Page 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

W hit’s eyes widened as he stared down at his phone. His mom had just ignored his call. In his living memory, he couldn’t think of a time his mother had done such a thing. His stomach twisted. I’ll go see her tonight.

To keep his mind off something he couldn’t change at the moment, he threw himself into work. He had a stack of bills to pay and a workshop bench full of items to research and price.

He was using his magic to feel out a Japanese tea cup—tears streaming from his eyes as he shook with the terror and suffering the previous owner felt as the atomic bomb was dropped on the nation—when the door chimed.

He opened his mouth to call that he would be right out, but his voice had no sound. He placed the delicate cup back in its saucer, wiped his face with his hands, and cleared his throat before standing from his stool.

Though still shaken from the emotions of someone long dead, he forced a polite smile as he returned to the main shop.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted his customer, who was waiting at the counter with her back to him.

She turned at his voice, and he clamped down on a reflexive groan.

“Good afternoon, Whit,” Luisa Ornett returned in that suggestive way she always used when she spoke to him. “I’ve brought you something I know you won’t be able to resist.”

Whit suppressed a sigh as he approached the counter where the ordinary waited, leaning forward to display what else she had to offer. The fact was that she usually did sell him good stuff, so even though he wasn’t interested in everything she wanted to give him, he usually bought her garage sale finds.

Coming around the counter, Whit beheld a transparent yellow compote dish with inlaid facets and scalloped edges. He knew right away from the color that it was uranium glass.

“Where did you find it?” Whit asked, carefully taking off the lid and examining it for damage.

Uranium glass was all the rage at the moment. He had collectors come in nearly every other day. He’d even put UV lights in a china cabinet to show it off.

“Oh, just a garage sale I happened upon while I was driving home from work last week. I thought of you when I saw it.”

Whit didn’t bother to look at her, keeping his eyes on the dish.

“And how much are you asking for?” he said.

“I’ll tell you what”—Luisa stood on her toes and rested her elbows on the counter, leaning toward him—“I’ll give it to you for free if you take me out tonight.”

Whit eyed Luisa with a frown. The dish she’d brought him was indeed unusual, and even without research, he thought he could get a couple hundred dollars for it. For the last year or so, Luisa had been coming in to his shop and making passes at him. Though this was the first time she’d outright asked him on a date, he wasn’t so oblivious as to not know what she’d wanted the whole time. And it wasn’t that she was unattractive. She was perfectly good looking. She seemed nice, if a little forward.

But still, he’d never considered the thought of being with her for more than a moment. She was an ordinary. He’d been on dates with ordinaries before. No, it was more than that. She, like all women, just seemed like a lot of work to him. Romantic relationships were a lot of work. It just never seemed worth it. For what? A night’s passion? Oh, it would feel good—great, in fact—but would it be worth the emotional fallout? Sex was never just sex.

“Will forty dollars do, then?” Whit asked Luisa. “That’s about what I would spend if we went out to dinner.”

Luisa pouted her lips. “I wanted your time, not your money. Why? Do you have plans tonight?”

Finally, Whit met and held the woman’s gaze. “I do. I’m going home to have dinner with my wife.”

Luisa’s eyes popped. “Your wife ? Since when are you married?” Her eyes shifted to his left hand. “You’ve never worn a wedding ring before today.”

Whit smiled warmly. “That’s because I was only married last week.”

Luisa blew out a heavy breath, her bangs fluttering as she did so. “Well, that explains a lot,” she muttered.

Then she cocked her hip, placing one fist on it. “You should have just told me you were involved. I don’t hit on taken men. I’ve a mind to tell your new wife that you don’t shut women down right away.”

Whit doubted that Clover would much care. He frowned at the thought.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t like that, would you, mister?” Luisa said, mistaking his expression. “You better get your act together and treat her right.”

Whit blinked at how quickly the situation had turned. He nearly laughed at Luisa’s absurdity. “I’ll be sure to do that,” he responded dryly.

Luisa analyzed him, then nodded firmly once. “Good. So back to the dish, I haggled the seller down; forty should be fine.”

Whit opened his cash register to pay her. As he handed her the bills, he said, “I hope this news won’t stop you from bringing me your finds.”

Luisa smiled. “Of course not. Even if you belong to someone else, you’re still pretty to look at. Besides, you give me a better price than the other dealers in town. See you around.”

Stuffing the money into the pocket of her skin-tight jeans, Luisa swished her hips as she went to the door.

Belong to someone else, huh? The phrasing hit his mind in a particular way. I suppose it is true in a way. We’re bound together if nothing else.

Whit wondered what it meant to belong to someone. Did that make him Clover’s responsibility? What part of him? Conversely, did that mean Clover belonged to him as well? He didn’t like the idea of having to take responsibility for someone else.

Clover is a grown woman. Surely, she doesn’t need anyone to take responsibility for her. He nodded to himself, staring into the yellow glass of the compote in front of him. I just need to be a good housemate and a good friend. The promises I made were nothing beyond what friendship would entail.