25

 

MONDAY

Jane was pruning red geraniums in the window box under one of her front windows when a black limo pulled up to the curb and four people—three adults and one child—got out. All were dressed in yellow hazmat suits. The limo driver opened the rear door for them, then removed several large suitcases from the trunk and walked behind them up the front walk.

“Cordelia?” asked Jane, as the four varying-sized yellow earthlings moved past her into the front hall.

“Thanks for the tip,” said the driver, setting the luggage in the foyer and giving a friendly nod before scurrying out.

Cordelia had arrived at Jane’s door wearing many unusual costumes over the years, but this was by far the strangest.

“We’ve had an infestation,” said Cordelia flatly, removing the elastic hood and unzipping the front of her suit.

Octavia removed her hood as well. Bolger helped Hattie with hers and then removed his.

“You mentioned something about that,” said Jane.

“That’s when I thought it was merely Hattie’s bug collection.”

“Bedbugs,” said Octavia. “Linden Lofts is lousy with them.”

Jane grimaced.

“We’re clean,” said Bolger, matching Jane’s grimace with one of his own. “The luggage is new, as is all of our clothing.”

“But … why are you wearing hazmat suits to my house? I don’t have an infestation.”

“We liked the way they looked,” said Octavia, as if the comment made complete sense.

“Melodrama,” added Bolger. “It’s hard not to be melodramatic when you’re dealing with bedbugs.”

“For obvious reasons,” continued Cordelia, “we didn’t want to go to a hotel.”

“Hotels are breeding grounds,” said Hattie, sitting down on the tile to cuddle with the dogs.

Trying not to panic at the thought of having four houseguests, all potentially harboring a stray bug, Jane asked, “How long will you be out of your loft?”

“A week,” said Octavia, sauntering into the living room and making herself comfortable on the couch. “Maybe two. Hard to say. Bedbugs are hell on wheels to get rid of.”

“Ah,” said Jane. “Fascinating.”

“It’s all right,” said Bolger, patting Jane on the back as he walked past. “We forgive you if you need to go throw up.”

She forced a laugh.

“You’ve got four bedrooms,” said Cordelia. “You only use one of them. And you also have that third-floor apartment. I thought perhaps Octavia could take that.” Speaking to her sister, she added, “It has its own deck, kitchen, such as it is, and living room.”

“I like this living room,” said Octavia, stretching out on the couch as Bolger sat down on one of the chairs. “I’ve always admired your home, Jane. You won’t mind us camping out with you for a few weeks.”

“Janey?” said Cordelia, her face a question mark. “Are we welcome?”

“Um, sure. Of course.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let us twist in the wind during our time of need.” She chucked Jane under the chin.

“I’m famished,” called Octavia, raising her arm, her hand swirling languidly. “What’s in the larder?”

Cordelia accompanied Jane into the kitchen. “You’re really okay with this?”

What could Jane say? Cordelia was her best friend. She smiled, nodded, turned away before she swallowed hard.

“Take a look at my new T-shirt,” said Cordelia, opening the front of her suit to reveal the message, ALWAYS GIVE 100 PERCENT—UNLESS YOU’RE GIVING BLOOD. “I almost bought one that said, ‘There’s Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself—and Spiders,’ but it seemed a little too close for comfort.”

“What about your cats?” asked Jane, opening the refrigerator.

“I’m boarding them for the duration. Didn’t think my cat colony would mix well with your dogs.” She sat down at the table and watched Jane take out several packages of sliced meats and cheeses, mayo, mustard, pickles, and lettuce.

“Sandwiches.”

“That’s the idea.”

She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “FYI, Hatts and I had a little Come to Jesus meeting this morning. I told her that her bug fixation—she calls it a hobby—has to cease. If she wants to pursue scientific inquiry, as opposed to a career in the arts, that’s fine with me, as long as it doesn’t disrupt my life. Geology. Paleontology. Archeology. She can take her pick.”

Jane smiled to herself. Virtually any of the sciences could disrupt Cordelia’s peace and quiet very easily. What if Hattie became fixated on chemistry next? The possibilities for negative outcomes were endless.

“Once this bedbug issue is over, we’ll have no more creepy crawlies.”

“I think the Linden building would need to be hermetically sealed in plastic for that to happen.”

“Time will tell. Perhaps Octavia won’t be the only person looking for new digs.” She peered over the chopping block at Jane’s sandwich making. “Extra mayo, no mustard on mine, thanks.”

At the sound of the back door opening, Jane turned to find Avi coming into the kitchen through the screened porch.

“Oh,” said Avi, clearly surprised to find anyone home. Jane was usually gone for the day by the time she arrived.

“Hey, sweetheart,” said Jane, giving her quick kiss.

“Food? Looks like I timed this perfectly.” She pulled out a chair and sat down next to Cordelia. “Interesting costume,” she said, nodding to that hazmat suit.

“I like it.”

“That woman from Ducasse & Ducasse called this morning,” continued Avi. “She wants to meet with me, but because she’s in Chicago and I’m in Minneapolis, the actual owner of the press is meeting me here at ten.”

“Here?” repeated Jane.

“I thought it would be nice and quiet. Georgia scheduled a study group for our apartment this morning, so it’s crawling with law students.”

“What’s Ducasse & Ducasse?” asked Cordelia.

“You didn’t tell her?” said Avi.

“Haven’t had time. They just arrived.”

“They?”

Cordelia explained about the bedbugs. About Octavia, Hattie, and Hattie’s nanny, Bolger Aspenwall III, moving in for the next week or two.

When Avi heard about the bedbugs, she pushed away from the table, moved behind the wood-block island, and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“I’m deloused,” said Cordelia. “Nothing to fear.”

“Bedbugs are awfully tiny,” said Avi. “How do you know for sure you’re not carrying them around in your clothing? Your hair?”

Hattie chose that moment to skip into the room. “Those little suckers are really smart,” she said.

“Don’t get her started,” groaned Cordelia.

“They can go for months without eating. And they have this cool chemical in their spit that makes blood flow really fast when they bite.”

“Boggles the mind,” said Cordelia. “That I should know something about bug spit.”

Avi checked her watch again.

“So explain about this person you’re meeting?” said Cordelia, hoisting Hattie into her lap.

“A publisher.”

“Are you nervous?” asked Jane.

She seemed unusually reticent. “I don’t know this for sure, but I think the owner is going to offer to publish my novel.”

“You probably shouldn’t jump at the first offer,” said Cordelia.

“There might not be others.”

“You’ll discuss it with your agent,” said Jane.

“I know most of the literati in town,” said Cordelia, checking through Hattie’s hair. “What’s this woman’s name?”

“Martinsen,” said Avi, nibbling a piece of cheese.

Both Jane and Cordelia looked up sharply.

“First name?” asked Jane.

“Julia. I guess she’s a doctor of some sort.”

“Dr. Julia Martinsen,” said Cordelia. “Well, I guess you could say it’s hard to keep an evil genie in her bottle.”

“You know her?” asked Avi.

“My stars and garters, yes,” said Cordelia. “As it happens, so does Jane.”

“Is she easy to work with?” asked Avi.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” called Hattie. Both dogs trotted behind her as she hustled out of the room.

“Wish me luck,” said Avi, her face flushed with excitement. “I know this is a totally trite expression, but this could be the first day of the rest of my life.”

Jane’s wariness was as palpable as Avi’s eagerness.

A few minutes later, as Jane, Avi, and Julia made themselves comfortable on the screen porch, Cordelia appeared in the doorway.

“Cordelia Thorn,” said Julia with a restrained nod.

“Why Julia Martinsen, as I live and breathe,” said Cordelia, in her best Scarlett O’Hara accent.

“Why are you wearing that … that—?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Cordelia. “Seemed like a wise choice under the circumstances.”

Bolger and Octavia bumped past her to get a firsthand look at what was going on. There were now three people on the porch in yellow hazmat suits.

“Cordelia clones?” asked Julia. “Or are you all part of some new cult?”

“Bedbugs,” said Cordelia.

“Pardon me?”

“I’m curious,” said Jane, unwilling to let Cordelia monopolize the conversation. “When did you buy Ducasse & Ducasse?”

“Several years ago,” Julia responded casually. She seemed to be enjoying herself. “As you well know, I have lots of irons in the financial fires.”

“Such as?” asked Cordelia.

“Well, I own a string of movie theaters. A winery in Napa and one in Oregon. A restaurant in Houston, and one in Tokyo. A mining company in Montana. And I’m heavily invested in alternative-energy projects all over the country.”

“Why don’t we get down to business?” suggested Avi, flashing her eyes at Cordelia.

“Of course,” said Julia, reaching for her briefcase. “Cordelia—et al—be dears. Give us a few minutes of privacy.”

Looking annoyed, Cordelia said, “If anybody needs us, we’ll be in the living room scratching our bites.”

“Their what?” asked Julia as they shoved out of the room.

“Nothing,” said Avi. “Just ignore them.”

“Always good advice.” Julia was professionalism personified in her sleek gray business suit and heels. Her blond hair was swept back over her ears, her nails carefully done, her jewelry understated. Avi, by contrast, in her clunky horn-rimmed glasses, boyish clothes, and plaid athletic shoes, was Julia’s antithesis. Jane couldn’t believe she’d ever fallen for Julia’s outward perfection.

Focusing all her warmth on Avi, Julia began, “I want you to know how much I loved your book. Elaine Ducasse sent me a digital copy shortly after she received the manuscript from you. We think this could be a huge book for us, something that will put you on the literary map. I realize that Ducasse & Ducasse isn’t New York, but we give our authors far more attention than any New York press would, and I can promise you a promotional budget that will exceed anything any of the big five will offer.”

“What exactly did you like about my book?” asked Avi, a certain skepticism creeping into her voice.

Jane’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Excusing herself, she went back into the kitchen to take the call.

“Jane, hi, it’s Eric.”

She’d planned to call down to the farmhouse this morning, but so far she hadn’t had a chance. “You sound excited.”

“Jack’s home. Whoever was holding him finally let him go.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Gabriel, too?”

“Afraid not. Jack hasn’t seen him since the night they were taken.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Suzanne and I would like to talk to you. Andrew’s with Jack. He and Branch decided to spend more time helping people clean away downed trees after the storm last night. Winfield was hit hard. He thought it would be good for Jack to do a little physical work, get his mind off what happened to him. Suzanne and I are in the car, on our way up to the Cities. What if we met you at your house in say, half an hour?”

Jane wanted to talk to them, too, but not here. “Listen, it’s kind of a zoo at my place. Why don’t we meet at Cordelia’s new theater. My partner and I have an office on the second floor, front of the building. Corner of Harvard Place and 12th. You know where that is?”

Eric said he did. “I did something I’m not proud of. I’ll tell you about it when we see you.”

Jane’s emotions were deeply mixed. She was elated about Jack, though her concern for Gabriel pretty much quashed the good feelings. Why would one boy be released and not the other? As she came back through the door into the screened porch, she heard Julia say:

“So, the bottom line is, even if you get a better offer from another press, we’ll meet or exceed it. That’s a firm promise from me to you. If you’ve written other novels, we’d like to look at those, too.”

All the skepticism in Avi’s face had been replaced by an expression that was nothing short of rapt. “I’ll need to talk to my agent first,” she said.

“You have an agent?”

“Isn’t that how you found out about my book?”

Glancing up at Jane with a Cheshire cat smile, she said, “Actually, I had some inside information. But of course, go ahead and talk to him.”

“Her.”

“She can call Elaine and they can work out the particulars.”

Avi paged through the contract Julia had handed her. “This looks intense.”

“Which is why you need a good agent,” said Julia, turning her high-beam smile on Avi. “She is a good agent, right? Reputable. Successful. Knows the fiction market?”

“That’s what I’m told.”

“Well, if you find you need help in that department, too, just say the word.” She rose and extended her hand. “I won’t take any more of your time. I hope you’ll consider Ducasse & Ducasse. I look forward to talking to you again.”

“Why don’t I walk you out?” said Jane, wanting to have a word with Julia before she flew off on her broom.

Once outside, she said, “What are you up to?”

“Up to?” repeated Julia. “Exactly what I said. I laid all my cards on the table. I came to offer your friend a book contract.”

“She’s not just my friend. She’s my girlfriend.”

“I’m well aware of the distinction.”

“If you’re trying to hurt her—”

“Why would I do that?”

“To hurt me. To get back at me for ending our relationship.”

“Jane, Jane, Jane.” She opened the trunk of her Lexus and placed her briefcase inside. “You should really think about seeing someone for your narcissistic tendencies. Not everything is about you.”

“I’m not letting you play with Avi’s life—with her career.”

“I’m hardly playing,” said Julia, all the amusement draining from her face. “I think,” she added, sliding into the front seat, “that you’d best let Avi decide what she wants. I made her an offer. It was a good one. I doubt she’ll find anything better, especially in this book market. If you try to insert yourself into the negotiations, I think you’ll find that you come out on the short end. Then again, she’s your girlfriend, as you’re so quick to point out. You know her far better than I do. Just a word to the wise: I’m offering her the brass ring, Jane. What she’s dreamed about. If you make it a choice between Ducasse & Ducasse—otherwise known as me—and you, who do you think will win? It’s a fascinating question, don’t you agree? Can’t wait to see how it all turns out.”

Jane stood in the street seething inside as Julia drove away.