The Book of Eleanor (11 page)

I dropped the bottle of correction fluid onto the floor as I backed away from the drafting table. Oscar Marie was standing up on her perch now, her back arched and fur standing up all over her body. I pressed my back against the dining room wall.

“Mary? Honey?” I searched the room. It had to be her. There was no wind coming in from outside and the air-conditioning hadn’t kicked on since nightfall.

“Mary? Won’t you talk to me, sweetheart? Are...are you angry at me for moving? I kept your books though, all but the ones Brynna took. They’re all here.”

I waited, willing her to communicate so I could be comforted by her presence instead of afraid. I heard the wind outside, buffeting the exterior of my apartment, but she didn’t speak to me.

A low growl sounded from Oscar Marie. The door to the Bookmark clicked open. The slow groan of the door opening set every hair on my body rising. I knew I had shut the door securely before coming back to work, when I had swept the huge expanse of floor one last time, preparing for tomorrow’s furniture delivery, and then checked the alarm before switching off all the lights. I had closed that door. Yet it gaped open invitingly, as if waiting for me to come and learn the secrets of the universe. I couldn’t move. Terror held my body captive.

Oscar Marie followed her usual descent path from drafting table to dining table to chair to floor. She approached the doorway cautiously, and then moved across the threshold.

“Ossie! Wait!” I cried, my body released from its paralysis.

I stepped to the door and reached for the lights. Before I could flip the switch, however, I was caught and held by the strange tableau before me. In the dimness, backlit by the streetlights of Lighthouse Square, I saw that the books I had left so neatly aligned on the shelves were now stacked in the center of the room in a high vertical column.

I noted movement and saw, to my horror, that the huge heavy stack, some eight feet tall, was suspended off the ground by a good twelve inches. The stack was bobbing in midair.

As I watched, the horizontal volumes began to break away from one another and spin in a strange tornado of books. It spun faster as I watched. Suddenly, one of the books broke away and made a beeline for me. I couldn’t move. Thankfully, it passed inches from my head and slammed into the doorframe.

A loud phantom scream fractured the night and woke me from my stupor.

I grabbed Oscar Marie roughly by her collar and scurried into the relative safety of the apartment as more books broke loose from the vortex. I slammed the door shut and felt the vibration of the heavy wood panel as several volumes slammed against it.

I twisted the deadbolt and backed away from the door, holding my breath while I waited for what other new horror would befall me.

Mama and I were both having a hard time waking up this morning. Thank goodness Gail was lively enough for both of us because she was doing most of the setups while Mama and I leaned on the bar, slurping extra coffee.

“So why are you so tired?” I asked her.

She blushed suddenly, causing me to chuckle into my coffee cup.

“That’s none of your business, young ’un.”

“Hey, that’s just fine with me, Mama. You’d best get it while you can.” I waved a dismissive hand at her. “So how does Nando look this morning?”

She grinned at me and moved to the back of the bar for more coffee. “Who said anything about Fernando?”

I perked right up. “Mama...something you want to tell me?”

She added extra cream to her cup. “I already told you it was none of your business.”

I slid off my stool and moved toward her.

“Oh no, you don’t! Don’t you dare touch me!” She laughed, the movement causing her white apron to flutter against her abundant chest.

I paused in my advance. Curiosity was chewing a hole in me, but she was my mother and I had to respect that.

“Shoot, Mama, come on!” I begged, stretching an arm toward her.

She laughed at my dilemma, but shook her head firmly.

I backed away and resumed my seat.

“So what’s been happening in Angie’s world?” she asked when she took her seat next to me.

I looked at her, trying to show my aggravation. “Oh, yeah, like I’m gonna tell you anything now.”

She stared me down, her familiar warm brown eyes filled with merriment and demand.

“I met Grey again,” I said finally.

“Grey?” She squinted, trying to remember.

“The woman I dumped the pizza on.”

“Oh. Which one?”

It took me thirty seconds before I realized she was pulling my leg. “Aw, Mama. Why you gotta be mean? You know I’ve never dumped a pizza on anyone else.”

Her smile was infectious. “I don’t know about that. Seems to me when you were just starting out, you let fly a couple.”

I ignored her comment, realizing it was true. “So anyway, I ran into her on the beach yesterday. She’s awesome. I took her over to Couscous’s place, and we had a blast.”

Mama smiled a satisfied little smile and leaned forward, showing her interest. “So what’s she like?”

I shook my head and focused on the ceiling. “Better than I expected. We didn’t get a chance to talk much because Sanchez and Vetty were there, but I got a big old hug when we said good-bye.”

Mama sat back and closed her eyes. “I am so happy for you, baby girl. It’s about time you found the right one.” She rose. I knew our morning laziness was over. “I don’t know how you know all these things, but you know I trust you with it,” she went on.

She pulled me into a sideways hug. I pressed my cheek to hers and opened myself. I saw the two of them lifting beers at the Puddle. They are the only ones in the place because it is so late. Mama and…
Donny
.

I pulled back and grinned at her. “Ooh, he’s hot, Mama. Good for you!”

“Darn you, Angela Rose. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you.”

“You know you can’t have secrets from me, Mama. Too connected.” I paused. “So do you know where she lives? Grey Graham?”

“Now, how would I…?” She paused. I saw memory stir behind her big brown eyes. “Wait a minute…Grey Graham. That’s the name of the woman who bought Ruetta’s place. Just on the corner here.”

As if highlighting her words, a huge truck from Canton Furniture in Brownsville blocked out the morning sunlight when it passed into the square. We quieted and watched the truck in unison as it lumbered by. I looked at Mama and she looked at me.

“Go! Go see,” she said, sighing. “But try to get back here soon. Hasty’s not coming in until ten.”

Unable to hide my delight, I let loose a little squeal and kissed her cheek. “You got it!”

I walked down the Square and there she was, watching nervously while the men tried to position the truck on Maxan so it wouldn’t block the entire street. It was a good thing they’d come early. Most of the slanted parking slots were empty and they had more room to maneuver.

Grey saw me. Her face lit with a light that flared her aura into a corona of gold around her head. She waved and I waved back as I made my way over to her.

“I just found out that you bought this place,” I told her. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I did. I live here too, in the back,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, Elizondo’s home away from home,” I said. “You must live alone then, because that place is small.”

Her smile faltered a bit. I could have kicked myself for bringing up what had to be a sore issue. I changed the subject quickly. I peered through the window and saw shelved books as far as I could see. “Ah, a bookstore! Cool!”

The smile returned. “Well, sort of. Actually it’s a reading room and coffeehouse.”

She paused as two men bearing a large easy chair paused behind her.

“Um, you need to go,” I said, trying to keep sadness out of my voice. “I guess they need you to tell them where to put everything.”

She glanced around. “Yeah,” she agreed apologetically.

“I gotta go do breakfast too.”

“Come back by later, maybe, when everything is set up.”

Her invitation thrilled me, but I remembered suddenly that I had to work. SPICEY first, and then at Mama’s.

“It’ll be later though, maybe not today. But I will. I’m…I’m really glad you’ll be here in Lighthouse Square.” I grimaced inwardly. How lame did that sound?

“Thank you,” she said, cocking her head to the side. She was adorable. “I’ll look forward to seeing you around.”

I lowered my head, feeling shy. I muttered something then waved stupidly. I turned and headed back to The Fat Mother. I glanced back once, but Grey had already gone inside.

I couldn’t help myself. I just had to walk through the Bookmark one more time.

I started at the securely bolted front door and strode slowly through my design. It was exactly as I had envisioned. Each of four conversation centers consisted of five chairs curved against the outer wall, with a coffee table set into the curve of the half moon of chairs. Two areas had two small end tables evenly spaced amid the chairs. These held beautiful art-deco lamps. Two others, though laid out the same fashion, had chandelier floor lamps that emitted a soft light at the back and sides of the grouping. The final two, closest to the coffee counters at the back of the store, had large breakfast nook-sized tables slightly higher than the others. These areas offered curved, cushiony bench seating with more modern-looking floor lamps.

The chunky, circular wooden carousels between each conversation area imparted a sense of privacy and gave the huge room some much needed definition. New Oriental rugs, laid end to end, bisected the room and gave it a desirable warmth. Also, it was much quieter. My footsteps no longer echoed when I walked through the room. The only things missing were the chalkboards, the coffeemakers and setups, and the wooden blinds for the four small recessed windows. Then it would be perfect.

I stepped through the open door of the storeroom, which had been transformed. Heavily lined burgundy drapes almost hid the rank of windows on the side and the larger windows to the front. I had hung sheers under the front set so that some light filtered in.

The seating in this room was much the same, some easy chairs with the exception of two plush chaise lounges, both in matching burgundy, and library tables and chairs in the front. Each chaise had a cloth shaded floor lamp, as did each of the random chairs in this room. The chairs in each corner had an end table holding a squat, fat, ceramic lamp with a large shade. The center rug bore a floral pattern in blue and burgundy that totally pulled the room together.

I stepped back into the main hall. I was no interior designer, but I thought I’d done pretty doggone well. I was very happy with the result.

I opened the door to my apartment. After switching off the main light switches, I quaked inside as I looked at the bookshelves, wondering if tonight would be as disturbing as last night. It had taken me most of the morning to re-shelve all the books piled against my door and in the center of the room. The spine and glue of one book had been broken in the attack. Anger had filled me when I saw it. How could Mary do something like that to her own precious books? And try to hurt me? It just didn’t make sense. My anger at Mary, and her ridiculous haunting, had carried me through the day, providing the escape hatch I needed to be able to work on the Bookmark when the movers had arrived.

I pushed the door shut and engaged both locks, double- checking that the door was firmly closed and locked.

Sighing, I turned to my drafting table. Only four more days before this strip had to be sent in. I would scan and e-mail it first, and then overnight the original to the distributor so it could be reproduced properly.

I stared out at the bay a few minutes before turning on the long, skinny light over the table. The light obscured the details beyond the closed window, but I could still see the gentle swelling of the waves. Oscar Marie came and took her usual spot, perching above me when I patted the table.

The strip waited patiently for me. Taking up my smaller marker, I seesawed it between my fingers while I pondered my next move.

I had repaired Mister Marks’s mouth earlier that morning before the moving men had arrived, and I had written in Suzy’s punch line to the right side above her head. Some cartoonists used balloons, but I preferred self-delineated all caps text with a simple line to the person talking if more than one in a panel. When just one person was talking, I usually didn’t bother with a line. The position of the talking character’s mouth lent clarity.

I moved backward to the next empty panel. I sketched the two in the exact same positions, except Suzy leaned forward, examining a sheet of paper in her hand. Her boss was talking this time. I gave his mouth an intriguing V shape around the ever- present cigar. His eyes were closed while he pontificated, saying,
But you’re a very good worker, Suzy, I can’t understand that.
I had to reposition Suzy’s foot a few times to get it believable. I raised the boss’s hand in an expressive flutter as he said the phrase.

Happy with that, I moved to the next panel and sketched the same scene yet again. I had overlays that I could choose from: Suzy’s desk, her usual clothing, the boss’s suit, parts of the characters in various expressions, but they were still buried in one of the unpacked boxes beneath the worktable. This strip would be totally freehand, and I was actually enjoying the process. It made it seem less like production and more like the art it had begun as.

Engrossed in my work, I absently reached up and patted Oscar Marie’s overhanging paw when she moved restlessly. She mewed, but it wasn’t comfort.

I glanced up and saw that she was looking at something behind me. My gaze flew to the darkened windowpane. I saw reflected behind me and to the right, just over my shoulder, a thin pale woman with long black hair.

I screamed, unable to help myself. She dissipated like morning fog. I whirled, trying in vain to catch my breath, but there was no one there. Gasping for air, my heart hammering in my chest like it would burst any second, I stood. After grasping my high stool for support, I backed away from the center of the room until my back was against the wall. Oscar Marie watched me calmly, her tail twitching.