Point of Attraction (21 page)

“Don’t let Paula come here,” Georgie
called out. “I don’t want her anywhere near me right
now.”

“You hear her?” Nick asked Cassie.
“Make Paula see she can’t do anything here. I’m here, go’na be
here, and so will Dudley Do-Right. No, he went with the cops to
Jeffrey’s. We need you to keep Paula calm, not go all wacko and
stress out the baby. We’ll call Steven. He might not even be home.
Probably taking another look at his own situation.” A slight pause
again. “Well of course, I noticed. That little Lucy either deals
with it or Steven sees the uphill snowball shit and walks away...
if he’s smart. Anyway, can you go over and talk to Paula? Thanks,
Babe.” This time, the pause made him smile. “But you are a
Babe.”

He placed the phone back in its cradle
and looked at her. Georgie took a deep breath, shook her head and
did a long exhale.

“What?” he asked, with a shrug of
innocence. “She is a Babe; gay or not, she’s a Babe.”

“You know why we’re such good friends?”
Georgie asked, finally feeling the nirvana of the tequila. “No one
else will put up with you... or us, I guess.”

“That’s true enough,” he said. “Lord
only knows how Sam and April put up with you and Cassie.” He tossed
his chin up at her drink. “Little stingy with the tequila, aren’t
you?”

“There was just enough
orange juice for one glass, and as much as I love you.
Ain’t
no way in hell I
was letting you have it.”

“That’s okay,” he said, going to the
bottle and poured half a small glass. “I like mine straight
up.”

“Don’t we all,” she countered, and
began to laugh at her thoughts of the double meaning.

“Whoa there. Just how much shit did you
put in that?”

The laughter died, shoved away by
visions of Raggs, and pinching her eyes shut didn’t make them go
away. Nothing did.

“It’s like losing Mom all over again,”
she said, voice shaky as tears welled hot in her eyes. Max brushed
against her leg and Daisy whimpered at the laundry room
door.

“Hey, hey,” Nick said, as Georgie found
herself pulled to him, his large hand capping and patting her head.
“Let’s call Steven. Come on. Go wash your face.”

She nodded as she drew away from the
citadel of his hold. He waved a finger and scrunched up his face.
“Go on. You’re all smudged up.”

Georgie smacked his chest.

He rubbed the offending hand. “You have
to be calm when you talk to him.”

As she went up the hall, she heard him
open the door for Daisy.

“Come on, Girl,” he said. “Everyone’s
gone now.”

Both Daisy and Max ran to catch up with
her. Georgie knelt and smoothed a hand over their heads. It took
great effort to straighten and turn on the faucet. The cool water
felt good on her face. Nick was right, she thought, looking into
the mirror. She was a mess, in more ways than one.

~~0~~

Once more seated at the Kitchen table,
Georgie pushed in Steven’s speed dial number. Half expecting to get
his message or pager, it surprised her when Steven answered. She
really thought he would be with Lucy trying to work things
out.

“This is something Lucy needs to figure
out herself,” he said. “Not sure, but I think there’s something
deeper bothering her. When she’s ready, she’ll tell me. If she
doesn’t, then...” Georgie heard his long sad sigh and easily
visualized him shrugging. “Then it can’t be saved. If we can’t talk
about what hurts us, then what is there? What’s up, Mom? I know you
didn’t call me this late just to ask me about Lucy.”

“I’m putting you on speaker,” she said,
looked to Nick, took a hard swallow of nothing, and started in with
the events. Though it was easier to recount this time, the whole
thing was painfully surreal.

“I’m coming over,” Steven said when she
finished.

“No!” she spurted out, saw Nick motion
her to clam down, and pulled herself in. “There’s no need. Nick is
here and Mason will be here too. The police are looking into
it.”

“I don’t like this. Is this the same
Sanders that does your shop accounting?”

“Yes. But you know, I just don’t think
he would do this. I...”

“Oh, for God’s sakes,” Nick
said.

“I gather Uncle Nick thinks it
is.”

“Yes, he does. The police are probably
at Jeffrey’s now. Mason is with them.”

For a moment, there was no response.
The whole thing had been a lot for her to take in, so she knew
Steven must be struggling with it too. Who wouldn’t?

“I think it’s good Cassie is the one
telling Paula,” Steven finally said. “I better get off the phone so
Paula can get through. She’ll want to talk to you. Let me know what
the police have to say. I have to try and get some sleep. I’m
putting in some volunteer time at St. V.’s ER for extra credits. If
Uncle Nick leaves, let me know. I don’t want you alone. I’ll come
over.”

“I’m fine, but thank you for caring.
Love my kids.”

“Love you too.”

When she heard the click at the other
end, she hung up and looked to Nick. “You should take off your
jacket.”

He glanced down at himself, surprise
pulling up his eyebrows, mouth slightly open. “Didn’t realize I
still had it on.”

He disappeared down the
hallway into the living room and came right back minus the
leatherwear. Georgie supposed he tucked it behind the couch;
his
peg on the
wall, so-to-speak... a habit she and Sam only smiled at.
Daisy and Max finally settled in their nightly curl-up on the floor
near her.

“Shouldn’t Roberts and his
group be at Jeffrey’s by now?” she asked, staring down at her
tilted empty glass and not really expecting an answer. The nagging
doubt began trifling with her. How could someone she thought she
knew so well, change so suddenly? While she sensed Jeffrey wanted
more than friendship from her, she just didn’t see him
obsessed
, though he was
finicky; a neat freak, Emmee once called him. One obsession for
another?

The sharp whir of the blender startled
her. Nick was instant-thawing some orange juice with water in the
blender. He stopped. Georgie saw his sight fix on the rose still on
the counter in the corner. He jerked it out of the vase and tossed
it in the garbage disposal. It was a quick death in a crunching
grind.

If he noticed her watching, he offered
no comment, and neither did she. He poured juice into her glass and
set down the tequila, giving her the option of how much to put in
or not, and she smiled. The silver white of the spirit took on the
orange color. After giving the amount a gauging thought she was
about to add more. At Nick’s arching eyebrow, she arched her own in
return, daring him to say anything.

“Did you know tequila really isn’t made
from cactus?” she said. “Though the agave plant is a succulent,
it’s not considered a cactus.”

There was no response to her gathered
bit of trivial information, and she shrugged. “Well, I was
surprised when I read it.”

“Cassie should be arriving at Paula’s,”
he said, sitting in the seat opposite her. “And yes, I knew that
about the agave. Probably long before you read it. It’s the Weber
Blue, or Blue Weber, whichever you prefer.”

Georgie added more tequila to her glass
and more to his. “Let’s hear it for the Weber Blue Agave,” she
said.

After their traditional clinking
“salute,” they took their sip. The last time she had indulged like
this was when they buried Sam. Everyone had gone home. Nick, Cassie
and April stayed. April sat in the corner patiently waiting for the
three of them to drown their grief in drink and
remembrance.

“I don’t suppose you and Mason
exchanged phone numbers so he could call us from
Jeffrey’s.”

Georgie blinked away the past and
looked down into her glass. She wanted to offer a quick and clever
retort, but only managed a weak shrug.

“You two need guidance,” he said,
taking another swallow and settled back in the chair. “Neither of
you knows how to date anymore.” He toyed with the glass, tilting it
this way and that, his sight on its undulating contents. “He’s a
good man, Georgie Girl.”

“And you know this how?”

“Trust me,” he smiled. “I know.” After
a moment that only friends could accept without question, he asked,
“You know how his wife died?”

She was caught by surprise at his
question. It was Mason’s place to open that chapter of his life,
not hers, or Nick’s. Sometimes Nick’s prying was unnerving. She was
grateful her phone rang, and she put it on speaker.

“Mom,” Paula’s voice was tight, but
controlled. “Ryan and I want you to come stay with us.”

“I’m fine. Nick is here.”

“Well, at least the Bad Penny is where
he should be, for once,” Paula said.

“I heard that.”

“You’re on speaker,” Georgie
said.

“Like I didn’t know that. Mom, I’m
serious. You’re in danger there. Cassie said Nick thinks Jeffrey
Sanders is the one who did this. Do you know how many cases like
this turn deadly? Mom...”

“Now you’re scaring me.” She meant it
as a jest to lighten the moment, but Paula wasn’t buying into
it.

“I mean to scare you. You need waking
up here.”

“You tell her, Counselor.”

“Nick,” Georgie warned.

“He’s right, Mom. Come stay with us
until the police clear this up. What does that... new friend of
yours, Officer Montgomery, say?”

Nick cleared his throat. “He’s with the
police right now,” he said. “And I would cut him some slack, little
girl. He put his standing with his department in jeopardy by
following me during this thing.”

“Uncle Nick, tell me you
didn’t do
anything
that could see this thing thrown out of court on a
technicality if they catch this guy.”

“Oh, now it’s
Uncle Nick
?”

“Are you two through?” Georgie asked.
When neither answered, she said, “Honey, Nick will be here a few
days, and the police are looking into it right now. They should be
calling soon or at least bringing Mason back. Are you okay? That’s
what I want to know.”

“I’m fine, Mother. I’m not the one
being stalked.”

“I’m hanging up now. I just didn’t want
you to hear it from someone else. See to it you don’t worry the
baby. Love you. Good night.”

“Love you too.”

All Georgie could do was
stare at the phone while the dial tone begged for a break in
connection.
Stalked
. The word and its implication hung on the edge of the
mmmmmmmm
. Stalking had
not occurred to her. Raggs taken. The dead-line phone calls at the
shop. That car in her driveway the first night Mason followed her
home. She was sure of it now. How far had it come in her drive?
Why? Who? She never did actually see if it was Jeffrey’s big
Durango or not. Would he actually try to run her over? Right in
front of her shop? The whole thing made no sense.

Nick set the phone on its base, cutting
off the dial tone, then sat staring at her, his normally sharp
brown eyes looking worried. She tried to take a drink, but the
glass shook in her hand, then realized it wasn’t the glass, but her
hand... she was shaking all over and very cold.

“You
are
being stalked,” Nick said, and
the strange clinical sound of his voice only added to the chill in
the room. “And whoever it is, has turned very ugly. I’m hoping it
is Jeffrey. Cause if it’s not, we have a big problem.”

This time, when her phone rang, Georgie
jumped, but her hand wouldn’t move to pick it up.

“You going to answer it?” Nick
asked.

Slow motion seized her muscles. At a
snail’s crawl, her hand finally picked up the phone, but words
would not form.

“George. George?”

“Yes.” The one word tore its way
through her vocal cords.

“Let me talk to Nick,” Mason
said.

The urgency in his voice caught Georgie
and she shook her head. “No. I’ll put the phone on
speaker.”

“George.”

“No. This is happening to me. I have
the right to know.”

She could hear the hum of a car motor,
police radio. They weren’t parked.

“Jeffrey doesn’t appear to be home,”
Mason said. “At least he never came to the door. No sounds in the
house. No lights. Roberts’ asked for a search warrant.”

At the laden pause, she asked,
“And?”

“A call came in while we were
waiting.”

“A call?”

“Yeah. A dark green Durango was
reported at Upper State Street Park. We’re almost there now. It
doesn’t look good.”

She could hear car doors opening,
bodies bursting from their seats, the squawking of police mikes,
footsteps hitting the gravel, but it was the distinct clicking of
weapons preparing for fire that bombarded Georgie.