Water to Burn (16 page)

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Authors: Katharine Kerr

BOOK: Water to Burn
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“I sure do. He’s too used to storming around in charge of everything, flinging orders right and left.”
Jack laughed again. “That’s it, yeah. Well, come on in. Everyone’s out back.”
The house metaphorically smelled of money, with its hardwood floors, Persian rugs, wood paneling, antique furniture, and original paintings by American Impressionists. It also literally smelled like cat boxes, no matter how often Kathleen and her housekeeper changed them. Kathleen had acquired two more strays, bringing her cat collection up to twenty. We tromped down the long hallway in a cloud of scattering felines, some diving into side rooms, others darting up the long staircase to the second floor. While they could go outside at will, in chilly weather they stuck to the central heating.
“Out back” at the Donovan house was not your usual backyard. Kathleen loved to swim, she loved to cook, and she loved to be outside. Jack had accommodated these three loves with a fifty-foot-long swimming pool and its surroundings. Off to the left side stood the cabaña, as they called it, which was actually a small cottage with a bathroom and all the necessaries. To the right stood what amounted to an outdoor kitchen, with a gas-powered grill and a portable bar and refrigerator unit powered by electricity from underground cables. Fruit trees, shrubs, and flowers grew thick and lush all around.
Kathleen herself was standing by the pool. She was wearing a pair of cut-off jeans over a modest tank suit in a light blue that set off her dark blue eyes. She’d pulled her long black hair back into a single braid, and she wore no makeup, a stark style that on her looked gorgeous. She trotted over to join us, followed by a small mob of mutts. We hugged.
“I was just going to get the guys inside,” she said with a wave at the dogs, who swarmed around her like surf around a rock. “And I guess I’d better get dressed.”
“Are you cooking tonight?” I said.
“Nah, I hired the usual caterers. They should be here any minute.”
“I’ll go wait on the front porch,” Jack said. “Let ’em in and all that. Besides, I left my beer out there.”
He strode off before Kathleen could even agree. I glanced her way and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged with a faint look of disgust.
“I invited a lot of people, not just Caleb,” Kathleen said to Ari. “So he’ll be distracted, and we can snag his drinking glass or something.”
“That would do,” Ari said. “But why don’t you just leave the matter to me?”
“Okay, I’ll be glad to.” She glanced around. “I’m keeping watch for Jack. He’d be furious if he knew.”
“Nola tells me he’s afraid of this person. He doesn’t look like the sort of man who scares easily.”
“He isn’t, or he wouldn’t have married me.” She grinned at him. “The family, y’know?”
“I happen to like your family.”
Kathleen’s expression turned beatific, much like Aunt Eileen in a matchmaking mood. She patted Ari’s arm. “I’m so glad Nola found you.”
The dogs in the pack began to whine and shove each other. A golden retriever yawned and snapped. One of the Dobermans started sniffing Kathleen’s bare leg. She kicked him, just lightly, and made him back off.
“I’ll get them inside,” Kathleen said. “Oh, and Ari? Thank you.”
Kathleen rounded up her pack and began shepherding them toward the house. I noticed Woofie Five, gray, fat, and whiskery, bouncing along behind the big dogs on his short little legs.
“That’s the dog that bit Jack’s business partner,” I said to Ari.
“Evil-looking creature,” Ari said.
With the dogs stowed, Kathleen reappeared wearing a Jean Paul Gaultier dress in a subdued tropical print—but an original, not one of the department store numbers—over her bathing suit, though she had, mercifully, taken off the cut-off jeans. She’d unbound her hair and let it fall uncombed and wavy down her back. Since we stood a good distance away, Ari stared at her. Men always did, and I tried to ignore my burning jealousy.
“Your sister,” Ari said, “is really peculiar. Sorry if that’s offensive, but she is.”
The jealousy cooled off and died. “We’re all really peculiar,” I said. “That includes you.”
“I’d never deny it.”
The caterers, Maria Elena and her husband, Diego, arrived soon after, both dressed in spotless white. They brought with them helpers, a parade of boxes of food and liquor, bottles of mineral water, and several enormous jugs of orangeade. While this culinary mob set up a long buffet table near the cabaña, Jack hovered nearby with a bottle of beer in his hand. A few at a time, the other guests began to arrive, about twenty adults in all, couples with young children, mostly. The kids hit the buffet like locusts while parents fussed and kept up a running chatter of “say please, don’t grab, say thank you.”
When the kids gravitated toward the pool, Jack changed into baggy swim trunks and an undershirt to play lifeguard for the evening, a maneuver that let the other adults circulate, drink, and eat in relative peace. It also saved him from having to make casual conversation, which he hated doing.
“I thought kids weren’t supposed to swim so soon after eating,” I said to Kathleen. “That’s what Dad always told us, anyway.”
“I remember, yeah,” Kathleen said. “But all that’s changed. I guess it never really mattered, according to the doctors.”
The cool night began to darken the sky. Jack got out of the water long enough to put on the outdoor lighting, including the lights housed inside the rim of the pool. The water turned into liquid turquoise—a seething mass of liquid turquoise with the kids jumping and splashing. Kathleen began glancing around and biting her lower lip.
“I don’t see you know who,” she whispered. “I hope the little jerk gets here.”
One of Maria Elena’s helpers, a girl of maybe sixteen, came trotting over to announce that the caterers needed Kathleen’s instructions about the arcane matter of reheating chiles rellenos. Kathleen hurried off just as Caleb arrived. I spotted a man answering his description moving through the crowd, mostly men, around the bar. A quick check showed me the disciplined aura of a person who’s learned to control his natural talents.
“That’s got to be him,” I said to Ari.
Ari considered the distant Caleb. “I’ll have a closer look,” he said. “Do you want some food? No, of course you don’t. Why do I ask? I do, however, and I’m going to go over to the buffet.”
“Well, if there’s salad—”
“Salad’s not enough. You’re not a leaf-eating chimpanzee.”
On this wave of impeccable logic, Ari strode away. I stuck my tongue out at his retreating back. As I waited, I began to feel someone watching me, though no SAWM or ASTA went off in my brain. The natural suspect, Caleb, was sipping a drink and talking with Kathleen some distance away. He had his back toward me.
I turned around and saw a little girl of about five, with blonde curls and big blue eyes, dressed in a dripping wet pink bathing suit. She stood with her hands on her hips, studying me.
“Do you have worms?” she said.
“Say what?” I said.
“You’re so skinny. We went to Mexico, and my aunt ate some bad candy, and she got worms. And she got skinny, and she kept getting skinnier and skinnier until the doctor killed them. The worms, I mean. With pills.”
I gaped. A woman in a pale green dress spun around and shrieked, “Daphne! What are you asking the nice lady?”
“Does she have worms?” Daphne said.
“Ohmigawd!” The woman, whom I assumed was Daphne’s mom, grabbed the child’s arm. “Don’t say things like that!” She looked up at me with eyes filled with honest anguish. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Not a problem.”
The woman groaned and dragged the protesting Daphne away. I remembered the Goddess Venus saying, “Get a better mirror.” Not all mirrors are made of glass. Maybe, I decided, I could eat a little more, just now and then.
I started toward the buffet, but Kathleen strolled over, Caleb in tow. She introduced us, then announced that she had to discuss dessert with the caterers and hurried off again. Caleb and I stood near the pool and smiled the moronic smiles of people who have just met at a noisy party.
Kathleen’s earlier description of Caleb—short, pudgy, smells bad—did not predispose me to think highly of him. In person, however, he turned out to be maybe 5’9”, a few pounds heavy around the middle, and scented with muskand-ginger aftershave. Facially he was good-looking, with humorous eyes and a tan; overall, I found myself thinking of William Shatner in
Star Trek
’s first TV season, not that I have any idea of how Captain Kirk smelled.
I was also positive I’d seen him before. I just couldn’t place where. I did know I’d merely glimpsed him from a distance, but that I’d seen him at all struck me as important. For a few minutes we watched Jack teaching one of the younger kids how to float on his back. Caleb allowed as how he was impressed.
“He’s got more patience with kids than I ever will.” His voice, while light, certainly didn’t squeak in the upper register, but he had the New England “havahd yahd” accent, all right. “Sometimes I think he should teach school.”
“Yeah, I’ve had that thought, too.”
I smiled; he smiled and moved a step closer. He glanced away, but I felt the touch of his mind on mine—an SPP. He had talents, then, just as I’d suspected. I refrained from defending or answering, and in a few seconds the touch vanished. Let him wonder, I figured, about any talents I might have.
“Jack must have told you,” Caleb said, “that we’ve got a business venture going.”
“Kathleen mentioned it, actually.”
“I know she doesn’t approve, so you don’t have to be polite about it. Do you think Drake’s treasure is just a myth?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “He had one, yes, but I believe he gave it all to the queen of England, so no, I don’t think any of it’s still around here.”
“Well, that’s what the academic establishment wants us to believe. They can’t think outside the box, and they’re too damn lazy to change their lecture notes when new information comes along.”
I had no idea of how to respond to that. I was saved when a woman called my name from across the babbling sea of guests.
“Nola! Is that really you?”
I looked and saw Mira Rosen, an old friend of mine from college. She’d gotten her M.S. in psych at the same time as I’d finished mine. I waved madly and yelled back, “It is! How cool to see you!” I turned to Caleb. “Excuse me. Someone I haven’t seen in years.”
He nodded and headed in the direction of the bar. I made my way through the chattering partygoers toward Mira, who waddled her way toward me. She stood about five foot one and normally barely topped a hundred pounds, but that night she was vastly pregnant. Her belly hung over her blue maternity shorts; her navel peered out from under her white maternity top.
“Good grief,” I said, “are there twins in there?”
“No, only one,” Mira said. “I bet it’s a boy. I wouldn’t let them tell me, after the sonogram, you know, but I’d bet anything it’s some hulking brute of a boy child.”
“I heard you and David got married last year, but I didn’t know you guys had already decided to reproduce.”
“I blame my husband. All his idea. I had nothing to do with it, nothing, I tell you!”
We shared a laugh. Mira paused to swig from the bottle of mineral water she was carrying. “Kathleen told me you were back,” she said. “What’s this about a steady boyfriend?”
“He’s around here somewhere.” I paused to survey the crowd and saw Ari talking with the bartender over at the portable bar. When Caleb came up beside him, Ari walked away.
“Over there.” I pointed. “The dark-haired one. We just got a place together.”
“Ooh. Good-looking! But I bet he’s got issues.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The way he moves, like he’s ready to spring on his prey. And a cop, Kathleen says?”
“With Interpol, yeah.” I wished that Kathleen had kept her mouth shut about that aspect of Ari’s personality. I didn’t want Caleb putting up his guard. “So what’s going on with you besides the baby? Are you going to go back to work?”
“You bet. I didn’t suffer to get that damned degree for nothing. I’ve got an arrangement with another therapist. He’ll be on emergency call for my clients for three months, and I’ll do the same for his when he goes to Europe this summer.” She made a wry face. “I’m thinking of going back for the doctorate, though. I really want to work with autistic adults.”
“Why the adults?”
“Because that’s where the challenge is. These days a lot of people are working with the children. I’ve heard fellow professionals tell me that if you don’t get them young, there’s no hope. I don’t give up on people that easy, thank you very much.”
“I’ve never known you to, that’s for sure.”
“You know, that kind of work is something you’d be real good at.”
“Oh, come on, I don’t think so.”
“Consider your family. You grew up learning how to take care of really annoying people.”

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