Part 8 (1/2)
”Good. I'll just go attend to my morning ablutions and the three of us will adjourn to Styles Cafe for a hearty breakfast, all right? You look wonderful, by the way,” he ended, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he breezed by her, on his way to his own condo.
That was it? Hi, let's have breakfast? A kiss on the cheek? No postmortem? No ... G.o.d help her, no encore?
She held up a hand in a ”wait a minute, we have to talk” gesture, and then gave it up because they might have to talk, but she'd be d.a.m.ned as to what either of them would say, so she just poured herself a gla.s.s of orange juice and retreated to her computer. She knew what she was doing at her computer, or at least she used to, before Alex showed up.
So what was he up to now? She'd made him, she ought to know.
Maggie opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled out the character description sheets she'd written before writing her first Saint Just mystery. She'd added to the description over the years as she'd learned more about her character, but could there be anything in those notes to tell her what to expect from him now?
Age: 35 Physical description ... well, she already knew that one. One could say she now knew that intimately.
She knew about his youth, his relations.h.i.+p with his parents. She knew his hobbies, his likes and dislikes-from the color of his waistcoat to the flavor of jam he liked best on his morning toast-but there was really nothing to tell her how he'd react in a situation like this.
Had there ever been a situation like this?
Giving her investigation up as a dead-end pursuit, Maggie woke her computer and started her search engine, and then typed in santasforsilver.org, just hoping for an easy hit ... and she found one.
The site certainly looked professional, or as professional as a site could look with a line of animated high-kicking Santas doing their Rockettes thing along the top of the page. The site was composed of several pages. One for locations of Santas for Silver both in Manhattan and on Long Island and Staten Island. Another page contained an application to become a Santa for Silver. Another page was loaded with hearty endors.e.m.e.nts from people a.s.sociated with soup kitchens, homeless shelters, youth clubs, all those good things, stating how Santas for Silver was always so generous, etc., etc.
”Nothing here to hurt anybody,” she said and closed the page, deciding that a few games of Snood wouldn't turn her back into a Snood addict. She'd kicked nicotine, right? She certainly could play Snood without becoming hooked again. Besides, it was pretty hard to think of anything else when the Snoods were dropping, and she really didn't want to think about anything else. Anyone else ...
”Good morning, Maggie.”
Maggie looked up from the screen to see Sterling standing just inside the door, dressed in his Santas for Silver suit, a large bra.s.s bell in his gloved hand. He even had a small silver badge pinned to his chest. On it was a carved Santa head and S-4-S-Santas for Silver. Cute. ”Oh, don't you look sweet,” she said, getting to her feet and giving him a big hug. ”Are you going to have time to go to breakfast with us?”
”No, I'm sorry to say, but I must be on duty in an hour, and I still must return to Santa headquarters to retrieve my chimney. Saint Just said you weren't feeling well last night, so he sat up with you until the wee hours, then fell asleep on the couch. He's a true friend, Saint Just is, isn't he? Are you feeling more the thing this morning, Maggie?”
”Sure, Sterling, thank you, it was ... it was just a headache,” Maggie said, one question answered. Alex wasn't going to borrow Sterling's bell and go around town ringing it and yelling, ”I got some, I got some!” Thank heaven for small favors ...
”All set, Maggie?” Alex asked from behind Sterling who, although he had no hat to tip, graciously shook his huge red stocking cap, the one with the bell on the end, and then headed for the elevator. ”Lord bless him, I'd hate to burst his happy bubble.”
”You don't have to,” Maggie said, grabbing her coat from the hook beside the door. ”I looked up Santas for Silver, and they sure look legit. Legal, that is, if you don't know that term. Come on, I'm starving.”
And she wasn't kidding. Until she took her first bite of scrambled eggs, she hadn't realized just how hungry she was, but once those eggs. .h.i.t it was as if her body moaned ”And it's about d.a.m.n time, lady!” and it wasn't until she was munching on her second slice of bacon that it occurred to her that neither she nor Alex had said anything after giving their orders to the waitress.
”Um ... thanks for covering for me,” she told him, then quickly took another bite of bacon. ”I mean, with Sterling. He ... he might have gotten ideas, and we don't want to hurt him, get his hopes up or anything.”
Alex merely nodded. ”Have you spoken to your mother, Maggie?”
”Huh?” Talk about changing the subject, jeez. ”No, and you know I haven't. I've been ducking her calls, just like the loyal, loving child I am. Why? Oh,” she added a moment and one brain synapse later. ”Oh, no. You're not going to-no, you wouldn't do that. Would you?”
”Travel to Ocean City with you for Christmas and apply to your father for your hand in marriage because I compromised you last night, you mean?”
Maggie could feel her cheeks going crimson. ”Yeah. That. That honorable Regency gentleman happy horse hockey. You wouldn't do that, would you?”
Alex lifted his coffee cup and smiled at her over the rim. ”No, I don't think so.”
She collapsed against the red leather booth in relief and then just as quickly sat up very straight again. ”Hey, wait a minute, buster. What do you mean, I don't think so? What? I'm not good enough for you?”
Alex took a sip of coffee, then returned the cup to the tabletop. ”Very well, if you insist.”
”No!” Maggie clapped a hand over her mouth and looked around the small cafe, hoping no one had overheard her. ”No,” she repeated quietly, ”I don't want you to do that.” Then she told the truth. ”But you could have at least pretended, you know.”
”I'm sorry. Should we go back and begin again?”
Maggie shook her head and then dropped her paper napkin on her half-eaten breakfast. ”Nope. I'm done. We're done. What do you say we go check up on Santa Sterling.”
”Father Christmas Sterling,” Alex corrected. He smiled at the waitress who had been leaning on the counter, looking at him, and she flew to the table to ask if there was ”anything else the gentleman needed.”
”Boy, that torks me,” Maggie told him after they'd paid the check-she'd paid the check, actually, just to let the waitress know she'd been sucking up to the wrong tipper-and they were out on the street once more. ”I could have been a department store dummy you'd propped up across from you, for all the attention I get when I'm with you. But you eat it up, don't you? When you even notice. Not only that, you encourage them.”
”I beg your pardon?” Alex asked as he tipped his hat at the female cop at the corner who waved back to him, called him by name. ”I encourage what?”
”You know what. Women, fawning over you. You called that waitress by name-”
”Loretta, yes.”
”Right. Loretta. She's been waiting on me for years. Years, Alex. I don't know her name.”
”You're not a people person, Maggie,” he explained. ”You live in your work, your books. And, as a beneficiary of that myopia when it comes to the rest of the world, you have my grat.i.tude. Ah, and there's our boy now. He looks so happy.”
Maggie s.h.i.+fted her attention from glowering at Alex to grinning at Sterling, who was industriously ringing his bell and ho-ho-hoing each time someone stopped to give some silver to Santa.
”You know, that's kind of cute, in a cheesy, commercial sort of way,” she said as she watched a child place a quarter inside what looked to be a large funnel inside the clear fibergla.s.s chimney. The quarter began at the top, going round and round, descending by mere inches with each revolution, until it finally disappeared into the hole at the bottom of the funnel, at which time the chimney flashed red and green for a few moments and the child wailed to his mother, ”More! I want to do it again!”
”And four quarters equal one dollar,” Alex pointed out as the child dropped another coin and clapped as it did its descending rotations around the funnel. ”American ingenuity at work. Quite impressive.”
They watched Sterling for some minutes, then crossed the street to hear Vernon, aka Snake, his Byronic good looks and deep voice as enticing as the Hamlet soliloquy he was performing.
” '... a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep-To sleep' -hiya, Alex- 'perchance to dream.' ”
”Handsome, even talented, but, unfortunately, dumb as a red brick,” Alex said, sighing.
”Yup. Snort-snort and all that,” Maggie said, grinning. ”And, handsome and great voice and all to one side, he also has the bladder control of a poodle when he's upset, as I remember it, anyway. Do you remember the day we found that out? Oh, Alex, we've had us some fun, haven't-”
”Hey, shut up, lady. Can't you hear he's talking?”
”Hey, sorr-eee.” Maggie rolled her eyes as the man who'd shushed her turned to listen to Vernon once more. ”And you want me to get out more, Alex, interact and all that good stuff. Sure.”
”If you can go out without causing a riot, yes. And speaking of riots,” he said, taking her arm and steering her back the way they'd come, ”I suggest we keep our faces averted and step lively.”
”Why?” Maggie asked, trying to pull her arm free as she looked back over her shoulder. ”What's the-oh, cripes. It's true-stand on a street corner in Manhattan long enough, and eventually you'll see everyone you know pa.s.sing by. Man, I hate knowing that's true. Move it, Alex.”
But it was too late.
”You!” Nikki Campion screeched in her unpleasantly high voice. ”I thought it was you. Oh, this is terrific. You just wait right there while I get my Uncle Salvatore. Don't move, if you know what's good for you!”