"Hey Saul."
"Nina," he grabbed his heart, "my bella! It's been too long." He grabbed my hand to kiss my knuckles.
"Hi, Saul." I wrenched my hand free. Saul Simeon was as smarmy as men came, but he meant no harm. I'd known him just shy of forever—he was an old family friend. His gray hair had been slicked back, and he wore a badly tailored suit and gaudy gold rings on both hands.
Saul rubbed his hands together, the rings clinking. "To what do I owe this pleasure? How can I help you folks today?"
Perry had already wandered off, his attention diverted by something shiny. I poked Mr. Cabrera in the ribcage.
He coughed and said, "I'm here to look at rings. Eng—" He coughed some more. "Engagement rings."
"You sly old dog!" Saul cried. "You're finally going to tie the knot again. Who's the lucky ball and chain? Is it Ursula?"
Weakly, Mr. Cabrera nodded.
"Lucky lady!"
Mr. Cabrera looked a little pale as Saul motioned him over to a display case. Behind the glass, dozens of diamond rings winked under the bright lights.
I linked my arm in Mr. Cabrera's and leaned in to whisper, "You love her, right?"
Wiping his brow, he said, "More than anything."
"Then you're doing the right thing."
He frowned at me. "Easy for you to say. You're not tying yourself down for the rest of your life."
"Suck it up, Mr. Cabrera. If you want your happily ever after, this is the way to do it."
"What kind of moral support are you?" he asked, a horrified expression in his eyes.
"One that's going to tell you the truth."
"Oh. My. God. Nina, look at these cufflinks," Perry gushed. "They're to die for. To. Die. For!"
I said, "We're supposed to be helping Mr. Cabrera, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah," he said, his eyes glued to the display case.
Saul was pulling out little velvet boxes and setting them on the counter. "Do you know what style Ursula likes?"
Mr. Cabrera said, "An affordable one."
I elbowed him again.
"Ow!" He stepped aside. "Why'd you do that?"
"This is no time to be cheap."
"No," Saul quickly agreed. "It isn't."
"Pony up, Mr. Cabrera," Perry said.
Mr. C. groaned.
I leaned down and examined the rings. "It needs to be something simple. Ursula is not a frou-frou woman. But she has style...she won't want something cheap." I threw Mr. Cabrera a look.
He looked like he wanted to toss his cookies again.
Saul held up a finger. "I have just the selection." He reached into the case and pulled out a tray of rings elegantly pinned to velvet.
All were round diamonds in different settings. Some stood on their own, and some were encircled with smaller diamonds. Some had diamond bands, some had designed bands, some had plain.
"Do you see one you like?" I asked.
One of Mr. Cabrera's eyebrows lifted. "Meh. Not quite. He tapped the glass. That one."
Saul's eyes lit up and he greedily reached into the case. I smiled as he brought out the ring Mr. Cabrera had pointed to. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Saul held it up. "A one carat oval cut center diamond, surrounded by a half carat of smaller round diamonds that also trail down the platinum band. It is—" he kissed his fingers "—sublime."
Perry wandered over and ooohed. "I've never seen an oval diamond before."
"It's unique," Mr. Cabrera announced proudly, "just like my Ursula."
I nudged him. "That's the spirit."
"Wrap it up," Mr. Cabrera said in one quick breath.
"Don't you want to know how much?" Saul asked.
Mr. C. pulled out his wallet and passed over a credit card. "No. I don't want to change my mind."
I intercepted the card as he handed it over. "But, I'm sure you'll give Mr. Cabrera the friends and family discount, right, Saul?"
His beady eyes gleamed. "Of course! Of course!" He snatched the card.
Perry cleared his throat. "How much for the mother of pearl and ruby cufflinks?"
"Ah!" Saul practically salivated. He pulled out the cufflinks in question and placed them on the counter. "You have exquisite taste."
"I know," Perry said.
"These are also unique, a trait reflected in the price."
I sighed. "Saul..."
He shot me an irritated glance. "Twelve hundred."
"I don't think they're in your budget," I said to Perry.
He looked between me and the cufflinks. "I hate the budget."
"Think of your house. The quartz countertop. The hand-scraped oak floors."
He pouted—he'd definitely been taking lessons from Maria. "Mario would kill me."
"Yes," I said. "Yes, he would. And you're not exactly on his favorite-person list right now."
"You want?" Saul said to him.
Perry let out a deep sigh. "Yes, but I can't have them. Not today."
Saul tsked. "Such a shame. I'm unsure they'll be here when you return."
Perry shot me a look.
"Saul," I said.
He said, "You can't blame a man for trying." Picking up the ring, he swept through swinging doors with Mr. Cabrera's credit card firmly in hand.
"I don't feel so well," Mr. C. said.
"Me, either," Perry added, peering at his beloved cufflinks.
I bit my tongue from lashing out at either of them.
Saul was back in a jiff, had Mr. Cabrera sign the credit card receipt, and handed over a small bag.
Perry moped his way to the car. "When are you going to ask Ursula the big question?"
"I don't know," he said.
I turned on the car. "I wouldn't wait too long."
He clasped the bag to his chest. "I need to come up with a plan. Do something special. I've waited this long, so I don't suppose another day will matter."
As I headed home, I hoped that he wasn't wrong about that.
Chapter Seventeen
Later that night I stood at the kitchen counter chopping green chilies for the enchiladas I was making for dinner. Maria and Perry were back to watching episodes of Small-Town Crown (they were going to need a twelve-step program soon), and I had Riley working on setting the table. After dinner he'd head back to Kevin's condo across town—it was a school night and the weekend visit was drawing to a close.
My heart clenched a little at the fact that he was leaving again, and I wondered if it was ever going to get easier. Probably not. Then next thing I knew he'd be headed off to college. Then married. Then babies.
Heaven help me, but the thought of Kevin being a grandpa did make me smile.
As I slid the chilies into a mixing bowl, I kept throwing looks at Riley.
"What?" he asked. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"
After snatching a dishtowel that hung from the oven door handle, I dried my hands. "There will be plenty of extra for dinner if you want to invite anyone over."
His eyes flashed. "You want me to call Dad?"
I whipped the dishtowel in his direction. "I meant Layla. How long have you two been dating?"
"We're not dating." He set forks next to the plates. "We're seeing each other."
"Ohhhh," I said sarcastically. "Now I understand. How long have you been seeing each other? Has your dad met her?"
"A little while and no."
Riley lacked the ability to be forthcoming on just about any topic, but this was pushing his secrecy to a new level. "I can't help but feel as though you're keeping her from us. Like you're embarrassed of your family or something."
From the living room Maria shouted, "Oh my God, is she wearing a purple sequin jumper? No one wears purple sequins."
"Hookers do," Perry said. "I saw one last week, ho'ing downtown."
Maria said, "That's disturbing."
He said, "The sequins or the ho?"
"Both," she answered. "Both."
Riley set a stack of napkins on the tab
le, looked at me straight on and said, "Your point?"
Okay, our family was a tiddly bit embarrassing. Most were, though, so that was no excuse. "I'd like to meet her."
"Maybe," he said evasively.
Cheddar cheese went into the bowl along with some shredded chicken and garlic. "Maybe next weekend or maybe if hell freezes over?"
"We'll see," he said loftily and walked out of the kitchen.
I filled a dozen tortillas, set them in a baking pan, covered them with cheese and then foil and stuck the pan in the oven. I hopped onto a stool and slid my laptop over to see if my father had written back to me. I logged onto my email, but there were no new messages.
I drummed my fingers on the counter and finally called up a search engine. I typed in The Black Fox + Eric Thiessen.
I had to pay to read several articles that had been archived in the Cincinnati Enquirer. As I let what I read settle in my brain, I thought back to my childhood. I'd never associated anything bad with the Thiessen family, but these articles revealed that Mr. Thiessen's business had ties to a white supremacist gang. The week before the plane crash, he'd testified in a federal court about a murder he'd witnessed behind his pub.
The next week, he and his family were dead.
A shiver went up my spine. It was against one of my personal commandments to believe in coincidences.
However, if the plane had been tampered with, I didn't understand why there weren't more articles about the accident. Why hadn't anyone been charged with killing the family?
I was stewing over it when Perry walked into the kitchen and sat next to me. He propped his elbow on the counter and settled his chin into his hand. Sadness was etched into every line on his face—at least the ones he hadn't Botoxed.
I patted his back. "It'll all be okay."
"I screwed up, Nina."
Closing the laptop screen, I glanced over at him and was dismayed to see the depth of regret in his eyes. I couldn't very well agree with him without further hurting his feelings, so I waited for him to explain.
"I saw Kit and Mario leave the house earlier," he said.
Much to Kit's dismay, the pipes still weren't fixed, so it was another night of Mario under his roof.
"So I snuck over to check out the progress. I couldn't get in. Mario had changed the locks."
"No!"
"Yes! I mean, the back slider never locks right, so I was still able to get inside, but still. He changed the locks!"
"Can he do that? It's your house, too."
Drawing an imaginary circle on the counter, he said, "Actually it's not. Mario paid for it. I can barely save enough money to make my car payment."
He was one of the biggest spenders I knew. "Oh, Perry."
"The worst part is that this is all my fault. I had to gloat over those presents I got."
True. He had gloated. But I tried to make him feel better. "They were nice gifts."
"I know," he said, sliding me a surreptitious glance. "I picked them out."
It took a second for his words to register. "Wait. You what?"
"I picked them out. I sent the presents to myself, Nina."
"Perry Owens!"
He winced. "I wanted to make Mario realize what a catch I am."
"You've been hanging out with Mr. Cabrera too much."
Nodding, he said, "But what do I do now? I've screwed everything up."
I crossed the kitchen and grabbed two wine glasses and filled them to the rim. I slid one over to him. "You have to talk to him. Confess." I recalled what Bear had said to Mario. "I think he'll be receptive. You two love each other. You'll figure this out."
"You think?"
"Yes. But it wouldn't hurt for you to compromise a little in the relationship, like Maria advised. Life's not about material possessions."
"I suppose I can compromise. A little. I'll talk to him."
"Well, don't wait too long," I advised for the second time that afternoon.
He guzzled the wine. "I'll talk to him first thing in the morning, before I go to work. And I'll return all the presents, too."
"Perry!" Maria called. "She dropped the baton! She dropped the damn baton!"
Maria really needed to calm down or she was going to put herself into labor.
Scooting off his stool, he grabbed his glass and held it up to me in a half-hearted salute. "You're the best, Nina Quinn."
"Yeah, yeah."
"No, you are."
I fluffed my hair. "How about you show me?"
His eyebrows shot up. "What do you have in mind?"
"Sell me the vintage watch instead of bringing it back to the store? Father's Day is coming up, and my dad would love it."
He gulped.
"At a discount."
"How much of a discount?"
"Steep."
Taking a deep breath, he said, "Fine, but I'm not happy about it."
I said, "But I'm the best, remember?"
"The best bamboozler." He kissed my cheek.
As I watched him stride out of the kitchen, I could only hope that once Perry explained everything that Mario would give him a second chance.
That seemed to be a theme around here lately, second chances.
Mr. Cabrera and Brickhouse.
Perry and Mario.
Kevin and me?
I wasn't ready to make that decision but knew I'd have to soon.
Really soon.
***
There was something so soothing to me about early mornings at my office, even when that morning fell on a Monday.
The building was quiet—no one else was in yet—as I sat behind my desk and sipped my coffee. My gaze kept falling on the envelope sitting inside a plastic bag that lay askew on my blotter.
The plastic bag was a necessity because it had been hiding inside the planter of Tam's African violet, Sassy. Inside the thin folds of the paper envelope were Maria's ultrasound results.
I wouldn't have pulled the envelope from Sassy's pot except for the fact that I discovered my office key in the wrong spot on my key ring when I got to work today. It was usually nestled between my truck key and the storage shed key...but not today.
Which made me think that someone had "borrowed" the key at some point over the weekend. Probably to have a copy made so the culprit could break in and search for these ultrasound results while I was busy all day at Mario and Perry's house.
This left me little choice.
Setting my mug on the desk, I snapped open the plastic baggie and took out the envelope. I tapped it twice on its edge and tore a thin line across the short end and shook the piece of paper out onto my desk. It had been folded in quarters so the writing wouldn't be visible if held up to a light, and as I picked it up, my fingers ached to unfurl the note.
But I knew I couldn't. There's no way I could keep the baby's gender a secret. Before I could change my mind, I spun in my swivel chair and fed the note into the crosscut shredder. After the blades stopped churning, I scooped up the confetti and dropped it into a pile on my desk. I then took my scissors and began chopping the confetti into even smaller pieces.
I looked up as the front door chimed and Tam called out, "You have to tell me what happened with Ursula! Why did she call me this morning and tell me she's going away for a month?"
"A month?" I asked as Tam appeared in my doorway. "She told me two weeks."
"She bamboozled you."
Hmm. A lot of that going on lately.
Tam Oliver was the spitting image of a young Queen Elizabeth and had the haughty mannerisms to match. Perry even styled her hair in an old-fashioned style that complimented Tam's (and the Queen's) bone structure perfectly. However, when Tam spoke there was no mistaking the Midwest twang in her voice. And I seriously doubted that the Queen had the computer-hacking skills Tam possessed.
I sliced through some more confetti. "She and Mr. Cabrera had a falling out."
"Another one?"
"It's bad this time, but I have hope he can fix it." I told her
all about the big fight, and how Mr. Cabrera had bought an engagement ring.
Tam's eyes grew wide. "He's going to propose? When? Because she's packing to leave for a cruise that sets off tomorrow morning. She's flying down to Florida tonight. I think she said it was an eight o'clock flight."
"I'm sure he'll be nosing around the work site today, so I'll let him know that he's running out of time."
Tam smiled and rubbed her hands. "Ursula will be thrilled."
I hoped so. I really did.
Tam said, "What're you doing? Arts and crafts?"
"Of a sort." I explained. "If Maria finds the results, it'll be a lesson in patience to get all the pieces put back together again."
Tam frowned. "You should have just told her. It's her baby."
"Not you, too! She made me promise."
"Nina, if there's one thing you should know it's that promises are made to be broken."
Tam had a rough life growing up, and Nic's dad was better off out of her life. But I thought things had been going well with her and Ian. "You okay? You and Ian?"
She smiled. "Right as rain. Knock on wood." She tapped on the door jamb. "It's just that sometimes doing what's right means not being so righteous all the time."
I stuck my tongue out at her.
She laughed.
"Speaking of Ian," I said.
Rolling her eyes, she said, "What now? Does this have to do with Joey Miller's murder?"
She knew me too well. I swiveled in my seat again and fished through my tote. I came up with three plastic baggies and held them up. "I have some extra work for you if you're willing?"
"Standard terms?" she asked, stepping closer to get a better look at my bevy of evidence.
"Yes. One hour babysitting for every hour you work on the side project."
She held up one of the bags—the one that held Bear's cigarette butt. "Two hours. I'm going to have to get Ian involved, and you know how he hates that."
"And I know you love to persuade him."
She blushed. "You're right about that, but still."
"Okay, an hour and a half."
"Deal."
"The cigarettes are from Bear and Ethan from Delphine's crew. I don't need their DNA run or anything that technical—just their fingerprints."
"And this?" She held up Cain Monahan's business card. "A coroner's investigator? You don't really think he's involved..."