“Wait a minute.” I stepped closer to the corner and looked up. “There’s a spider in there. It’s huge.” I backed quickly away and handed Pan the duster. “Get it.”
He handed it back. “You get it.”
“One of you twits better get it.” Glory came up behind us, having silently descended the staircase on bare feet. She was wearing an emerald satin robe over matching pyjamas and looked better with tangled hair and half-awake eyes than I did after my forbidden sojourn in her guest shower.
“That would be you, Bliss,” she said, in case I had forgotten my place. She looked me up and down but didn’t comment on my wet hair or squeaky-clean complexion. I probably even smelled expensive, thanks to her complimentary skin care products. “By the time you leave, there better not be any spiderwebs in this house.”
She turned sleepy eyes on Pan, whose cheeks were bulging with the last of his breakfast. “Is my coffee ready, Pan?”
“Right away, Miss.”
Pan sprinted to the kitchen. He better have his mistress’s coffee poured and delivered to the breakfast room by the time she got there. Until her eyes were fully open, Glory wasn’t able to drill holes in your brain with them, so I turned into a cleaning machine to get as much done as possible before she swallowed the last of her second cup of caffeine.
Even with the pole attached, the duster didn’t reach the ceiling. I leaped at the corner, lunging and thrusting, until the web was dispatched. I lost the spider, but didn’t pursue him. Four hours later, I was done.
Glory’s castle was web-free and gleaming. Even the magazines in the sitting room were stacked with meticulous care. I managed not to run into Glory again, but found my pay on the antique buffet in the foyer.
Pan accompanied me to the greenhouse to snap pictures of Sif. The pot plants drooped under the weight of their buds and, in an opposite corner, the Berg bamboo stood stiff and lonely. Something about that bamboo almost triggered a thought, but it slipped away and I didn’t have time to think about it.
On the curb beside my Savage, I took out my phone and checked it. And sighed. Dougal had left four messages. He started yelling the second he picked up.
“Bliss! Where are you now? You didn’t report in this morning, and it’s critical you stay in touch. I haven’t heard from you since yesterday.”
“I just took some pictures but can’t get them over to you until I’m through at Fern Brickle’s. Sorry, but I can’t spare the time. I’m due there now.”
“Bliss, get your ass—”
I hung up on him and swung my leg over the seat.
It took me less than a minute to reach Fern Brickle’s bungalow. She greeted me at the door dressed in Capri-length leggings and a long v-necked tee-shirt in turquoise. Silver hair flowed to her shoulders, the layers cut with precision and style. As always, she wore lipstick and eyeshadow in glossy pastels. If you didn’t know she was seventy-eight, you would take her for sixty, tops.
“Bliss, my dear. Come in. You’re looking very nice today. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Brickle. You look great, as usual.”
The joints in Fern’s hands were swollen and misshapen. Rheumatoid arthritis had taken its toll, and I often wondered how Fern was able to comb her hair or put her makeup on, let alone dress or make a meal. But she managed, and never complained. Her only concession to the disease was someone to clean her house for her.
“Where do you want me to start, Mrs. Brickle?”
“About that, Bliss. We’ll have to do things a little differently today, if you don’t mind. You may not know, but I usually have my friends over for a dessert party every Thursday afternoon. Well, for reasons that won’t matter to you, I am hosting it this afternoon instead. Everyone will be here at one o’clock, so if you would just clean the guest bathroom and run the vacuum cleaner over the living room rug, I’ll pay you as usual, and you can do a more thorough job next week.”
I whizzed through the bathroom, wanting to ask Fern if she needed help dressing, but knowing the offer would not be accepted. The bathroom done, I went to the kitchen pantry where the vacuum cleaner was stored. With my hand on the doorknob, I paused, my head turning to stare at the counter.
A glass plate was heaped high with chocolate squares, so rich and gooey that the pile almost looked like a pyramid-shaped cake. The icing ran off the tops of the squares and drizzled down the sides. My stomach gave an angry growl. It would no longer be denied.
I looked around and listened. The only sound came from the ticking grandfather clock in the dining room.
I considered the plate of chocolate squares. I didn’t see how it could be done. If I took the top one, its absence would be immediately apparent. And if I took one out of the middle section, or the bottom layer, the whole structure might collapse.
I licked my bottom lip and reached out. Before I could stop myself, a delicious morsel was in my mouth, plucked from the bottom. My eyes closed in wanton ecstasy.
I hadn’t had sex in so long, I didn’t even miss it anymore. Not until that moment, the moment when the piece of chocolate heaven entered my mouth and melted on my tongue. Then, I remembered what it had been like when Mike and I were still in love and could hardly wait for class to be over and we were alone, our hands ripping away clothes and our …
But, given a choice between that moment and this one, I’d have to say, give me another hunk of chocolate square.
Another piece followed the first, just as wonderful. But the pyramid was listing a little to one side, so I turned the plate around and carefully extracted a square from the opposite side. I popped that one into my mouth and chewed more slowly. What was that, three?
The pile was still a little lopsided. I was unsure how to straighten it out. Fern would notice if I kept eating her dessert. But, maybe just one more piece from this side and everything would be even again.
Just as that square was about to follow the first three, I heard Fern’s voice.
“Bliss? How are you coming along, dear?”
There was a box of plastic wrap sitting beside the pile of treats. Not wanting to be caught with my mouth full, I quickly tore off a strip of the wrap and wound it around the square. My overalls had a handy chest pocket, and, in no time at all, the little parcel was out of sight. By the time Fern reached the living room, I was plugging in the vacuum cleaner. I was a little worried about the leaning tower of chocolate squares in the kitchen, but I didn’t think Fern would begrudge me a wee snack if she knew.
And the chocolate was just what I needed. As I finished up the vacuuming, I was feeling great, stronger than I had in days. Sure, it was just a sugar high, but it would keep me going until I could get some lunch at Dougal’s when I dropped off the pictures. He would be really glad to see me, so much earlier than he expected. And I was looking forward to seeing Thor. I really missed that plant.
Fern was wearing to-die-for jeans and a beaded tunic top. When she paid me, I gave her a hug. She looked a little surprised, but, what the hey, there’s not enough love in the world, that’s what I always say.
At the curb, it took me a while to get my leather jacket on. I couldn’t get the little thingie in the zipper to stay inside the little hole while I pulled on it. And people kept stopping in Fern’s driveway or on the street in front of, and in back of, my motorcycle. I had to wave at them all. There were the MacPhersons, their dandelion hair drifting gently around their heads. Once Bob was settled in his wheelchair, they gave a friendly wave back.
Then a man I didn’t know got out of his cute little Yaris. He didn’t wave back, which I thought was rude until I realized he couldn’t take his hands