Page 54

His face fell. “Just fine? That’s all you can say?”
“I need a nap.” I flung myself onto the couch.
Peter’s scolding face faded to black. During my nap, a vivid dream came to me. Liam was sitting on a chair, lit by a beam of sunlight, playing a haunting melody on his fiddle. In the unaccountable way of dreams, I knew that the lovely tune was for me.
I woke up smiling, with Enid’s big blue eyes right in my face. She was kneeling by the couch, waving a cup of coffee under my nose. I struggled into a sitting position and grabbed the coffee. “Thanks, Enid.”
Peter walked in. “Sorry to drag you back to the real world, but it’s after eight o’clock, and you’ll have to move your butt to get those liner notes reformatted before we head over to meet with Shepard.”
A familiar pressure settled on my chest—and I thought about the dream. The sweet melody, still echoing in my head. The painful pressure lightened like magic.
This was not life or death. The liner notes, the meeting—they were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Close encounters with sex and death did wonders to reorder a woman’s priorities. I took a leisurely sip of coffee. “No,” I said.
Peter and Enid exchanged alarmed glances. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” Peter asked.
“You and Enid can move your butts, not me. The liner notes are no longer my problem.”
Peter’s face went blank. “The hell they’re not! What are you talking about? You said yourself that we have to deliver the layout to Shepard this morning, and if we miss the catalog deadline?—”
“You, Peter. Not we. I’ve revised those notes three times. The thumb drive is in my purse.” I fished it out and handed it to him. “Go ahead. Change it on your own computer, if you like. Deliver it to Shepard yourself. I can’t make that meeting today.”
“Are you nuts?” Peter looked horrified. “Nance, I don’t do desktop publishing. I’m an artist, not a secretary.”
“You could leave the album order as it is, if you get desperate,” I suggested.
“You’re not coming with us?” Enid’s limpid blue eyes widened with outrage, to the point of bulging, I noticed. “What’s gotten into you? What are we supposed to say to Shepard when you don’t show?”
“Deal with it. Call and reschedule, if you don’t want to go see him without me. Tell him that I’m having personal problems. God knows it’s true enough.”
“What personal problems could be more important than?—”
“Masked kidnappers, Enid.” I made my voice hard. “For starters. To say nothing of my mother dying in a home invasion a few days ago.”
“We were very sympathetic about Lucia, Nance,” Enid said, sounding wounded.
“So you don’t even care if the album gets into the catalog, then?”
“Of course I care. But I’m also tired. I’m done pulling rabbits out of hats for you. Peter, get your shoes on. You have to come back with me to my apartment. Right now.”
“Now? Why? Don’t be ridic?—”
“You owe me.” My voice was steely. “I work my ass off for you guys, and I almost got killed last night. I’m still shaky. I promised a friend that I would organize to have company for everywhere I go, and I mean to keep that promise. Which means you’re up to bat, buddy.”
“Your timing is absolutely?—”
“I also need some help getting Moxie’s pet carrier loaded into the car. I’m going up to Latham for a while. I’m not sure for how long yet.”
Enid and Peter exchanged horrified glances.
“Latham?” Peter’s voice cracked. “Now? But tonight’s the gig at the Bottom Line with Brigid McKeon! Plus the Shepard meeting, the liner notes, and we’re going on tour in two weeks, and The FolkWorld Conference is coming up!”
“Latham’s not far,” I assured him, patting his shoulder. I pulled up my favorite car service on my phone and texted my request for a car. “I’ll be in touch. Most of my business is conducted on the phone anyway, so why not do it from Latham?”
Peter accompanied me down to the car I had ordered, with bad grace, but I ignored his fierce sulking. It was turning into a beautiful morning. A brisk wind made the bits of garbage dance and swirl cheerfully over sidewalk grates.
Peter stared stonily out the window as the car service took us back to Avenue B. Peter usually required a lot of attention, but he wasn’t getting any from me today. I wouldn’t be capable of giving it to him if I wanted to.
Today, I couldn’t be bothered. After last night, I felt light, fizzy, floating.