Page 21 of Welcome to Gothic
Minnie was not known to be fond of children.
Which sent Wendy back to being anxious. “Are you sure? You’re willing to do that? Because you don’t have to—”
Wendy didn’t know what kind of signal passed between the sisters, but Minnie stepped right up to the plate with an apparently sincere, “We’re delighted, and we close at six anyway. We can put the props into the bags, too. It’ll save us from another evening’s showing of Mabel’s favorite series,Good Omens.” Her voice contained all the elements of deep loathing.
“Thanks. That is great because I am so late. This took longer than I expected, and I need to get back to my studio and get ready for my next class...” A poster caught Wendy’s eye. One of the really old, faded ones, preserved in a frame behind a glass. She paced slowly toward it.
There he was. Hugh Capel, in a suit and tie, his intent face superimposed on a desert background. Not a jungle. A desert.
Wendy stared, soaking up the sight of him. She told herself she hadn’t noticed this poster before, but her subconscious had been on the job and that was why she’d dreamed him.
Hugh.
Hugh, alive, strong, vital.
Hugh, catching her as she swung down to him and recognizing her as his mate.
Hugh, broken and shattered by a bullet, killed for his part in saving a child from treachery.
Wendy jumped when Minnie spoke beside her. “I’m not surprised he caught your eye. Have you seen his old movies? He had a magnetism about him.”
“No, I never... What happened to him?”
“Don’t you know?” Minnie sounded astonished.
On the other side of Wendy, Mabel spoke. “No, dear, why would she?”
“Right. Well...” Minnie stared at the poster as if saddened. “He saved Maeve Lindholm’s two-year-old daughter from a kidnapper, and the kidnapper killed Hugh. Shot him. His career was headed to the tip-top. They called him the next Cary Grant... such a tragedy.”
“There was a woman who helped him,” Mabel said. “Gossip said it was love at first sight, but after he died she disappeared. The histories don’t tell what happened to her.”
How did a woman come back to dull reality when, in another life, she had found her soul mate? How did she pretend her heart was whole when for a brief moment, a man appeared who recognized who she was and what she wanted, and wanted that with her?
“I imagine,” Wendy said, “she went back to work and lived her life and tried not to think about what she’d lost.”
That was what she intended to do.
Chapter Eleven
Wendy watched her class of karate kids kick their way across her studio, and ignored Ariel MacLean when she stepped close enough to say, “Wendy, you’ve got that look.”
“What look?” Wendy said, deadpan.
“Like the dog who stole the ham off the Easter table and is waiting for all hell to break loose.” Ariel adjusted her ever-present leather shoulder bag.
“Hmm?”
“Forget that innocent expression. I’ve got three kids, and I’ve been to your parties before.” Ariel turned to her husband, county sheriff’s department deputy Dave MacLean, known across the county as Deputy Dave, and a good guy. “Whatever it is she’s cooking up, it’s your turn to be guinea pig.”
Deputy Dave wore street clothes, and his service weapon was nowhere in sight. He looked like the other dads when he said hopefully, “Maybe this time parents won’t be involved.”
Ariel snorted.
Wendy rubbed her palms together. “Deputy Dave will be perfect.”
The prospect of a party filled the karate students with extra energy, and that kept Wendy happy and distracted. She wasn’t heartbroken, not close to tears; she was simply still fighting the results of what had probably been a concussion. If this prickly sense of fear and anticipation didn’t ease soon, she would make an appointment to have her head examined... in every way possible.
In the last ten minutes of class, parents began to trickle in; the ones who were familiar with Wendy’s idea of fun wore puckish expressions, and the new parents picked up on the atmosphere and glanced around warily.
