Chapter 9 #2
“That’s how I took it, and so did Chase when I hitched a ride from him back to my car.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“No, but I think you need to take this seriously, Jena.” Felix sighed, then jerked his chin at a paper someone had left at the next table with the pending nuptials splashed all over the front page. “Chase is going to play along with all that, and you need to join the coven.”
She slumped back in her seat. “I don’t believe it.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This is just some bullshit story to fuck with me like he did senior year, and I’m not falling for it.”
“Do you honestly believe Malcom would play along with something like that?”
“No, but…” Jena’s brow furrowed. “You have no proof he was actually talking about me. There’s a twist in this. There has to be. Why would Malcom give a shit about me? Chase Montgomery doesn’t and never has.”
Felix pursed his lips as he scooped more yogurt from the bowl. “That scar under your chin would say otherwise.”
Her fingers went to it before she could stop herself. She scowled and shoved them back onto to her lap. “No, he didn’t want to get in trouble—ugh, God, whatever. Maybe he just likes licking me.”
“Oh, I’m sure he does.” Felix chuckled at her glower. “He didn’t have to close up that wound, and I was there. I saw how bad it was, Jena. He probably saved your life.”
“Yeah, so he could keep tormenting me,” she muttered.
…“You feel it, too. I know you do. You’re mine…”
Ugh. She wasn’t, damn it, and the only thing she felt was—Jena grabbed her sandwich and shoved a huge bite into her mouth. Never mind what she felt. Chase was a liar, and Malcom’s threat or no, she wasn’t joining the stupid coven.
Chase gritted his teeth as he stormed down the street, people giving him a wide berth.
Goddamn it! The look on Jena’s face as he’d walked past her…
a fist had settled in his chest, and it wasn’t letting up.
He knew he had to act like he was keeping his distance, but Jesus fucking Christ, why did it have to be so damned hard?
Chase’s wolf was snarling at him for hurting her again, and he wanted to kick his own goddamned ass.
What a perfect fucking mood to go shopping for a ring he didn’t wanna buy.
He pushed through the door to Fynbender’s, fighting the urge to smash something. God, the last time he’d been this damned pissed—
Chase blew out his cheeks. No. He wasn’t gonna think about Jena leaving.
She was his. When he’d gone to pull the permits this morning, he’d talked to Felix who said he was meeting Jena for coffee.
He’d make it right. That’s probably why Chase had run into her.
He lifted his hat to swipe a hand over his brow. It was okay. It would be okay—
“Ah! Chase! I’ve been expecting you,” Otis Fynbender said, coming out from the back.
Chase frowned. “So I’ve heard.”
The spry, white-haired warlock laughed, opening a case. “I must say, Crystal’s made your job easy, though they aren’t anything I usually carry. I had to order them in on consignment from a shop in Galleon Falls. Here are the three she picked out. Two are good to go, but the third I’d have to size.”
Chase sighed, crossing to the back case as Mr. Fynbender lifted out a square of black velvet. On it were three of the gaudiest engagement rings Chase had ever seen. Shit looked like costume jewelry.
“Are you kidding me?”
The old warlock pursed his lips. “No, I’m afraid not. She was very specific.”
“Then she’s going to be very disappointed.” Unless his father was ponying up for that crap, there was no way Chase was shelling out for it. Jesus. One of them looked like a diamond daisy with spiky baguettes all around a central stone. “What else do you have?”
Mr. Fynbender’s eyes sparkled as he waved a hand at the case to his left. Inside was a far more reasonable selection—
“What are those?” Chase asked, pointing to a set of rings off to one side.
“Ah, there they are. For some reason I keep losing track of that set…you have a good eye.” Mr. Fynbender pulled them from the case and held them out. “This is an 1890s marquis cut, two carat, art deco engagement ring and wedding band.”
Chase paused before he took them. “They’re not silver, are they?” Man, the craftsmanship was top-notch.
“No, no. White gold, with a bit of rose in the filigree.” Mr. Fynbender chuckled, handing them over.
“Fair warning, it is one of the more expensive sets in the case. Naturally occurring blue diamonds with that color intensity aren’t particularly common, nor is scrollwork that fine.
I picked them up at an estate sale a few years back, and I’m surprised the set hasn’t sold by now. ”
“It just has,” Chase murmured, imagining it on Jena’s hand. “Damn, it’s perfect for her.”
“Really? I-if you’re sure…?” Mr. Fynbender stammered. “That I will have to size—”
“No.” Chase said too quickly. “Ah. Can you do me a favor and hold onto it for me? I’ll take….um, whichever one of those is cheaper,” he said, pointing at two of the gaudier rings in the case. The difference between them and the set he’d chosen for Jena was night and day.
Mr. Fynbender pulled back, his shoulders straightening like he’d caught onto the ploy. “It’s not any of my business, but—”
“No, it’s not, and I’d appreciate it if it didn’t become anyone else’s either.”
The warlock gave him a long look. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah.” Chase blew out his cheeks. “That makes two of us.”
Mr. Fynbender shook his head and muttered something about weres as he headed into the back. Chase pulled his wallet out and tapped his credit card on the counter, the day somehow rosier than it had been.
A half-hour later and thousands of dollars poorer, Chase opened the door to The Witchery and headed upstairs.
The curtains were still drawn, and Jena was nowhere in sight, but Aggie was at the kitchen table working on a crossword.
He heard her before he saw her, that cough of hers worse than it’d been yesterday.
His brow furrowed as he set the document tube with the permits for the bathroom onto the table.
“How’d it go?” she asked, turning to cough into a handkerchief before he could ask her how she was.
“As expected.” Even after he’d called in his favor, the building inspector, Gorman Howe, had bitched about Chase’s plans, pointed out inconsistencies that weren’t there, and then chewed him a new one just because he liked the taste of ass.
“I have a temporary permit to start, and you can expect the approval to come through about six months, after the work’s finished. ”
Aggie nodded with a humph, and reached up to tuck in a loose end of her paisley headscarf. “Manny always was a difficult son of a bitch. You didn’t tell him it was for me, did you?”
Manny? Chase’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t use your name, but I had to give him the address.”
“Well, I suppose that can’t be helped…he’s not coming here, though—” her eyes narrowed, “is he?”
“Ah…he has to inspect the work once it’s completed and will probably stop by at some point unannounced to try to catch me cutting corners—which I won’t do,” Chase quickly said at her look.
“I should hope not.”
“No, ma’am.”
She sniffed, waving him away. “Well, then go on, get to it. That floor’s not gonna rip itself up.”
That it wasn’t. Chase tipped his hat at her and headed down the hallway. His footsteps slowed as he passed by a cracked door, and Jena’s scent washed over him. Damn. That had to be her bedroom.
A peek wouldn’t hurt, right? Aggie had said he could look around. He’d stay in the hall and just poke his head in. He glanced back the way he’d come, his ears straining to hear if she’d gotten up, then pushed the door open, wincing at the subtle squeak of its hinges.
Jena’s room was smaller than Aggie’s but had the same layout, less an adjoining bathroom.
Some idiot had tacked up sheetrock over the paneled walls he was positive were behind it.
Two sets of inset windows faced the street with stained-glass borders like the ones in the kitchen, but didn’t have the plastic wrap over them.
Unfortunately, the nasty crap made a difference.
It was definitely chilly in there, which was probably why the sleigh bed was heaped with a tumble of quilts like Jena had just rolled out of them.
He grinned, every last one some shade of blue.
Those, her sweater, toe polish…he’d known that ring was perfect.
Goddamn, he couldn’t wait to give it to her.
The rest of the room was incongruously neat, just like his cabin. His grin got bigger, imagining their house, what it would be like living together…
“Wrong bedroom,” Aggie wheezed at his elbow.
Chase jumped. Shit. “Ah, yeah. Sorry. The door was cracked, and the windows in here aren’t covered. I was looking at the stained-glass insets.”
Her brow cocked. “Sure you were.”
“I was.” His throat bobbed, and he wet his lips. “This building is amazing. I—thank you for giving me the opportunity to work on it. I—I’ve got a thing for antique architecture.”
Her azure eyes narrowed at him again. “Is that so…”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She clucked her tongue and pointed to a set of crappy composite double doors built out from the side of the hall.
“Tell you what. Somewhere up on the third floor there’s a dehydrator I need brought down to the kitchen.
Should be new, in the box. It was heavy as hell, so it won’t be too far in, but feel free to take a spin around while you’re up there.
I’d bring a flashlight. The electrical is wonky. ”
“Um. Now?” he asked when she kept looking at him.
“Yes, now, you think I’m gonna last much longer?” She coughed as if to underscore her poor health.
“No, ma’am.” He winced. “I mean—”
“I know what you meant, now go.” She shooed him.
He beat feet to the double doors. They’d been built out like that box in the living room. He pulled one side open, cringing at the way it dragged against the linoleum. Dark treaded steps curved out from the wall and headed up.
He clicked the flashlight from his belt on. Christ, were those walnut risers? The treads were a lighter wood, but they were so beat to shit he couldn’t make out enough of the grain enough to identify it. He put a hand to the carved banister, thick with dust, his boot-falls echoing as he went up.
He came out at a railed landing, and then there was another step into what had to have been a ballroom.
The ceiling was peeling and sagging in places, but at one point it’d been hand painted, and there were still places where the gilt shone.
The room ran the length of the building, with long, floor-to-ceiling windows every few feet along the entire southern exposure.
Chase picked his way through the piles of crap and stacks of boxes. Holy shit, was that…He moved a pile of mouldering cardboard aside, cursing as the bottom fell out along with a tumble of books. He waved at the air, coughing, and piled them to one side.
Damn.
A deco-tiled fireplace with a lattice-worked, bronze surround as wide as his arm was long belled out above a cast iron coal bin.
What a freaking find. He stared at for way longer than a normal person would, his brain pinging through all the steps to restore it before he moved on.
More inlaid flooring, chandeliers like the one down in the shop. Jesus. What this must’ve looked like…
An arched, double doorway led to a hallway with two more empty rooms off it.
A study and a morning room, if he had to guess by the built in bookcases in the first and the latter’s exposure.
Another door opened up to a stairway, then a small roof garden with a beleaguered leaded glass greenhouse, its copper struts blue green with patina. Christ, that had to weigh a ton.
He frowned, and it was probably why the ceiling below was sagging.
The way the roof squishing under his weight stopped him before he could peek inside.
Someone had laid down boards leading to it, but he didn’t trust them.
This was a disaster waiting to happen. If they got enough heavy snow, the entire thing would cave in.
Damn it. That needed to be addressed sooner than not.
He headed back downstairs with the dehydrator in tow and set it on the kitchen table beside Aggie.
“Well, what’d you think?” she asked, turning away to cough.
“That your roof’s about to cave in, and if that happens, it’s gonna be a bitch to come back from.” If they could at all.
Aggie pursed her lips, snapping up her crossword. “I’m assuming fixing it’s going to cost more than twenty grand.”
Chase barked out a laugh. “Yeah.” He knocked his knuckles against the table. “Bare minimum, that greenhouse needs to come down before winter. The weight from all that leaded glass isn’t doing you any favors.”
Her eyes flicked to his. “Jena’s not going to like that.”
“She’ll like it less if it ends up in her bedroom, and if it smashes, it’s done for.
We take it apart now, we can reassemble it after the repairs are complete.
If I put up some scaffolding in the main room, we can probably buy another year.
As is, I don’t think the roof will last this one.
” He paused at the look on Aggie’s face.
“Don’t worry about the money. We’ll figure it out.
One thing at a time, and I’ve heard that bathroom floor isn’t gonna pull itself up. ”
She gave him a measuring look. “Nope. That it’s not. Better hop to it.”
He tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”