Tressa's Treasures (The King's Jewel Book 1) (6 page)

"Sleep now, Tressie," Brenna whispered into my ear.

CHAPTER FIVE

A Pixie, calling my name and nudging my arm, roused me from a deep sleep. As I awakened, I realized that it couldn't be a Pixie. The hand on my arm, although small, was too big to be one of theirs.

I fluttered my eyelids but wasn't quite ready to open them. Instead, I adjusted the blanket crumpled under my head and curled deeper into the glider.

"Wake up! Come on, Tressa, wake up!" the small voice pleaded.

I opened my eyes and found myself face to face with little Sophia Mannus. She shook my arm once more, her mouth set in a pout.

"Good morning, Pretty Sophia," I said, biding my time until I could get my bearings.

"Ha. Not morning—afternoon," said a masculine, familiar, and disapproving voice.

I sat up slowly, twisting to place my feet on the ground. I pushed my arms up over my head and arched my back, stretching my muscles awake.

It was indeed full daylight, though I didn't believe it was really past noon. More like ten o'clock, maybe ten-thirty. Brenna must have thrown some Pixie dust over me to help me sleep.

I patted my lap and Sophia climbed up, sitting with her back to me as if it were an old habit. I hugged her around her waist.

"What's wrong, Shamus? Don't you approve of my slovenly ways?"

While I teased him, Brenna flew up and kissed him on the tip of his nose. Shamus crossed his eyes to look at her, and Sophia giggled.

Brenna flew higher and sat on the top of his head.

Shamus sucked his teeth in disapproval. I didn't know if he meant the derogatory noise for Brenna or me—perhaps it was for both of us.

"I do not approve," he answered me. He shook his head with a quick jerk, causing Brenna to tumble from her perch. An inelegant noise escaped from my throat when I tried to suppress a burst of laughter.

"Ms. Órlaith said we should go find you," Sophia told me as she swung her legs—signaling, I thought, that she was ready to get down and get moving. I released her and she slid off my lap.

"She did? I wonder why," I said.

What I really wondered was how Sophia had come to be here at all. Here with my grandmother, here with Shamus. Had she and her father moved into the guesthouse that quickly?

Shamus interrupted my thoughts. "Mistress Holly called the house. She is distraught that you haven't contacted her. I gather she expected you at the store early this morning."

"Damn."

My playful mood vanished. I closed my eyes in dismay; I had told her I would come in early to clean up the store. Holly was a worrier, and after yesterday, it wouldn't take much to send her into a panic.

"I better get going. Thanks, Shamus."

"Hum," he grunted.

Now that I was fully awake and he had dutifully delivered his message, Shamus turned to leave. I said goodbye to Sophia. She took hold of the grumpy butler's hand and walked with him toward the main house. I had to smile as I watched them go.

When they were out of sight, Brenna called down to me from the tree where she was walking tightrope style across a twig.

"Come back soon, Tressie?"

"Sure I will." I gathered up my blanket. "Thanks for the sleep, Precious Brenna."

She nodded absently as she concentrated on walking the edge of the twig. She held her arms out to keep her balance and carefully placed her left foot down directly in front of her right.

When her foot was securely place, she looked up.

"Bring your fiddle?"

"I will."

I threw her a kiss goodbye and rushed away.

A quick look at my cell phone told me I had missed four calls from Holly. I sent her a text message telling her all was well and I would be there soon, though I knew she would worry until she actually saw me.

After a quick shower, I dressed. Although I rarely wore pants into the store, I decided I would on that day. They were a better choice for cleaning, and I wouldn't need to worry about covering the nonexistent wound on my leg.

In the midst of wrapping a string of amethyst around my neck, a thought struck me. I hadn't been wearing any gemstones when I went to the lake last night. So I hadn't been wearing any when Sophia and Shamus found me.

Insignificant to Shamus, but with people now living at Pine Ridge, I had best start wearing some jewels at night. Oddly, Sophia hadn't seemed to notice the difference. I mulled the thought over as I rushed out of the house.

The estate was several miles outside town. My store was in the town's small business district. I could ride the wind to get back and forth to the shop, but I drove my car to keep up appearances. Twenty minutes later, I parked in the public lot on Church Street, two blocks from the store.

I enjoyed the feel of the spring air on my skin as I crossed the road, hurrying down Church Street. As I passed Saint Francis Church I bowed my head to the holy presence there, as was my custom. When I rounded the corner to walk up Fifth Avenue a breeze brushed past me, flicking strands of my hair back away from my face.

Tressa's Treasures
was on the other side of the street, nestled between The
Apple Dumpling Café
and
JR's Bar and Grille
.

The storefront looked charming with its colonial door surround freshly painted a rich mahogany and the rich green, and a gold-lettered sign above. The sunlight touched the crystal displays in the window. It actually did make the store sparkle.

I stepped onto the macadam and moved across the road even as I looked to my right to check for approaching cars. I was already halfway to the other side when I turned to look to the left. Suddenly, the sun blinded me. I couldn't see if any cars were coming, though I heard no engine approaching.

Foolishly, I squinted and kept moving as I strained to see. Abruptly, the sound of screeching tires rapidly accelerating exploded from that direction. With a rush of adrenaline, I jumped the last two feet to the sidewalk to get out of the way. I whipped my head around to catch a glimpse of the vehicle as it sped past. For a mere second, Fred Moyer and I locked eyes. He smirked.

Had he really been trying to hit me? It would take more than a bit of aloe to recover from that.
I took several deep breaths to calm myself, watching his red Ford pickup round the corner at the end of the block. I felt profoundly grateful that sweet little Holly had finally gotten away from him.

Dismissing him from my thoughts, I continued on my way to the store. When I reached the door, I heard an unexpected sound: laughter. Holly was laughing.

Curious, I hurried in and stood in the doorway for a moment, appraising the scene before me.

Things appeared much changed from last evening. Most of the broken china and glass had been cleared away. A large cardboard box lined with a green plastic garbage bag sat on the floor serving as a garbage pail for the debris.

Holly, broom in hand, swept together the smaller pieces that lingered on the floor. Standing near her and getting ready to move what remained of the curio was Matt Johnson.

Holly dropped the broom handle against the checkout counter and hurried over to hug me. I held her at arm’s length so I could take a good look at her.

She looked her usual self. Her hair, perfectly styled, covered the stitches on her head. She wore a beautifully sculpted blue blouse over sleek black twill pants, no doubt purchased from one of the designer outlets nearby. Her makeup was flawless.

No one would imagine, just by looking at her, that she had suffered an attack less than twenty-four hours ago. My surprise melted into understanding: this is how her relationship with Fred had gone on so long without those of us closest to her suspecting abuse.

She spoke in a rush as I looked around.

"I'm so sorry I bothered your grandmother, but when you didn't show up and you didn't answer your phone, I was sure something awful had happened."

"Pix, you shouldn't worry so much. But I do apologize for oversleeping."

I looked at Matt, who appeared much more comfortable in the plaid shirt and jeans he was wearing than he had in a suit and tie.

"Mattie, what a nice surprise."

"Wow, no one's called me Mattie for years," he said, chuckling.

"That's our Tressa—a nickname for everyone," Holly laughed. "I suggest you let it go. She's been calling me Pix for two years now. There's no stopping her."

"Pix?" Matt looked at me quizzically.

I shrugged. "She reminds me of a Pixie."

"Like Tinkerbell, with the wings and the tiny dress? Yeah, I can see that."

Holly slapped his arm in mock outrage while he pretended to cower, a wide grin on his face.

I smiled but didn't respond. Actually, Holly's reddish- brown eyes reminded me of Brenna's, although Holly's were constantly on guard while Brenna's were full of mischief. Holly's petite and frail frame made her appear delicate and childlike—just like the Pixies.

"So, what brings you here today?" I asked Matt.

"Xander sent me. He had a class, so he told me my job this morning was to get this place back in shape."

"How nice of him."
Surprising of him.

"Can you believe Matt and I went to the same high school?" Holly interrupted. "We were just talking about the old days."

Her face lit up as she spoke. It had been a long time since I had seen Holly that animated.

The chimes over the door jingled. Ida Krauss, a tall woman in her sixties with a rather square and hefty figure, came in carrying a bakery box. Ida was the owner of the Café next door and a legendary baker.

"Good morning, Tressa. I saw you go by and thought I would bring you a treat."

She gave Matt a curious once over and looked at me expectantly. I introduced the two as she placed the box on the checkout counter. Holly eagerly opened the lid.

"Oh good! Shoofly pie," she said.

I met her eyes and smiled. This was Holly's personal favorite. I was very fond of sweets, especially chocolate, but I’d never really liked this particular pie. It wouldn't do to let Ida know that, since she was so proud of her baking. Long ago, Ida had come to the idea that the Shoofly pie was my favorite too, and we chose not to correct her.

"Come on, Ida, let's take this in the back and slice it up," Holly said. "Matt, you want a piece?"

"Thanks, but I better not. I've got a lunch in a few minutes."

He watched her leave the room with Ida by her side.

"You know, she doesn't remember me from high school," Matt said, "but I sure remember her. She was a year ahead of me and she was something else."

"Really? What was she like?"

"She was an angel. Everyone's dream girl. She was a cheerleader, homecoming queen, always the center of attention. But she wasn’t just popular—she was really sweet to everyone. Even a science geek like me." He smiled ruefully.

He hesitated then, as if not sure he should continue.

"She seems different now."

"She's still very sweet." Even as I defended her, I knew she wasn't the vibrant girl he had just described.

"She is, but subdued somehow. Her eyes are so sad." This was an unusual observation for a man, and completely true. "And she never used to wear so much makeup."

I chuckled. Now that sounded more typical, especially from a man who appreciates nature.

The other women returned, each holding a paper plate with a slice of pie. Holly perched on the stool behind the counter to eat hers. Ida handed me the other. I ate a forkful to be polite before setting the plate down on the counter.

The older woman made a show of looking over the broken display cabinet, which still lay on the floor. It wasn't much more than a wooden frame, now that the glass doors and sides had broken out.

Her investigation seemed to remind Matt of his purpose.

"Tressa, where should I put this?" he asked, righting the broken cabinet.

"Would you put it in the back of the storage room? Anywhere that's out of the way is fine." I would decide later if it was worth repairing.

He gripped it carefully so as not to cut his hands and slid it out of the room.

"Tressa, I hear you were the hero yesterday," Ida said.

"Oh? What did you hear?" I asked, stiffening with worry. This must be why she had come—to create drama. She would probably talk about this incident for days.

"I heard you stood up to Fred. It was about time someone did. And, oh dear, so much damage to your pretty little store," Ida said with undue sadness.

"It was nothing," I said, careful not to give her anything to add to her gossip.

Holly had flushed at Ida’s words. She dropped her plate of half-eaten pie onto the counter, grabbed the broom, and went back to brushing the glass and china fragments into the dustpan.

"We have it nearly all cleaned up," she said as she dumped the last bit of broken glass into the box.