Half Past Mourning (27 page)

Nina reached out and put her palm against Ron’s compact, muscular shoulder. “Maybe having Tinker here will help. He’s always been good around the shop.”

“Tinker!” Ron all but spat out the name. “Tinker Downs is an opportunistic little rat. Always has been. Takes advantage anytime he sees a hole he can creep into. I watch the till and the inventory every minute he’s around. I’ve just never trusted the kid, and I don’t see any reason to start now.” He shook off her hand and stalked out the door, leaving Nina startled by his response and afraid she’d hurt the feelings of an old friend. She’d never suspected Ron cared for her, that his friendly manner hid a deeper emotion.

I should have seen the signs long ago, I guess. If I’d realized how things were with him, I might have saved him these last painful moments.
I would have stopped him before he said all that.
After Ron’s revelations, moving on would be better for him. Nina knew she could never return his affections, and a continued association would be difficult for the man. A new place, new surroundings, and the care his parents needed would soon give him a different life.

Uncle Eldon must be around here somewhere. Maybe he and Tinker are up in the museum.
Nina picked up her bag and the box of cinnamon buns she’d brought from town and went to find her errant relative. She caught sight of Tinker coming at a lope across the parking lot.

“Hey, stranger, I haven’t seen you around here for a few days,” he called as he drew nearer.

“We’ve been running old rally directions to get Peter ready to navigate for me.” She glanced around. “Where’s my uncle hiding?” She held up the box of rolls. “I brought him his favorite indulgence.”

Tinker grinned, his black eyes bright with mischief. “Where else? He’s talking to a fella about a long lost car, a 1913 Helica, that somebody found in a barn in France. Your uncle is going to open negotiations if he can make sure it’s the real thing and find somebody to translate for him.”

Nina had to think a minute. “A Helica?” A vague memory stirred. “Oh, that plywood thing with the propeller on the front? Looked more like an airplane than a car? I thought those were long gone.”

A shock of Tinker’s jet hair fell across his eyes as he nodded. “That’s the car. Only about thirty ever made, and it would be pretty cool to have one of them right here.”

“Then I’m not going to wait for Uncle Eldon to come back to earth if he’s on the trail of a treasure.” She handed the box of rolls to the young man beside her. “You take them to him. He won’t know what he’s eating anyway, if he’s found some elusive toy for his collection.” She started to turn away, to head for her woody, when another tidbit crossed her memory. “And speaking of collecting things, I hear you’ve been adding a certain young lady to your assorted interests. A pretty blonde with a ponytail, I believe?”

A deep flush colored Tinker’s olive skin. “Aw, you don’t think she’s too good for me, do you, Nina? I mean, she’s going to college, and she’s planning to be a career woman, I know, but she’ll want to get married sometime, have a family, like anybody else. And I won’t be just a shade-tree mechanic all my life. Mr. Lassiter says he’ll help me get more schooling, maybe take business courses over at San Felipe, so I can be more help to him.” Tinker’s head tilted, his eyes still bright but with something wistful in their expression. “I know Buffy’s family won’t instantly think I’m the right guy for her, but if I show them I’m making something of myself maybe they won’t hold my past against me.”

Nina bit back her apprehension. The Michaels family, long-time pillars of Santa Rita, treasured their one daughter. How would they react to her interest in Tinker Downs, son of an alcoholic father and a mother who found companionship in passing truck drivers, assorted down-and-out rodeo bums, and traveling salesmen? Tinker, until he was taken in hand by Sheriff Hayes and Eldon Lassiter, had looked to be heading for an early date with the prison system. Not the match envisioned for a popular and gifted daughter, she was sure.

“I’m going to hope things work out right for you, Tinker. Buffy’s a beautiful girl, and she has a good head on her shoulders. But you’re both really young, and sometimes affections change as we get older. Don’t think you have to make lifelong decisions before you’ve been out in the world for a while. Take your time.”

Tinker gave her a half grin. “I’m willing to wait as long as it takes to convince her family I’m good enough for her. I have a lot to do, and Buffy’s still just a kid in a lot of ways. She hasn’t seen as much of the real world as I have. I can wait if I have somebody waiting for me, too.” He squared his shoulders and stood taller. “I want to give her the kind of life she’s always had, and that means I’ve got to make the most of every opportunity. Make the most of myself, anyway, and that’s what I plan to do.”

Nina went on her way, musing, half smiling, at the thought of Buffy Michaels, a princess if ever there was one, known for her pretty ways and her flamingo pink jeep, losing her heart to a boy from the wrong side of town with a talent for grease and gears. They were so young. Could they possibly make it work? If Uncle Eldon was willing to help Tinker, get him into college classes, teach him the business end of running the museum as well as the mechanics of restoring antique cars, maybe Tinker’s hopes weren’t too far out of reach. Then Ron’s words came back to her. “Tinker Downs is an opportunistic little rat. Always has been. Takes advantage anytime he sees a hole he can creep into. I’ve never trusted him.”

Has Tinker found an opportunity? Is he taking advantage of both Uncle Eldon and that sweet girl? Ron’s been around him for a long time, and he’s seen sides of Tinker that I never have. He doesn’t want to see Tinker take over at the museum. Says we can’t trust Tinker. I have to weigh that, because it would be to Ron’s advantage if Tinker could take over. Ron could go on and be with his parents without being concerned about Uncle Eldon. But he doesn’t want to do that. So Tinker may have a dark side that I don’t recognize. I can’t trust my own instincts. Look how wrong I was about Danny.

****

Nina was still unsettled about the possibility of Tinker taking charge at the museum as she parked Woody in front of the fabric shop near the courthouse. Miss Dee, the proprietor, waved at her through the display windows, gesturing for Nina to enter the shop.

“I have it all ready for you, child, and it’s going to look wonderful on you. Come on back and let’s try it on.” Miss Dee barely gave Nina time to get inside before she pulled a zippered garment bag from a rack behind the counter. “You have just the figure to wear it, too. Slender and straight, the way we dreamed of being when I was a girl.”

Nina followed the shopkeeper through the curtains to the workshop area beyond the bolts of fabric on display. “I hope I didn’t rush you, Miss Dee, but I couldn’t find a thing that looked right.”

“Oh, stuff and nonsense, Nina. I could run up one of these little flapper dresses in my sleep. It’s all in the cut, you see. Not so much sewing to it once you get the pieces cut.” She unfastened the bag and lifted out the slim little frock inside. “Here, go slip it on and let’s see how it looks.”

Taking the garment from the older woman, Nina whirled into a closed dressing room and fastened the dress hanger over a filigree hook. The airy voile dress, more of a slip, actually, whispered as she stepped out of her cotton skirt and blouse and let the sheer mist of the handkerchief hem float around her. Sleeveless, with a slightly cowled neckline, the dress was as cool as a waterfall and mimicked the colors, as well. Aqua, misty blue, and a hint of clear green swirled in the thin fabric.

“How is it, Nina? Do you need help?” The voice on the other side of the door sounded worried.

“Perfect, Miss Dee, it’s just perfect. But I don’t think I know how to do the sash. It’s huge around my waist.”

“No, no, dear, the sash goes around the hips. A flapper dress didn’t have a true waist. It dropped down. That’s what gives it the Twenties look. Come out and let me help you.”

Nina emerged from the dressing room to stand in front of the three-way mirror in Miss Dee’s workroom. She had to giggle at the figure in the glass. She’d envied her female friends who were blessed with more curves in their figures than nature had given her. Not one of them had the slim, boyish lines necessary to wear the wisp of a dress Miss Dee had created. The irregular hem made a show of her slender legs, and the straight lines of the bodice clung closely to her athletic body. Miss Dee took the length of aqua crepe and looped it around Nina’s hips, then fashioned it into a flat bow that finished the vintage look.

“I just love it, Miss Dee. It’s so cool and easy to wear. No petticoats, no cinched waist, and best of all, I can feel the breeze through it.”

“You look exactly right in it, too, Nina. You just need a pair of T-strap pumps, a little cloche hat, and maybe a long string of pretty beads to finish the outfit. If you can get your hair to make tight little curls close to your head, you’ll have the whole look.”

Thinking of the trouble she had making her hair do anything but curl gave Nina another chuckle. “I think I can manage the hair and shoes, but I don’t know about a hat. And I hate wearing them. I could just skip that part, couldn’t I?”

“You could. I suppose you might just wear a band around your forehead. Use a ribbon in one of the colors of the dress. That would be authentic.”

“Cooler than a hat, too,” Nina added. “I’m going to be cooler than my navigator, anyway. He’s stuck with all the guy things—long pants, a shirt, probably a coat. And a tie. Just thinking about it makes me hot and sticky.”

Miss Dee smiled. “Your navigator, as you call him, is that nice professor over at the college, isn’t he? Tall fellow with auburn hair? I’ve seen him around town with you from time to time. Met him coming out of the post office one morning.”

“Yes, that’s Peter Shayne. Uncle Eldon’s been giving him some of the finer points of driving a sports car, and he got so interested that I invited him to come along on the rally.”

“You tell him for me he’s got the prettiest driver in the race.” Miss Dee tucked the watercolor dress back into its garment bag and carried it to the cash register at the front of the shop. Nina paid for her dress, and as she was putting her change away, Miss Dee added one more detail to her instructions for wearing the dress.

“You must remember to roll your stockings below your knees, too, Nina. No garter belts or anything like that. We wore garters, but as soon as we left the house and got where Papa couldn’t see us, we rolled our stockings down and rouged our knees. Tucked our lipstick and cigarettes into our garters. Papa never caught us painting our faces or smoking, either. Be sure you do it right.”

Still chuckling over Miss Dee’s explicit instructions, Nina tucked her new dress into the car and turned toward home. July heat beat in through the open windows and shimmered on the pavement. Her cotton blouse felt glued to her shoulders and the print skirt that had been crisp and fresh that morning fell in limp folds. A pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt would make a new woman of her, Nina told herself, ignoring all other errands to get on home and out of the blast furnace of summer. Thoughts of iced tea and a cool shower kept interrupting her concentration. Fortunately, little traffic crossed her road home. She eased into the turning lane, heat bearing down on her, and stopped at the only light in town. The light changed, and with relief Nina turned onto her own street and the shade overarching trees gave to her quiet neighborhood. Her relief faded as she noticed another car waited in the driveway beside her house.

“Marigold!” Nina felt her vision of a cool shower and a glass of iced tea vanish the moment she recognized the sleek lines of Marigold’s Cadillac. “About the last person I want to see today.”

Steeling herself for yet another awkward and painful encounter, Nina parked in the street before the pretty orchid house she’d lived in all her life. The pavement seemed to melt through her sandals as she slid from the front seat of the car. Her dress bag making an unwieldy addition to her purse, Nina fumbled for her house keys as her mother-in-law crossed the lawn and followed her up the steps.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long, Marigold,” she said holding the door open for the older woman to enter.

“Long enough,” she answered. “I don’t know what you find to do that keeps you away from the house hours and hours every day. I call, but I never find you at home, so I decided I’d just come over and wait till you got around to coming back.” She looked around the room. “Where’s that wretched cat? I won’t have him in here while I’m here. I think he works at leaving cat hair on anything I have on.”

Grinning, and certain Sinbad did exactly that, Nina gestured toward the open window. “He’s not inside, Marigold. He’s probably out under a nice cool tree somewhere. Your skirts are safe from him for the moment.”

Marigold surveyed the available chairs with a disdainful, lifted eyebrow, then selected the larger club chair beside the window and sat down, her rose skirts rustling as she sank into the cushions.

“I was going to have some iced tea, Marigold. Would you like some?”

“If you have lemon and it’s not sweet tea. I can’t abide sugar in my tea.”

“Unsweet and with lemon,” Nina assured her and ducked into the kitchen. “I didn’t realize you’d been trying to reach me. Is something wrong? Can I help you in some way?” She emerged with a tray and tall glasses filled with ice. “Let me get the pitcher.”

A minute later they sat, a small breeze lifting the curtains behind them, with chilled glasses in hand. Marigold had said nothing, given no hint about the reason for her visit, and Nina was at a loss for anything to say. Small talk with Marigold had always been difficult. At last her mother-in-law put her glass precisely into its coaster, crossed her ankles, and turned to Nina.