five, the same age as me. Her emerald green eyes snapped to mine. ”Tell Ms. Cartwright here to cut down on the traffic at that B and B of hers and there won't be anything left for us to discuss.”
”Oh, we'll still have plenty to talk about,” I shot back. ”Especially if your constant nagging about traffic means my renovations don't get done by the time I'm scheduled to open. Come on, it's not like it's any big deal. It's just a few trucks coming down the street now and then.”
”A few?” Kate ticked the list off on her fingers (which is actually a pretty pithy way of putting it since while she was at it, she was ticking me off, too). ”There was the truck that brought the new windows, and one that took care of the heating and air conditioning, and one from the painters and one from-”
”I thought you said you were busy and had better things to do?” Ah yes, me at my sarcastic best! Not one to be intimidated (see the above comment about New York), I, too, crossed my arms over my black turtleneck and adjusted the dark-rimmed gla.s.ses on the bridge of my nose, the better to give Kate the kind of glare anybody with that much time on her hands-not to mention nerve-deserved. ”Apparently, you don't have anything better to do than spend your time looking across the street at my place. Once the renovations are complete-”
”At least those trucks won't be spewing fossil-fuel exhaust fumes near my herb garden.” Chandra tugged at her left earlobe and the three golden hoops in it. ”Once she gets rid of those-”
”And she cuts down on the traffic jams-”
”And she takes care of that d.a.m.ned cat-”
”All right! That's it. Quiet down!” In the weeks I'd been appearing before Alvin in the bas.e.m.e.nt courtroom, I had never seen him so red in the face. He fished a white cotton handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead. ”This has gotten...” There was a plastic bottle of water on his desk and he opened it and took a gulp. ”This situation has gotten out of control. You're out of control.”
I would have been willing to second this last comment if he'd kept his gaze on Chandra. When it moved to Kate...well, that was understandable, too. But when it slid my way and stayed there, I couldn't help myself. My chin came up and my shoulders went back.
Alvin sc.r.a.ped a hand through what was left of his mousy-colored hair and pointed a finger at Kate. ”You're mad at...” He arced his finger in my direction. ”Her because of the traffic. And you're...” His slightly trembling finger remained aimed at me. ”Mad at her...” The accusatory gesture moved to Chandra. ”Because her cat-”
”Pees on my flowers. All the time. What's going to happen in the summer when I have guests and they want to sit out on the front porch and-”
”I get the picture.” A muscle jumped at the base of Alvin's jaw, but he kept his gaze on Chandra. ”And you, Chandra, you're mad at Kate. Do I have that right? Because...” He flipped open a manila file on his desk and consulted the topmost piece of paper in it. ”Because Kate plays opera too loud on Sunday mornings.”
Chandra nodded, and her bleached blond, blunt-cut hair bobbed to the beat. ”I do my meditating in the morning.” She said this in a way that made it sound like public knowledge. For all I knew, it was. From what I'd heard, Chandra Morrisey had lived in Put-in-Bay (the little town that was the center of life on South Ba.s.s) nearly all of her nearly fifty years. ”She's messing with the vibrations in the neighborhood and that affects my aura.”
”Oh, for pity sake!” Kate's screech fell flat against the pocked tiles of the drop ceiling. ”She hates opera? Well, I hate that creepy sitar music that's always coming from her place. And I don't have time for this. Any of it. I need to get to the winery.”
”Oh, the Wilder Winery!” If we hadn't been enmeshed in our own little version of a smackdown, I might have laughed at Chandra's attempt at a la-di-da accent. ”Play your screechy opera at the winery, then, why don't you,” she suggested to Kate. ”And leave the rest of us in peace.”
”Which actually might be possible,” Kate snapped back, ”if it wasn't for you, Chandra, and those stupid full moon bonfires you're always building.” She fanned her face with one perfectly manicured hand. ”The smoke alone is bound to kill somebody one of these days. Add your singing to it-”
”It isn't singing.” Chandra was so sure of this, she stomped one Ugg-shod foot. ”It's chanting.”
”It's annoying,” Kate countered.
”And it's getting us nowhere.” Me, the voice of reason. ”It all comes down to the stupid cat. If you'd just make Jerry Garcia-”
”In the animal kingdom, cats are among the highest beings, intelligence-wise.” Need I say that this was Chandra talking? The heat kicked on and blew my way and it was the first I realized she was wearing perfume that smelled like the herbal tea they sold in the head shops around Was.h.i.+ngton Square Park back in New York.
I wrinkled my nose.
And ruffled Chandra's feathers.
Her eyes narrowed and her voice hardened. ”In fact,” she said, ”the ancient Egyptians-”
”Are dead, mummified, and poohed to dust. Every single one of them,” I reminded her and added, just for the sake of a little drama, ”they died from the germs because they let their cats pee anywhere they wanted. Like on their neighbor's flowers.”
”Oh, yeah?” It was the ultimate in bad comebacks, and yes, I knew better. I swear, I did. I just couldn't help myself. I answered Chandra with a ”yeah,” of my own.
It should be noted that at this point, Alvin dropped his head on his desk.
I'm convinced he would have kept it right there in the hopes that when he finally looked up, we'd all be gone, but at that moment, the door to the courtroom opened.
”Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were busy.” The woman who poked her head in, then stepped back, looked familiar. Short. Round. Dark hair dusted with silver. I'd been introduced to Marianne Littlejohn, the town librarian and Alvin's better half, at a recent potluck.
Only the evening of the gathering, her eyes weren't puffy and her nose wasn't red. Not like they were now.
”Marianne! What's wrong?” Yes, this would have been a perfect thing for Alvin to say, but it wasn't the magistrate who raced to the door and grabbed Marianne's hands. It was Chandra. She drew Marianne into the room. ”Your aura is all messed up.”
”It's...it's...” Now that it was time to explain, Marianne hiccuped over the words. ”I've had such terrible news.”
Kate checked the time on her phone. ”And that's a shame, really, but we need to finish up here. I've got to get over to the winery-”
”And I've got someone coming to repair the stained gla.s.s window in my front stairway,” I piped in, refusing to be outdone by Miss I'm-So-Important. ”So if I could just pay a fine or something, I'll be heading home. And by the way...” I hoped Kate could see the wide-eyed, innocent look I shot her from behind my gla.s.ses. ”I hear the stained gla.s.s artist is going to be driving a really big truck.”
A head toss from Kate.
A click of the tongue from Chandra.
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