Chapter 27

"Tell me again about her call, Bob," It was not easy to maintain a conversation while sprinting through an airport, but Trixie persevered. Bob Belden had never completely lost the habit of letting crucial information creep out in tantalizing dribs and drabs, but this was too important for him to be fooling around, and with Di's plane due to land any minute now, Trixie was fresh out of patience. "How did she sound?"

Instead of answering her, Bob just darted though the crowd of business travelers that was blocking her path. This scrimmage brought him to the arrivals board before her, his six foot frame completely hiding the monitor. She squirmed in front of him and winced when his elbow jabbed her in the ribs as he was pulling off his baseball cap.

"It's late," he informed her helpfully, just as her eyes fell on the word, "Delayed."

"Delayed? Well, that's just great!!" Her curls tickled her damp forehead and she blew her them out of the way gustily, "Jim practically broke the speed of light getting us here in time."

"Whoa, Trix, your face is all red, and your hair is all messed up" Bob's brotherly comment was annoying enough, but when he started fanning her with his cap, she'd had quite enough. She snatched it out of his hands and then felt her red cheeks get redder as a security official gave her a suspicious look.  She refrained from strangling her exasperating brother with an effort, but it was just one more setback in a very frustrating day.

She'd spent all morning hitting roadblock after roadblock in her search for Annie Smith. As soon as she decided to break for a very late lunch, her phone started ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

First it was a message from Sheldon Clive's secretary that he was "out of town." Before she could do more wonder if he was evading her calls and toy with the idea of a quick trip to Colorado Springs, her phone trilled again. Honey's mother, in a polite, dignified panic, was on the line saying that Ella Kline needed to have a last fitting for the bridesmaid dresses after all and could Trixie possibly manage 11:30 tomorrow? Trixie suppressed a sigh and agreed as brightly as she could.

OK, instead of working on the case, she was going to be stuck doing her least favorite thing, trying on dresses and standing still while people messed around with pins and hems and necklines and beading.

She picked up her sandwich, and mustard squirted out the bottom. (naturally) She was mopping it up with her napkin when the phone rang again and this time it was Bob.

"Hey Trix! You won't believe this! It's Di! She called Crabapple Farm! She's been trying to call you and we have too, but your line was busy and you didn't pick up your voice mail. She's on her way home and she can't reach her parents to pick her up from the airport because they had to go to Arizona because of Uncle Monty and all that and she talked with Harrison and I said I could but then I couldn't get my car started and Moms is at the Garden Club and Mart's in White Plains getting his tux and Honey and Brian are at the minister's and Dan is on duty but I found Jim and we're on our way and we'll be there as soon as we can and we should be able to meet Di on time if we hurry. You want us to pick you up on the way?"


Of course she did, and so here she was, overheated, unkempt, lunchless, and suspicious looking, but on time at JFK international airport to meet a flight that was delayed 2 hours. "What else could go wrong?" she muttered.

Bob, of course, regarded the whole debacle as a joke. Hands plunged deep in his pockets, he leaned against an ad for long distance and laughed. "Jim's going to be mad, he was grading papers. He could have finished them and been here in plenty of time, if we'd of known it was going to be late."

Trixie eyed her little brother balefully and he straightened up hastily. "Sorry, Trix, but you know, this happens all the time, delayed flights and all that. It's better than us being late, right? Let's go have something to eat. Hey look, Jim got here fast!"

Jim had indeed joined them. (Trixie hastily smoothed her curls) He looked somewhat out of temper himself, and although he kissed Trixie perfunctorily, his idea of a romantic greeting was a grumble about stupid drivers and parking lots. His mood did not improve when Bob told him cheerfully about the delay.

"Oh great!" Jim nearly exploded. "I could have finished grading those essays!" He glared when Bob burst out laughing and even Trixie couldn't restrain a small giggle.

"Come on, let's eat, I'm starved!" Bob started walking toward a food court and Jim and Trixie followed more slowly. Over his shoulder, Bob, bursting with the power of positive thinking, pointed out that Jim could grade the papers tonight.

Jim sighed. "I was going to take your sister out to dinner tonight." His sigh was accompanied by a surreptitious caress and Trixie suddenly felt better. Bob, bless him, didn't see, or at least had no comment.

Bob studied the food court options, then, irrepressible, spoke up again, "Hey, wait a minute! You're taking her out to eat right now! It works out perfectly! Besides, Trixie's not going to want to go on a date tonight, she's going to be debriefing Di about Tempest's mom!"

Jim's eyes glinted dangerously. In the interest of peace, Trixie remarked loudly, giving Bob what she hoped was a quelling look, "I could go for a big cinnamon roll, I never did get my lunch."

Bob, quelled, offered to buy "Buns all around." On the trip from the Belden Wheeler Detective Agency to the airport, he'd alternated between babbling and silence, obviously still embarrassed by his mistake the other day. In fact, Trixie suspected he was avoiding her since then and she knew darn well he was avoiding Jim. Which was probably a good thing. Jim seemed touchy about
Tempest Smith, even after all her "convincing" this past week.

"I'll have an Original Sin-a-bunn," she told her brother who nodded briskly and turned to Jim with just a slight flush. "Jim?"

Jim was still frowning. "Nothing for me, I'll just share with Trixie."

Trixie was suddenly distracted from her musings. Share? Share a Sin-a-bunn? Sure they were monster-sized and all that, but she'd missed lunch. 

She didn't realize she'd given her fiance and the love of her life a reproachful (sulky) glance till Jim hastily revised his order. "OK, OK, I'll have an Original Sin-a-bunn too, Bob." Great now Jim would know he was marrying a glutton. This day was not going well.

She waited till Bob, casting each of them a wide eyed look, went to stand in the long line at the Original Sin-A-Bunn counter. The engaged couple was quiet as they looked for a table that didn't teeter too badly. Embarrassed, Trixie picked up a straw wrapper from a messy table and twisted around her finger.

"Sorry, Trixie, I didn't realize you were so hungry." Jim tried.

"We could have shared," she said, trying to convince herself. "Really. I didn't mind."

Jim laughed at her outright. "Come on, it was written all over your face. It's OK, I'm hungry too, I just wasn't thinking about food, that's all. Between all those essays calling my name, Bob's foot in mouth disease, and worrying about Di, I guess I was a little distracted."

He found a sturdy round table that wasn't too sticky and held out her chair. "But I'm not too distracted to notice that something's bothering you. And it's not that you don't want to share your dessert."

Trixie panicked. Why did he pick now, in the middle of a mobbed airport food court, to get all understanding and sympathetic? She hadn't yet been able to bring herself to tell Jim about her interview with Bill Smith.  Of course, it was confidential information, or was that just a convenient excuse? Shouldn't Jim know how Tempest felt about her? Trapped, she concentrated on rolling her straw wrapper into a neat cylinder. 

He covered her busy fingers with his hand and waited till she glanced up. His smile could still make her pulse race. "Come on, Trix, it's OK. I know you well enough to know what's bothering you."

He knew about Tempest! She studied him warily. He didn't look mad. Or jealous. That was good. Well, maybe he should be a little jealous -- no. She stopped that train of thought. It was good that Jim wasn't jealous. He was sensitive, just what a woman needed in a husband. She drew in a breath. "I didn't think you'd understand, it was just, well, it was a surprise to me, too..." she laughed shakily, "to put it mildly!"

Jim smiled wryly. "I should have realized, Trixie, but you know? I just wanted to surprise you. You know when I knew? It was at that party, that Christmas party, that's when I knew everything."

She was now speechless, an extremely rare condition for her. Jim had known Olympic gold medalist Tempest Smith was in love with her for almost two years, even before she'd realized it? And it didn't bother him? She groped for words and was surprised when a shocked (outraged) question popped out of her mouth, "And you were OK with that?"

Now he was looking disconcerted. "Well, Trixie, I knew you'd want to prove yourself at the agency first. It was so hard to pursued Honey to let you start from the bottom, but you did it. I know that dealing with Jeff and all the tedious cases was tough. But now, with Honey getting married and things better with us, it just seemed like the right time. It was, it was... a gift to myself, to see you happy and where you were meant to be. And an investment in our future."

The straw paper fell to the table and began to unroll. "THAT's what you're talking about? That you bought me my partnership in the agency? I thought you meant -- " Funny how she'd almost forgotten her resentment about Jim's highhandedness. And her resentment was completely uncalled for besides! He knew her better than she did herself. Thank goodness she hadn't said anything about it yet! She swallowed hard and focused rather mistily on him.

"Oh, Jim" was all she could manage, but it seemed to be enough.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure you were, well that you understood. To be honest, I don't think I could have held Honey off much longer; she was going to promote you, come hell or high water!" His green eyes twinkled and he pushed the ragged straw wrapper away. "So what did you think I was talking about?"

"BIG BUNS! I got big hot buns for everyone!" For once, Trixie was grateful for Bob's clowning. He was juggling a tray of cinnamon rolls and coffee and Trixie grabbed a cup of hot liquid just before it slid onto her lap.

"Wow, great reflexes, Trix, sorry about that!" Bob set a golden roll, dripping with cinnamon syrup and slathered with rich icing in front of her. It smelled heavenly. But could she could even swallow one delectable bite? Her throat seemed awfully tight. Jim was really the most amazing, incredible man in the world. And she was keeping The Truth from him. 

She looked besottedly at him as he attacked his own roll with a totally inadequate plastic knife and fork and he smiled back at her before popping a larger than bite-sized piece in his mouth.

Jim and Bob ate hungrily while she tried to figure out what (if anything) she should tell her fiance about the guy who had fallen so hopelessly in love with her. Honesty was crucial between a husband and wife, of course, but she was pretty unlikely to see Tempest again, even if she was working on a case for his father. Why hurt Jim's feelings for nothing?

"She sounded pretty good." Bob was talking with his mouth full, but she was used to that. His words were what puzzled her.

"What are you talking about, Bob?" She and Jim spoke at the same time.

Bob wiped his mouth with the scrap of a napkin provided by The Original Sin-a-bunn and belatedly washed his mouthful down with coffee. "Oh, Di. Trixie asked me how she sounded on the phone. I was just answering her."

Trixie sipped her coffee and felt better. "I asked you that an hour ago, Bob," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but you never let me answer, you were too busy having a fit about the flight being delayed and..."

Bob quailed under the combined glare of his companions. "Bob, just tell us again about Di's phone call," Jim commanded in his headmaster voice. "She said the Lynches had to go to Arizona this morning because Uncle Monty broke his leg, that Harrison had told her that, and then when did she say?"

Bob opened an envelope of sugar and dumped it in his coffee. "Right, well, she said she was coming home right away, and Harrison had told her about Uncle Monty and she was really upset about it, of course. And she said she was tired but OK and she was really grateful that I said we could come get her at the airport. And that was all."

Bob tasted his coffee, winced, and added two more packets of sugar.  Thinking deeply, Trixie tried a bite of her Sin-a-bunn and was not too pensive to find it delicious. When she'd swallowed, she asked suddenly, "Did you ask her if she was OK?"

Bob unwound six inches of his roll and tried to wipe up a glob of icing on the table. "No, why should I? I just told her we'd come and get her. So I tried to start my car and when it stalled, I called Jim and the rest is history."

She met Jim's eye and knew he was thinking the same thing. "Why would she make a point of saying she was OK?" she worried out loud. Jim looked concerned too. Bob was still licking his fingers and trying to unstick his thin napkin from the table. 

"I'm going to get some more napkins," he announced, before shoving back his chair and disappearing in the direction of the condiment table.

"Something's wrong." Trixie said abruptly, diverted from her how-much-to-tell-Jim dilemma. "I've been really worried about her. She's not, she's, you know, she's not..."

"Resilient?" Jim suggested gloomily.

She twisted her mouth in a half smile. "Yes, that's the word. Resilient. She's vulnerable. And sensitive. I wish she'd have come back right away. We could have, have... helped her cope, you know?" She finished her roll and started to scrape up the excess icing with her fork as she thought of Di dealing with heartache all alone.

Jim must have been thinking of that too. "I wish Mart had been home when she called,"

"He's always been good for her, hasn't he? And she's just... just a little insecure sometimes, about some things. Remember when she first joined the Bob Whites?" Trixie took a final sip of coffee. "I mean, she's not like that now, of course, but still..."

They were silent again. Trixie found she couldn't scrape off any more icing from her plate and put her fork reluctantly. "Well, she's finally coming home, that's what's important.  It might be tough for her, participating in the wedding festivities and all, but it'll be good for her to be home."

Looking up from her empty plate, she caught her breath as Bob's cheerful voice announced, "Hey, look who I found!"

She smiled ruefully up at Jim before turning to greet...

"Di?" Her gasp was echoed by Jim.

Diana Lynch, who was always the most stylish woman in the room, was pale and tired looking. Her hair, a bit tangled and cut much shorter than usual, fell across her forehead, not quite concealing a bandage at her temple. She stood facing her speechless friends in cheap, dirty jeans, a sloppy zip-up sweatshirt, no make up, no jewelry.

Trixie realized with a shock that Di looked even more beautiful than ever. After that, everything was hugs and exclamations and laughter. Until Trixie saw the smile fade from Jim's face. She followed his cold, shocked gaze and gasped.

Tempest, looking every bit as bedraggled as Di, was standing back a bit from the noisy reunion. Trixie had forgotten what a solemn smile he had, or maybe she'd just never noticed it. She went ice cold, then burning hot, and she was starting to stammer something when Bob yelled, "Hey Tempest, I have a surprise for you! Your Dad's here!" There was a quick movement behind Trixie and in a second, Bill Smith had rushed past her to give his son a hearty welcome.

Trixie fired an accusing look across Di's rumpled hair at Bob who said nervously, "Oh I forgot to tell you, Tempest was coming too. That's why I called his dad at the hotel. It's like a total reunion, isn't it?"

 

Chapter 28

Di said good bye to her father, shoved the cellphone back in her purse and raked her fingers through her hair. She was tired, but not as tired as she might have expected after a day that started with a romantic dream, proceeded through attacks, kisses, transcontinental travel, and ended up in the safest place in the world, Crabapple Farm. She stretched her shoulders back, working out the kinks, and her gaze fell on a photograph of Trixie with her horse, Susie. She looked at the picture of her best friend a long, long time.


"Diana?"


Di jumped slightly and put the picture back on the dresser hastily. "Oh, Mrs. Belden, hello. Thanks again for letting me stay here tonight, I hope it isn't too much of an inconvenience."

Mrs. Belden answered with genuine warmth. "Of course not, Di, We love to have to you here. I wouldn't hear of you going back all alone to that big house all alone on your first night back. Did you talk to your mother? How is your uncle?"

"I talked to Daddy. Mother is still at the hospital. They're going to set his leg tomorrow. He has some cracked ribs, too. Poor Mother, she's completely torn. I guess she wanted to get right back on the plane and come home when she heard I was back. Leave it to me for bad timing, eh?"

She was shocked to realize the word, "eh" had entered her vocabulary. Was it a real word? Or just a sound? Tempest didn't say it that much, but still, she must have picked it up from him. And suddenly she could see him facing down that gun, attacking Judson like a tiger, and she could feel his strong arms around her, his lips seeking hers.

Mrs. Belden was talking, asking a question, forcing Di to jerk out of her odd haze of exhilaration and misery. "...supper on a tray? You must be exhausted."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Belden, I'm fine. The doctors said so, it really is just a bump, and we, er, I slept almost the whole flight."

She tried to be cheerful, but apparently didn't quite fool Trixie's mother who looked at her searchingly before saying, "Well, I'm glad Brian is home, it's handy to have a doctor in the house. If you're sure, come join us in the dining room, Mart's cooking tonight, something special, if I can judge by the mess he's making in my kitchen."


"I'll be right there, Mrs. Belden, I just need to freshen up." Di assured her. Left alone in the cozy guestroom again, she quickly combed her hair and dug into her carry on bag for lipstick. Naturally it was buried at the bottom and she had to pull out half her belongings to find it.  A half unwrapped packaged tumbled onto the quilt and Di shoved it back in her bag angrily. She should have given it to Tempest on the plane, she was about to when - Well, no point in thinking about that now. It was time to be Diana Lynch instead of Ana.

Attending dress fittings, and planning wedding showers; having a little fun before going back to her career. After all, she'd earned a little down time. Even in all her adventures with Trixie, she'd never spent a week like this past one, an emotional roller coaster from sheer terror to boiling anger to intense happiness. But don't think of that, she told herself, think of the future. Think of how good it feels to be back in Sleepyside.


For the first time in over a year the Bob Whites were assembled again. They'd all come to Crabapple Farm this evening. As Di decided to put on just a little mascara, she smiled. In spite of her doubts, the Bob Whites had reflected nothing but gladness, no pity. She should have known that, of course. They were her best friends in the world. The picture of Trixie caught her eye again and her spirits plunged. Then, defiantly, she applied eye shadow, powder and lipstick and pulled her bangs off her face to show the gauze bandage on her temple as if it were a badge of honor.


There was a chorus of welcomes when she entered the dining room. Mrs. Belden had added the extra leafs to the table to accommodate all her guests: Dan and his girlfriend Jennifer, Honey, Jim. Everyone wanted to greet her again, to exclaim over her "wound" as Bob had called it. Mr. Belden was giving her a fatherly hug when Mart appeared through the swinging door. Her breath caught in her throat, he'd made Chicken Piccata. He'd made it for her one evening long ago, the night before he set off to college.


Dinner around the long table was merry chaos. Honey and Brian were holding hands under the table. (or else Brian had suddenly become left handed.) Mr. and Mrs. Belden praised Mart's cooking and Mart made a pompous and hilarious speech about the importance of fresh ingredients.  Jim grumbled about how behind he was on grading papers. Trixie, to no one's surprise, was asking penetrating questions about TC.

It felt strange for Di to find herself the center of attention, as she told about how she'd met TC. (she didn't mention the advanced state of self pity she'd been in at the time). Then, careful to be accurate and yet not reveal, er, too much, she told of her travels first with TC and then with Tempest and finally, how that slug Judson had grabbed her, mistaking her for TC. Keeping her eyes on three capers left on her plate, she concluded, "When the police came, and heard what Judson had told us, and saw what bad shape he was in with his heart attack and all, they said he couldn't have ransacked TC's cottage and that he must have an accomplice who did it. And they thought he might come after Tempest or me, so they pretty much scooped up us and our stuff, drove us to SFO and shoved us on a plane home."

She raised her eyes at the resounding silence that followed her narrative. Nine pairs of eyes were focused on her with varying levels of amazement. Then a clamor arose.

"You hit him with a ROCK?"

"...really has an accomplice?"

"...had a gun?"

"Did they take an X-ray? I'd like to take a look at it later."

It was hard to hear all the questions, much less answer them, but Di did her best. As she was telling about their Good Cop Bad Cop game, (neglecting to include a description of a heavenly interlude behind a Eucalyptus tree) she felt the level of astonishment rise to near disbelief and suddenly both embarrassed and resentful, she stumbled to a stop until she saw Mart give her a surprised but approving nod. She relaxed, and continued, "It worked great, Judson told us that he wanted either a story or the jewelry, he didn't care which and he thought I was TC because I was wearing her sweatshirt and hood and it was really foggy. And I do think he was working with someone, he kept saying we instead of I."

Jim sounded impressed. "Wow, Di, you've been busy. And you've convinced me, this Judson character is working with someone. Sounds like the police are right, you could still be a target. You were smart to come back home right away."

Above the general agreement, Jennifer's voice, as beautiful and clear as TC's, rose. "Seems to me Tempest is a more likely target for someone trying to track down TC."

For the second time since dinner started there was silence and Jennifer, in the manner of redheads, turned a mottled pink. "I mean, I hope he is all right too," she continued lamely.

Di heard the chill in her own voice as she tried to reassure them (and herself) "Tempest's fine. He doesn't really know where TC could be. I mean, his parents were divorced a long time ago and he doesn't really know her that well. I mean, Judson had a chance to ask him when he interviewed him in the hospital last week, he knows Tempest doesn't know anything about the jewelry. And anyway, he's with his dad now. And Bob."

"Bob insists he's Tempest's 'bodyguard,' " Mrs. Belden obviously had mixed feelings about this. "But I imagine Tempest and his father are just humoring him. I just hope he's not being a nuisance."

Di heard herself speak up hotly, "Bob is not a nuisance, he was very helpful! He and Tempest are friends."

"I have to agree with Di," It was the first thing Honey had said in a while. "Bob did a great job on the internship last summer and he's very observant. I'm sure if anything is wrong, he'll be a help to Tempest."

"Tempest doesn't need any help," Di immediately contradicted herself. "He tackled Judson, and got the gun away, and kept him from dragging me off, and, all with a concussion and a sprained knee and he's really strong and, and, he can handle, um..." trapped by nine sets of eyes on her again, she finished lamely, " um, anything."

"Speaking of Bob," Brian rose after a slightly awkward pause, "he asked me to take a look at his malfunctioning car, maybe the guys can give me a hand."

Mrs. Belden started to clear the table, but Trixie jumped up, "Sit down and relax, Moms, the boys will do the car repairs and the girls will do the dishes, just like old times, right?"

Mart snorted. "Just like old times, but with one key difference! A dishwasher. It's amazing how often the future Mrs. Jim Frayne offers to the do the dishes nowadays."

There was a crash as Di dropped two dishes on Mrs. Belden's polished hardwood floor. She felt like crying as she crouched to pick up miraculously unbroken china, apologizing over and over before Brian helped her up. "Di, it's OK, but I think you should have some rest, you've been though a pretty rough day."

She hated to look like a weakling, but it was just easier to agree. "I guess I am pretty tired, but it's great to be home, everyone." She received warm hugs from the covey of Bob Whites, reassurances from Mr. and Mrs. Belden and a bedside visit from Brian who replaced the emergency room bandage and told her she'd feel better tomorrow.

As she pulled the quilt down on her bed, the knock she was expecting came on her door. "Di? Are you asleep?"

Di was cold and she got under the covers before calling, "Come on in Trixie." She didn't know what she was going to say, but it was better to face Trixie now, instead of worrying about it all night. Maybe.

Trixie came in, carrying two steaming mugs that smelled delicious. "Mart made this for you, and Brian's orders are for you to drink it all down. They didn't order me to have a cup, but too bad!"

As Trixie handed one mug to Di and sat down on the bed, the diamond on her left hand flashed. Not sure of what to say, Di sipped the hot chocolate, waiting for Trixie to launch into an interrogation. But Trixie was oddly silent too.

"Mart makes good hot chocolate," Trixie finally observed.

"He puts cream in it," Di remembered the first time he made it for her, it was the night of his senior prom. It was intensely rich and not too sweet. "He's a great cook. Chef, I guess I should say."

"I'm glad he could be home tonight. He works almost all the time, I think that's one reason Sheila broke up with him." What was with the meaningful look Trixie was casting at her over her mug?

"Hmm. That's too bad they broke up," Di responded automatically, then plunged into the real reason she thought Trixie was in here right now, "I guess you have some news to tell."

Trixie shifted uncomfortably, her hot chocolate dancing precariously close to the rim of her mug, but not quite spilling, "Well, yes, um, Mart gave it away but, well, Jim asked, it was just a week ago, I mean, well, we're engaged." She blurted the news with a nervous smile.

Di formed the words in her mind: Oh Trixie, that's wonderful, I'm so happy for you and Jim! It was true after all, she had always hoped Jim and Trixie to get married. They were made for one another and she knew neither could be happy with anyone else. So she was as astonished as Trixie when she heard herself said in a fierce whisper, "What about Tempest?"

She was almost disappointed when, instead of looking amazed, Trixie looked guilty. Her words came out in spurts. "Tempest? There's nothing... I mean it was over a year ago... He didn't call or anything... It was just one time."

Why did she say anything? Di could have kicked herself. But she could still hear Tempest talking in his sleep. At first it had been cute, he'd dropped off almost as soon as they'd taken their seats in the plane. He looked like a little boy, his face pale under the fresh bruises, his hair slightly rumpled. Just like when they'd been driving to California, most of what he said was unintelligible. But after a while, he'd started to speak more clearly, she almost thought he was awake. A shudder run through him, and he seemed to be reliving the confrontation at Skate Connection when Julie Summers had threatened to kill him. She'd flipped up the arm rest that divided them and put her arms around him. He'd snuggled closer, his hair tickling her cheek slightly, and he quieted down. Di had been drifting off herself, when he'd said clearly, "Don't blame Trixie, Dad. I never told her I loved her. But if I ever have a second chance, I won't make the same mistake." It was only then that Di realized how much she... how she felt about... How, er, important Tempest had become to her.

Trixie had regained her composure, but was avoiding her eyes, "I mean, this has nothing to do with Tempest."

Di frantically wished she could take back her rash words, she suddenly didn't want to know how Trixie felt about Tempest. She stammered hastily, "I meant Tempest's mother, I mean TC, are you still going to look for her?"

Trixie relaxed and for once, Di was glad she had a reputation of being inarticulate. "Of course I'll keep working on the case, why on earth not? In fact, I have more news for you! I'm an official partner in the agency."

"The Belden Wheeler Detective Agency! Finally!" It was easy to feel happy at this news and a few drops of hot chocolate spilled on Mrs. Belden's snowy sheets as Di threw her arms around Trixie with delight. "I knew it, I knew it was just a matter of time, oh Trixie, this is the best news!"

Trixie returned her hug with enthusiasm but when she pulled back, Di saw a shadow cross her face. Before Trixie could ask why Di was happier about the Belden Wheeler Detective Agency than about her engagement, DI forced a yawn out. Trixie took the hint, thank goodness and took the mugs away, saying, "You must be awfully tired, Di, get some sleep. Oh, say, if you're up to it, tomorrow, we're supposed to have a fitting of our bridesmaid dresses."

Di was already lying back against the pillows. It wasn't completely a bluff that her eye lids were drooping. "Sounds like fun, Trix, G'night."

Trixie's smile flashed for a moment before she turned out the lights. "Good night Di, I'm so glad you're back. We all missed you so much."

Di turned on her side. She was back in Sleepyside, and in spite of everything, it did feel good. Maybe Tempest would be a little heartbroken that Trixie was engaged, but people got over it. She was over Trent, after all. She wished now that she'd been more understanding. Tempest had been through a lot and he still had that twinkle in his eye. He 'd literally saved her life, too. With all her boyfriends, flattery and admiration had come automatically to her. So why had she spent so much time criticizing Tempest? She had never even told him how much she liked his skating. She could at least feel satisfaction in how she'd helped. She'd kept him from getting hurt worse, she and her rock! It almost felt like she had passed some sort of initiation. Long ago she'd been "initiated into the Bob Whites" by baby sitting Bobby. It was kind of a wussy initiation, and it had always bothered her, just a little bit. Today, she felt, well, different, like she really could hold her own. "Today I am a Bob White" she whisper and then giggled.

As Di pulled the snug comforter up to her shoulders, she could almost feel the touch of his hair on her cheek. She still had his present from his mother. It would only be right to give it to him as soon as possible. Di smiled faintly in the darkness and seemed to smell just a hint of Eucalyptus as she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 29

The bride wore a scrap of icy white satin wrapped around her middle, nothing else apparently. Her lips were red and full and moist, her short blonde curls gelled and tousled. She was striding down the aisle alone, the gleam of a predator in her eye, a hapless, faceless male silhouette waiting for her in the dim, indistinct church.

Trixie hastily turned the page of Dream Bride Magazine. Dream bride? That advertisement would haunt her nightmares for months! The next ad for a "demure fairy tale wedding dress" was no better, although the dress did have a train that could supply the army with a couple of parachutes. Maybe they'd run out of satin before they got to the neckline. That would explain the extensive amount of bosom exposed by the demure bride.

"Must convince Jim to elope, must convince Jim to elope". She mumbled her mantra, as she turned the pages desperately. Words of wisdom caught her eye.

"Your wedding dress makes a statement, as does your entire wedding, reflecting your personality."

Well, that's a help! All I need is a wedding dress that makes a statement. How about an 'I heart trees' bumper sticker across the rear?

Completely disgusted (and not a little bit frightened), she closed the magazine on her lap and sat back in her dainty chair, unable to repress a shudder. Salvation came in the form of a smiling Ella Kline propelling herself across the hardwood floor of Only The Beginning Bridal Shop. She maneuvered her wheelchair across from Trixie and her gentle smile broadened as she glanced at the issue Trixie clutched. "So, did you find your dream wedding dress?"

Trixie relaxed slightly, reassured that Ella would not suggest such any monstrosity for her wedding. "Um, don't people get married for love anymore, or is marriage all about 'making statements' now," Trixie asked, only half joking.

Ella was the owner of this modest bridal shop in White Plains. The shop was elegant without being intimidating, cozy without being folksy. Ella had started out as a seamstress at the Glen Road Inn, but a few years ago parlayed her talent with an innate ability to relieve Bridal Stress and Mother of the Bride Anxiety to create a small, thriving business.

"They still marry for love, trust me," Ella nodded emphatically. "That magazine is a little extreme, just ignore it. Or laugh at it."

Impulsively, Trixie gave the slim proprietress a hug. "This is a wonderful place, Ella. Who would have guessed back when you made the bridesmaid dresses for Juliana's wedding, you'd someday be making our wedding gowns?"

Ella absently tidied the stack of magazines as she answered, "Not me, that's for sure. Well, my parents never really let me know a person with a disability could do more than sit on the sidelines, they didn't even want me to leave home. But Miss Trask was really pleased with the dresses, of course, and she told me about someone who was looking for a seamstress to make Renaissance faire costumes. I still make those, you know." She glanced around her shop tenderly. "But the real pleasure is making wedding dresses, especially for Honey and for you and..." Ella's high voice trailed off slightly and then she continued innocently enough, "Kay is pinning up the hem of Di's dress and then we can see how she looks, it should just be a few more minutes. And the guys all have their tuxes. Mart came in picked up his the other day and we talked about old times."

Ella's wide gray eyes looked a little wistful and Trixie gave her a shrewd look, wondering if she was waiting for a third Bob White pairing to come to fruition. Trixie had been keeping a close eye on both Mart and Di since yesterday, but they were playing it cool, doing the old friendship routine, but maybe with time -- The delicate bell over the door interrupted her thoughts as Honey and Mrs. Wheeler entered the shop.

Ella hadn't noticed Trixie's sudden preoccupation, she moved forward to greet her clients. "It's so good to see you both! Mrs. Wheeler, I have some tea brewing, may I get you a cup?" Trixie stammered an uncomfortable greeting to her future mother in law. Since her engagement, Trixie no longer knew what to call her best friends' parents. "Mrs. Wheeler" sounded too formal, "Madeleine" sounded disrespectful. Mother? Maybe. But somehow Trixie heard herself saying, "Hello... um, er...how are you?" Fortunately Mrs. Wheeler didn't seem to notice her awkwardness, she offered a warm, serene greeting before following Ella to the tea table set up near the fitting rooms

Trixie sidled over to Honey. "Any luck with Di?" Honey murmured. "I've been so worried about her, she looked completely worn out last night."

"We talked this morning. It was what we'd guessed, too. But she seems ok, I mean she even said it was better that she found out that Trent was messing around. Honestly she seems all right."

Honey was watching Ella and her mother sipping tea but she whispered, "How could she be OK? She was so pale at dinner."

As Mrs. Wheeler (Mother?) paused to compliment Ella on the Renaissance clothing display near the counter, Trixie hissed quietly, "She's all right, Brian said so, but I do think there's something... I think she's holding something back."

"...added a little surprise, I'm so excited to see you try it on!" Ella was obviously eager to see Honey in her completed dress, there was no time for further confidences. Honey cast one questioning look at her partner before allowing herself to be led back to the fitting room. Ella was starting to say something more when the bell tinkled again. Ella smiled ruefully at Trixie before greeting the newcomer, "Well, hello Mary Ellen. Good to see you again!"

Mary Ellen's name, voice, and mouth were prim, in direct contrast to her clothes, make up and jewelry. "Hello, Miss Kline. Do you have them ready? I spent the last two weeks having second thoughts about the rose color. And I had a houseguest who, was, um, very persistent. But she's finally gone and I am ready to get back to business."

Trixie took up Nightmare Bride Magazine again, but "Honeymoon Shopping Tips" article somehow failed to hold her interest. It was taking Di an awfully long time to have her bridesmaid dress fitted. In addition to talking about how her engagement broke up, Di talked about the missing puppeteer. She'd spoken warmly about "TC," as she called Annie Smith, how funny and free spirited she was. In fact Di had been much more talkative than was her usual habit, and yet seemed to say less.

It had to be that rat Trent, and no wonder. Well, she and Honey could talk with Di later. Maybe Honey could draw her out a little more. Trixie wasn't getting anywhere, that was certain.

More worried than she cared to admit, Trixie sought distraction, and, feeling a little silly, resorted to a game she'd invented as a teenager. She closed her eyes and tested her powers of observation on the hapless customer waiting for Ella. The lady, Mary Ellen, was about 55 or so. Probably not here for a wedding dress. Mother of the Bride dress maybe, but didn't girls come with their mothers for that sort of thing? Kind of imperious in manner, if the color wasn't right, what was Ella supposed to do after having made the whole thing up? Heck, maybe she was a bride, they came in all ages after all. She had rings on both hands, so she was either married, engaged, or the kind who just like to wear jewelry.

Not very conclusive. Trixie relaxed slightly as she chuckled to herself. Well, if Mary Ellen was waiting for her wedding gown, Trixie would bet money it would not a demure one. Mary Ellen's taste in clothing ran to glittery handpainted T-shirt, Capri slacks and gilded sandals that matched her toenail polish. She looked pretty good considering she was about Moms' age! Trixie had to stifle a giggle, imagining Moms with gold toenail polish.

"Thinking of Jim?" Trixie's eyes flew open and was stunned by a vision in blue silk. As she gazed at Di Lynch in stocking feet and a bridesmaid dress with a pinned up hem, she heard a gasp from the customer.

And it was no wonder. Di could have been a model instead of a photographer. Her skin was glowing, her figure was curved, but slim, her new short hair cut along with the small Band-Aid on her forehead gave her a confident, jaunty air. In short, Di looked ravishing.

Trixie drew in her breath slowly, taking in the beauty of her friend completely before saying softly and inadequately, "Oh Di, You look so beautiful."

A tiny line appeared on Di's smooth brow. "Were you thinking of -- Were you thinking of Jim?"

Trixie was standing now, ready to give her friend a hug, but the strange and rather cold question stopped her. "Um, no, I wasn't actually, Di, I was thinking of a mystery." she chuckled ruefully but a little uncomfortably. "I guess some things never change, do they?"

Di looked relieved and slightly ashamed. "It's good to know some things don't change, anyway."

"Not that much has changed, really Di," Trixie assured her, able to slip an arm around her for that delayed hug.

Di and Trixie walked arm in arm to the three way mirror. Di was still solemn as she smoothed the skirt, and adjusted the sleeves slightly. "Nothing has changed? Are you kidding? You and Jim are engaged and you don't think that's a change?"

In the mirror, Trixie saw her own jaw drop. Only one other person had been surprised by her engagement and that was Bob. Feeling like she was walking a tightrope, Trixie said cautiously, "Well, it's a big change, of course, but really it just feels so natural, like it was always going to happen, so, I guess it doesn't feel like a huge change. You guys used to tease me about Jim, so I wouldn't except it to be a big surprise after all."

Di had been looking at Trixie's reflection rather than her own, but she shifted her gaze quickly and twirled, more like the old Diana, until she said tentatively.  "What do you think of the dress? It's gorgeous, but I, I don't know if it suits me... I, I'm not sure the princess style is right for me."

Trixie had only the vaguest notion of what a princess style dress was. But she didn't think Di was really talking about a dress anyway. Still it was easy to answer honestly.

"I don't know what a princess dress is, but I do know you look gorgeous in that dress."

"No Trixie, really. I need to know. Only you can tell me and.. It's, it's important. Do you still... do you think this hem looks all right? Or should it be shorter?"

What was this all about? Di was not usually insecure about her looks. And she knew better than to ask fashion advice from Trixie. Unsettled, Trixie was relieved when Ella's voice answered, "Di, you look wonderful! I think the length is perfect, and the style is perfect for you, you are just tall enough to carry it off. " Trixie drew in a deep breath feeling strangely reprieved. Di's features relaxed slightly, then a genuine smile lit up her face.  Trixie followed her gaze and gasped

Honey was glowing in her deceptively simple ivory satin dress. Mrs. Wheeler followed dabbing at her eyes while Trixie, seeing Honey in her wedding gown, was overwhelmed with the memory of a pale girl in a party dress and a shy smile. She suddenly couldn't meet anyone's eyes, knowing that tears were going to rise up in an embarrassing flood. Weddings were happy occasions and she simply would not become a weepy, wussy girl because her best friend was going to become her sister. She just wouldn't.  

But it was convenient that Ella had tissues in a pink box close by, since Di's eyes were overflowing. The silence was broken by a loud, ungenteel sniffle from Trixie, then by giggles from everyone, including Mother. (Mrs. Wheeler)

Ella enjoyed the exclaiming, the smoothing of fabric and the twirling in front of mirrors for a few minutes then tossed an impish smile to Mrs. Wheeler (Mother?) before saying, "Now, I've given you detectives a job, solve the Mystery of the Missing Bob-Whites." Honey raised her eyebrows, Di giggled again (much to Trixie's relief) and Trixie glanced at Madeleine (Mama. Or Momma?) who shrugged her elegant shoulders and said, "You heard what she said ladies, there's a mystery to solve. Trixie, won't you slip into your dress too? We can't do this without all the detectives!"

"Yes, go put on your dress, Trixie," Di was suddenly in good spirits, and she gave Trixie a little push. Baffled, Trixie obeyed, carefully slipping on her own blue silk dress that complimented rather than matched Di's. Spurred by a gale of laughter she rushed back out into the shop. Honey and Di were laughing so hard they could barely stand up and the contrast of their giddiness and the formality of their gowns made Trixie smile. Even the prim Mary Ellen had a grin on her face, still waiting apparently for her own dress.

Di could barely stand up, she was laughing too hard, "We've checked the store, the boys aren't lying in wait for us, and I can't think of any other Bob-Whites missing or otherwise!"

Honey could barely speak, but she gasped out, "We cased the joint and came up empty. Partner, we're baffled! The Belden Wheeler Detective Agency is on the brink of losing its first case!" Things got more hilarious as Ella started confusing them by telling them when they were "hot" or "cold" but as Trixie threw up her arms in mock defeat, Di spotted the "missing Bob White"; a tiny quail embroidered in slightly darker silk just on the left shoulder of Trixie's gown. It was exquisitely done, all but invisible, except from close up. When Di silently pointed it out, there was another sudden rush of tears. Once again tears turned to laughter as Di and Honey began a minute examination of their dresses. Honey's Bob White was at her waist and Di's just above the hem.

This is what a wedding preparations should be like, best friends together, love and friendship, inextricably intertwined. Beginning your new life with your old friends. Now that was a statement.

"Oh Trixie, it's just like we planned all those years ago, brothers and sisters who stick together through anything." Honey's hazel eyes were still misty and her smile trembled. They enjoyed a group hug till Trixie pointed out Ella was going to have a heck of a lot of ironing to do, since they were crushing their dresses.

"Don't worry about that," Ella assured them, "I'm glad you like my little surprise. It was worth it to stump the detectives!" There was a babble of compliments for her "little surprise" and Ella laughed with them for a few minutes before rolling her chair back to her patient customer. Mrs. Wheeler( Mama W?) walked with her to compliment her on the beautiful rose velvet Renaissance style dress Ella's assistant Kay was holding up for Mary Ellen.

"Could I talk to you two?" Di locked eyes with Trixie, her gaze was a bright clear violet, serious, but unshadowed for the first time since she'd arrived yesterday. Trixie was wondering what had caused the change when Honey smiled and said, "We need to hire you at the agency, Di. You solved the mystery."

Di's smile deepened slightly. "That may not be the only ystery I solved. At least I think, well, you are working for Tempest's dad, right? To find TC?"

Honey gasped and Trixie, unable to hide her astonishment, confirmed it. Di was clearly enjoying their reaction. "So what would you two think about a little business trip to Colorado Springs? I think TC might be there."

 

Chapter 30

We skipped the light fandango
turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick
but the crowd called out for more

The room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later
as the miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale

She said, 'There is no reason
and the truth is plain to see.'
But I wandered through my playing cards
and would not let her be

one of sixteen vestal virgins
who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open
they might have just as well've been closed

It seemed colder than usual, maybe because it ws so early, maybe because the lights were low. Tempest hated florescent light so early in the morning so he'd persuaded Heather to keep a few of the lights off. Since he was alone, no one would mind and the resulting dreamlike atmosphere of the ice rink seemed appropriate at 4:00 AM. And after all. The only thing that really mattered was that the ice was perfect.

Tempest laced up hastily. There was nothing like having the ice all to yourself. Taking it slow, taking care of the knee... it was OK being cautious, he decided before abandoning all thought for motion.

He was tired of thinking; thinking in circles. From Mom, to Ana, to Trixie, and back to Mom again. Around and around, like tracings on the ice, not getting anywhere. Not knowing where Mom could be or how Dad felt about her. Not knowing if he'd wrecked his life permanently or just temporarily. Wanting to get back out on the ice, not knowing how his knee would hold up.  Since he'd been back in New York, he'd become increasingly desperate to, well, he knew he needed some distraction, that's all.

Of course Bob was always a distraction. Dad had been amusing too, since somehow he didn't seem to appreciate the finer qualities of the young detective. It was hard to keep a straight face when Dad was raging at Bob's tactics, like yesterday, when Bob had disappeared right before they were going to breakfast. "Gee, Dad, Bob's just doing his job, being my bodyguard. Just like you told him to." Tempest had enjoyed needling his overprotective father, "See, right now Bob is securing the perimeter. After he's established a recon post and done some surveillance, he can courier a top secret message... and then we can have breakfast."

Dad had not been amused. He would be livid if he realized Bob had driven him down to Sleepyside this morning for a pre dawn skate.

Tempest caught a whiff of coffee and looked around for Heather Markeson, who had arranged his stealth skating session. Director of the skating program at Skate Connection, and an old friend, she'd really come through when he'd called begging for some ice time. She'd kindly insisted she always came in this early to catch up on paperwork but he knew she'd gone out of her way for him. A really nice lady.

He stopped at center ice, but she didn't materialize and he resumed stroking rather gingerly around the rink, thinking of Dad, who had nearly blown a gasket when he realized Tempest had his skates with him.

"You dragged them with you all this time? What were you thinking Tempest? You want to skate with a concussion? If you take a fall because of your knee, you could wind up with a lot worse than amnesia!"

"It's not amnesia, I remember everything. Well, almost everything," Tempest now muttered to himself. It should have been creepy to be back at Skate Connection. After all, his nightmares always started right here. Maybe he was finally getting over it all. He was warm now and pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it behind the boards. The faint whispering sound it made sounded like a gasp of surprise and he grinned.

"It's not creepy," He spoke out loud, since there was no one here to hear him. "It just feels good to be here. Good to be back."

His knee was holding up nicely and he started stroking around with more strength. Skating was a relatively simple proposition when you got right down to it. Not like dealing with stupid nightmares and.... well, just problems.

Ok, like his romantic life. Or lack thereof. It was no wonder, of course considering the stupid way he'd acted with Trixie last year, being all reluctant (chicken) to tell her how he felt. And it was all very well and good to vow to be smarter this time, but he'd had no opportunity since Dad had bustled him off to his nondescript White Plains hotel. Tempest hadn't talked with her in two days. Hadn't laid eyes on her in two days. But he could still see every detail of her sweet face; that smile, the laughter in her eyes...

He was shocked to fall on a three turn, a move most babies could do. Good thing Dad was safe in bed asleep. His knee set up a warning throb, but he didn't want to stop quite yet. Just be more careful.

He tried again to shut off his brain. After all, he was back in Sleepyside.

Step One: get your butt to the town she lives in. He laughed softly. For the first time, his bodyguard had come in handy, chauffeuring him to Skate Connection while Dad was asleep, and gallantly volunteering to go back and face the fireworks when Dad woke up. Tempest was going to owe Bob big time.

Because right now Dad was a major problem. The trouble had started when Tempest had given a carefully edited account of Judson's attack. Bob, who had insisted on being in on the "debriefing" had asked a billion questions and drawn out enough details that Dad had gone through the roof. Tempest tried to concentrate on his set up for a scratch spin, but he could still his father's voice cracking,

"You tackled him when he was holding a gun on you? Are you crazy?" Dad had absolutely flipped, reaming him up one side and down the other before describing just how he would dismantle Terry Judson, if he ever got his hands on the "ailing" reporter. He was not amenable to any gentle tactful questions about Mom, her puppets, or even the letters she'd kept so carefully.

His spin was ragged and traveled a good ten feet but not too bad for all his rustiness, but he was glad Dad wasn't here to see it. No, since he'd picked him up at the airport, Dad had made it pretty clear than any discussion of Mom was off limits. And yet he'd hired the Wheeler Detective Agency to find her.

"You might as well know," Dad's oddly defiant words had taken Tempest completely by surprise. They'd just gotten to the hotel and Tempest was unpacking and looking forward to a hot shower when Dad marched into his room and told him. "I hired the Wheeler Detective agency to find her. And Trixie is the one working on the case."

Tempest had dropped his toothbrush in astonishment as Dad had blundered on, half-defensive, half-apologetic. "You know what Bob is like, he went on and on about how great Trixie and Honey Wheeler were, and how they had solved all these crimes, and what a good agency Honey built up, and how they could do anything and I just, well, I just thought, that maybe if they found Annie, I could -- Maybe they could find Annie, that's all. No big deal. Except that maybe you might not feel, um, well, comfortable with Trixie handling things."

There were so many implications in his father's remarks, Tempest didn't know where to begin, but he'd made a weird gulping noise and tried a question he'd wanted to ask since he'd read Dad's letters in the lighthouse. "Do you mean... that is, are you talking about a second chance, Dad?"

Dad had actually paled. He'd been silent a long moment, but the air in the hotel room almost buzzed with tension. When he'd finally responded, Tempest had had to lean forward to hear a voice that while very quiet was as hard as iron, "No, Tempest, I'm sorry. But in this case, there are no second chances. She made that perfectly clear. I think there has been enough hurt and misunderstanding and it's time to move on."

Dad had looked so heartbroken, Tempest could barely speak himself. When he'd finally found his own voice, it was a whisper, "Maybe she still cares, Dad, don't you think there is at least a chance? I mean, you shouldn't give up on, um, love." He'd never talked about love with Dad, and felt himself redden.

Dad had grabbed him by the shoulders and his voice was now a ragged whisper, "No, dammit, it's hard to say this, but you have to listen to me. She doesn't care anymore, at least not the way you want her to, and I don't think she ever did. It's time to move on."

Dad had abruptly dropped his hands, apologized gruffly and quickly exited the hotel, muttering something about getting a newspaper. As Tempest remembered the defeat in his father's carriage, Tempest realized he was standing shock still as anger surged through him. Why did it have to be this way? How Dad could be so sure she didn't love him?    And why he was still looking for her? Would it make a difference if he knew she'd kept all his letters?

Questions, but no answers. Fed up with himself, Tempest skating over to the boards and dug in his duffle for some CDs. The first one he touched was his "senseless sixties" oldies collection, everything from Tambourine Man to Magic Bus. He grinned remembering Ana singing to the oldies station at the lighthouse.

It wasn't sure how long he stood at the boards dreaming before remembering to the put CD in his player. Laughing again, he glided back to center ice to the opening organ chords of Whiter Shade of Pale.

Because the song made no sense, he could concentrate on the soulful tones of Procol Harum. It was his favorite song to drift to. And finally his thoughts drifted too, and he skated with abandon, enjoying the stretch, the flow, the speed, finally free. He even sang a bit, before risking a jump. Just a baby waltz jump, what harm can that do?

And so it was that later
as the miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale

He nailed the jump, feeling as triumphant as if it had been a quad and couldn't resist trying a delayed axel, which turned out to be a mistake. He landed too far back on his heel, couldn't save the jump, and fell.

Damn, he thought originally, as he slid on his back toward the boards. It was a pretty darn hard fall for such an easy jump, and he wasted a few seconds trying to decide hurt more, his knee, his back or his rear end. He was considering getting up, when he heard it.

"Don't move! Stay right where you are!" The voice was female, loud, commanding.

A sudden horrifying (and irrational) vision of Julie Summers's sharp laughter spurred him to scramble to hands and knees.

It wasn't Julie, of course. Julie was small and slight and brittle and moved on the ice like a panther. She was also in prison, well, a psychiatric ward anyway. It wasn't Julie.

It was hard to tell the newcomer's build, she was bundled up in a down jacket, but she was taller than Julie and clearly was not at home on the ice.

Baffled, heart still pounding hard, knee pounding harder Tempest sat back and watched the lady skidding and stumbling toward him.

Procol Harum gave way to Tommy James and the Shondells as Tempest realized who it was. Suddenly everything was all right.

Ah . . .
Now I don't hardly know her
But I think I could love her
Crimson and clover

She was smiling, but her stunning eyes were anxious as she knelt next to him clumsily.

"That scared me! Are you hurt?" She reached out as if to touch his shoulder, then pulled her hand back quickly.

He knew he was grinning broadly, hoped she didn't think he was laughing at her, but he was just so glad to see her.

"I'm fine, I hate to tell you this, but skaters fall all the time, it's part of the job."

"It not certainly is not part of the job to skate when you're just out of the hospital.!" Her dark eyes flashed from concern to scolding.

He couldn't help laughing now, but she looked relieved, not offended. "Like I told Dad not more than 24 hours ago, I am fully recovered. I don't have a concussion, or amnesia or chicken pox or ingrown toenails or the plague. And it feels great to be here. It feels great to be here with you... Mom."

Crimson and clover
Over and over
Crimson and clover
Over and over
Crimson and clover
Over and over ....

Chapter 31

"You have to come, Di, it's crucial!" Trixie's blue gaze was intense. Honey was looking down, one finger tracing and retracing the tiny, delicate quail at her dropped waist. The sparkle of Honey's ring reminded Di she hadn't told the whole story.

She was in a quandary. She had never kept secrets from her friends. And common sense told her that if Trixie and Honey were going to work on TC's case, they might need to know about the jewelry hidden in her puppets.

But Di could still see hear Tempest saying he didn't want Trixie to know. Now she knew why, and she was daring to think maybe it wouldn't matter any more. But maybe, if she want along to Colorado Springs, she could sort the whole mess out even better than Trixie, just this once.  And besides, if she came back with TC, well, it would show him that she could be as brave and clever as, well, anyone else. Ok, so it was an immature strategy, based largely on jealousy of her best friend. But it just might work. After all, Trixie and Honey were right; they did need her to come with them, TC trusted her, and, well, if she
couldn't tell the whole story to her detective friends, she would just have to exonerate TC herself. Then she would give Tempest the good news. His eyes would light up, and they would have an encore of their moment behind the puppet theater.

"Let's get going!" Di exclaimed loudly forgetting there were still customers in the shop. Trixie was saying something about Mart wasn't working this morning and could take them to the airport, but Di was lost in a pleasant daydream of just how Tempest might express his gratitude.

*******

Puff, the magic dragon, lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.
Puff, the magic dragon, lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

The song immediately reminded Di of Mean Janine. The whole children's bookstore, The 100 Acre Woods reminded her of TC who had told her once how much she loved AA Milne. "Except for one poem..."

A storyteller, not nearly as good as TC, was singing and using a dragon puppet that was not nearly as cute as Mean Janine. Her audience of 2 and 3 year olds were squirming on their miniature plastic chairs, but stayed with her.

Trixie and Honey were on the other side of the store, inquiring for the owner.  Di decided to let them work their detective magic and concentrated on reassuring Bill Smith, who had exhibited the same stubbornness his son possessed and had insisted on accompanying them, deaf to Honey and Trixie's suggestions that he stay behind.

"I am sure they will know TC, Mr. Smith," she tried to reassure him. "She has tons of stuff from this store. Coffee mugs, book bags, I bet she got a lot of her books from here."

He gave a short laugh. "It's her kind of place, that's for sure. Even playing Peter, Paul and Mary, she used to sing this song when I first met her. " They were quiet, listening.

"His head was bent in sorrow
Green scales fell like rain
Puff no longer went to play
Along the cherry lane

Without his life long friend
Puff could not be brave
So Puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave."

"Kind of depressing," Di ventured her opinion as the children applauded dutifully.

Bill Smith did look depressed, and it wasn't because of poor Puff's plight. "I was so sure we'd find her here. I can't believe they hadn't even heard of her at her old apartment."

Trixie and Honey were shaking hands with a lady at the cash register who could have been Mother Goose herself, with her granny glasses, soft white hair, and embroidered apron. Hoping this was the owner and that she would know TC, Di
murmured, "The manager had only been there a month too. But she must come back to visit, remember that video was only taken last January."

Bill's eyes turned a steely gray. "Sheldon Cliff has a lot to answer for. It wasn't enough for him to accuse Annie and drive her out of Canada, he's still making trouble for her. I'll settle the score with him, I should have done it twenty years ago." His strong looking hands twisted the innocent pamphlet with a violent wringing gesture.

Di thought of TC. TC, cut off from her family, reading those letters a thousand miles away and something snapped inside,

"Why didn't you settle it twenty years ago? Why did you just let her go?" She spoke in a whisper, but the ferocity of it caused a few heads to turn in the storytime crowd. She blushed, not just from causing a scene, not just because she never talked like that, but because of the agony that flashed across Bill's face.

"I thought she wanted to go, I thought she wanted to escape, Dammit, if I knew she wanted to be with us, I would have, I wouldn't have... Don't you understand? I wanted what was best for HER. That's what love is." He slapped the pamphlet down, his eyes haunted.

Di could have slapped her own selfish face. When did she become so judgmental, first with Tempest, and now with Bill, thinking she could criticize a situation that happened in another country before she was born? Mortified, she mumbled, "I, I, I didn't mean, I didn't think..."

"No, you are right, Di. And it was me who didn't think. But I just - I never could understand what Annie saw in me anyway, and I was keeping her from travel and excitement, applause ... everything she loved. It's only recently that I guess I figured out, well maybe she... Dammit!"

The storyteller was singing "Mary had a little lamb" now. "Not very original," she thought inconsequentially. "TC is much better," she said out loud.

Bill seemed grateful for her irrelevant comment. "So Annie tells stories like this lady? How the heck can she support herself just telling stories?"

"She has to work hard, but she's really good, too." Di had already told him of TC's prowess, but she reiterated, "She gets the kids all excited and the adults too. She's funny and energetic and ... people love her."

His expression softened slightly. "They always have. There's something about her. The first time I saw her, she was singing. People loved her then too. She was so sure she'd be a big singer like Carly Simon or Carole King."


Di imagined a young TC with long straight hair, love beads, and a guitar. She said softly, "She told me she wasn't very good."


Bill picked up a copy of The Tempest.  Di knew there was a soft smile on her face too.

"Well, that's probably true, she wasn't a very good singer. She said she was tired of it, and we got married and she sort of threw herself into being, well, you know, a wife. I told her she should keep singing, but she said she  would rather make stew and vacuum."


The storyteller was reading a story about "sheep in a jeep" now, her audience back to paying rapt attention.


"You're easy to talk to, Di," Bill said suddenly. "I'm not very good at talking, that's always been my problem. And then when she kept getting sick, I -   Well, Tempest tells me I can be, um, a little overprotective."

The storyteller was wrapping up, showing some of the newest books published and was rapidly losing her audience. A small boy squeezed between Di and Bill. Bill grinned suddenly and entertained Di with stories about Tempest's childhood for a few minutes as kids flooded past the two.
 
"So I let him make his own lunch as punishment and he loved doing it!" Di laughed with Bill. Honey and Trixie were still talking with the mother goose lady, and her hopes rose. She tapped The Tempest, thinking she still had to deliver Tempest's present and said, "I assume he is named after the play. I mean I think he said once it's his real name."

Bill's chuckle suddenly sounded just like Tempest's. "Actually his name has nothing to do with Shakespeare. If you must know..." He leaned forward and Di's eyes widened she heard the whimsical way Tempest got his name.


Before she could do more the grin back, and comment that it sounded exactly like TC, Honey and Trixie joined them.

They did not look cheerful. In fact Honey was looking particularly perturbed.

"She says Annie has not been here in months, and that this was the third time someone has asked about her recently. She was very suspicious and it took a long time to gain her trust."

Bill looked alarmed, "Who could be looking for her? Judson? Then she is in danger?"

"I think I was the first one," Trixie reminded him, "I called here a few weeks ago.  But she said a man called a few days ago. It couldn't have been Judson though, she said he sounded like a New Yorker."

The store seemed awfully quiet. The children had left and the storyteller was picking up books and toys they'd left in a jumble.

Di noticed Bill's fist clench tight.  "I was so sure this was a good lead. She spent so much time here, I just thought, you know, it might be  refuge for her."

 "If she's not here in Colorado, we'll try the other places you wrote her. We'll find her." Trixie was right, but Bill wasn't buying it. They'd been so hopeful on the plane.

"Do you think she's in danger?" Bill looked directly at Trixie who answered with her usual honesty.

"Well, I don't think she's in danger from Judson, he's still in the hospital, we checked. Sounds like he just wants a story anyway, which is not so great for her, but not a physical danger" She paused and then added, "But if someone thinks she has the jewelry, well..." she stumbled to a  stop at his expression.

"Don't worry though, Mr. Smith, we'll find her first, and we'll find out who really took the jewelry and clear her name."

He from Honey to Trixie, then spoke deliberately, "Well, I am pretty sure I know who has the jewelry, but if you could prove it, well," his eyes were grim, "well, I would take care of the jerk with my bare hands."

Honey raised her eyebrows but before she could probe this statement, Di let out a noise between a squeal and a gasp.

"Borreguita!"

Di tripped over a tiny plastic chair in her mad dash toward the astonished storyteller. Unconcerned by making a scene in a perfectly respectable children's book store, she snatched a fluffy white object up from the small table.

"Where did you get this! You've got to tell me!"

The storyteller, (Denise, according to her nametag) looked relieved. "Isn't she cute? Can't do 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' without a little lamb, right?"

"Um. Right. Uh, it's really cute." Di was surprised at how steady her voice was, since her heart was hammering furiously. Better calm down, she warned herself. Maybe you can get Borreguitas in any store in Colorado. "Can I buy one here?" she asked.

"No, sorry, people ask that all the time, I do mostly use stuff you can buy here, but she's a little special, hand made in fact."

Di felt a hand on her shoulder, "Di? What's up?" Trixie was giving the storyteller her friendliest grin. and Di murmured, "This is a twin of one of TC puppets."

Bill and Honey joined the huddle around the storyteller who was now looking slightly alarmed.

The lamb puppet was not an exact duplicate, it was much newer looking, a brighter white, less battered. The eyes were different too. But it was Borreguita. Di touched it gently and said, "Where did you get it?"

Bill and Trixie had identical expression of disbelief and dismay when the storyteller answered, "A friend of mine saw it in Bristol, Wisconsin, of all places, and thought I would like it."

Honey said it first, "Wisconsin? Did she ever live there? I mean, did Tempest ever meet her there or anything?"

Bill said heavily, "Never. She never wrote from there either. I doubt she's ever been to Wisconsin in her life."

Di felt the joy in her escape like a punctured balloon. Was this just coincidence? Defeat was written in every line on Bill's face. She put her hand on his and he mustered a smile.

"What's the matter with you guys, this is a great clue," Trixie, the eternal optimist, did not look defeated at all. "We just need to find the shop. Maybe they have a mail order catalog or webpage. Maybe Annie gets a lot of puppets from there. Maybe she's a secret cheesehead. "

When Honey explained they were looking for someone with a similar puppet, Denise admitted she did not know the name of the shop. But (as usual) Trixie was undaunted. "If Honey and I can't find a specialty shop in Wisconsin, we'll have to turn in our detective licenses."

Di picked up the lamb puppet. "You must be Borreguita's cousin, right? We'll go home and tell Tempest we found you. " she spoke quietly to the puppet, but not quietly enough. Bill and Honey were discussing how quickly they could get flight back to New York, but Trixie was looking at her with what looked like, but couldn't possibly relief on her face.

Di put her chin up and refused to succumb to embarrassment. "You have to believe the puppets are real, or the audience won't" she informed Trixie, rather loftily.

"Oh. I can see how that would be," Trixie answered, her vague manner a contrast with her usual briskness. "Maybe when we get home you can update Tempest on what we've found out. Maybe he'll have some other ideas. Maybe Annie talked to him about Wisconsin."

Di raised her eyebrows, "Maybe I should do that. Maybe I can draw him out a little more. Maybe there's more in his past that I can discover."

Much to her dismay, Trixie's expression shifted subtly to guilt. Di clenched her teeth over hot words of jealousy and after drawing a cleansing breath, merely commented, "I think it's time we got back to Sleepyside, don't you Trixie?"

 

Chapter 32

Yeah, I don’t know why I came here tonight,
I got the feeling that something ain’t right,

I’m so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I’m wondering how I’ll get down the stairs,

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.


Six hours had passed since he’d pressed “stop” on his cd player, but the song was still running through his mind. Tempest leaned wearily against the back wall of the elevator, stuck his hands in his pockets and sulked. Things were not working out like he’d planned. At all.

As the elevator rose, he read the crumpled note once more:

“Tempest,

Don’t tell your father you saw me! Meet me at the Glen Road Inn this afternoon, room 317 and I’ll explain everything. Come Alone!

Sincerely,

Mom"

He could only wonder if his mother read too many Lucy Radcliffes as a child.

She'd given him the slip at Skate Connection when Heather, Rosita and a bunch of other skaters had burst in and given him a rowdy, noisy welcome back. One minute Mom had been beaming at him, the next minute, she was gone.

He planned on calling Dad, regardless of his mother's wishes. But first the kids wanted to talk about the Olympics, and then they had to  show him their spirals and flips and Arabians. Then Heather needed advice about the ice show she was choreographing, and as he was finally able to break away, Mr. Lynch of all people caught up with him, insisted on buying him a late breakfast and chatted away about the recovery of his brother in law, the brilliance of his twin daughters, the adventures of his twin sons, and how much they all had missed Ana.

OK, so maybe once Mr. Lynch (finally) started talking about Ana, Tempest didn’t exactly rush away. He couldn't quite bring himself to hint for an invitation to the Lynch house, but if he could bring Mom over later, that would be a great excuse to see Ana. And it wasn't like he was eager to tell Dad what he'd been up to this morning. It must have been close to 10:00 before he reached for his cellphone.

The line was busy. Naturally. It was busy a long time and then finally Bob had picked up.

Tempest took some pride in remaining calm in a crisis. Maybe it was conceited to feel that nothing ever fazed Tempest Smith. (at least when he was awake, and nightmares don’t count) So when Bob told him that Dad was on the way to Colorado Springs because Trixie had a “lead," Tempest only allowed himself a slight flutter of aggravation. He even made a creditable effort to consider it humorous that his father was rushing across the continent while Mom was serenely residing twenty miles away.

But when Bob added that Ana had joined his father on the wild goose chase, the wave of anger that swept over him was nothing like he’d felt, well since Judson tried to attack Ana. Things literally turned red and he found himself hammering a fist against the cafeteria wall. Bob’s tinny voice brought him back to a semblance of sanity. “Um. Tempest? Are you there? Hello? Hello?”

Without hesitation, Tempest blamed a “bad connection” for the interruption. He hoped Bob could not hear his grinding teeth when Bob admitted Dad had not left a number he could be reached at, and that he didn’t take his cell phone. Well, it confirmed one thing anyway.

Both his parents were lunatics.

And Tempest was a lunatic too, because he had been unable to resist his mother's dramatic summons. As he limped (stupid knee) out of the elevator, his mood softened slightly. This was his chance to have a serious talk with his mother. If he could help clear his mother of any involvement in a 20 year old jewelry theft, Dad (and Ana!) would be pleased. Maybe Ana would be very pleased…

He was imagining just how pleased Ana might be and how she might express her pleasure when he was startled by a shout echoing through the hotel corridor. “Stop it! Stop it! Let go of me, you ugly little wretch or I ’ll rip you apart! I mean it!” It was Mom’s voice.

Funny how things kept turning red. Tempest was only vaguely aware of running, but he was suddenly at the door of room 317 and when he heard a crash from inside, he put his shoulder to the door and burst into the hotel room, ready to tackle (kill)  whoever was abusing his mother.

“You came! Oh thank you Tempest!” Expecting to be greeted by any number of thugs, Tempest was taken aback by his mother who wandered over to him and planted a vague kiss on his cheek.

A strangled noise emerged from his throat and she looked up with an expression of mild inquiry.

“What the hell is going on here?”

She cast a disapproving look at him as she picked up an overturned chair next to a small, messy table. “Tempest, this is a hotel, you better keep your voice down before someone complains to the management!”

He did keep his voice down, but it was only because he was speechless.

Clearly pleased by his acquiescence, Mom turned hospitable. “Do you want some lunch? I called room service. I better clear off the table."

She put her hands on her hips and glared at the strips of newspaper, paint brushes, and plastic jugs covering the table top. "You wretched things, I’m half a mind to throw you away!” She was talking to the mess.

He found his voice. “Mom, what happened here? Did someone break in? Did he getaway, are you all right?”

"What are you talking about?" She looked at him as if he were from Mars, then comprehension dawned "Oh! The mess? No, I did that all by myself. One of my stories is about rain and so I thought I’d made some rainsticks, you know, you turn them upside and they sound like rain? From Brazil. I think.”

The last thing he needed was a lesson on rainsticks. Through his teeth, he tried one more time to get a straight answer from her. “I thought you were being attacked!”

She stopped fiddling with the stuff on the table and told him in an utterly reasonable voice, “I wasn’t being attacked, I was making rainsticks."

He opened his mouth, closed it and then tried again, "I could hear you yelling for someone to let go of you. I heard a crash! What's going on?"

Her expression changed rapidly from exaggerated calm to red faced embarrassment. "Oh you heard that? Geez, I have a loud voice sometimes. Well, it's just that...I am not very good at crafts and stuff. I’m using starch and glue and newspaper and the strips were sticking to everything, the table, my clothes, my fingers. So I, er, yelled. A little. And I kind of kicked a chair over, ” The color receded slightly from her cheeks as she added, "And you charged in to save me, and on that bad knee, too. You should sit down."

His knee hurt like the devil, he had once again acted like an idiot in front of his mother, Ana was off in Colorado.  And he had a thousand questions for Mom, everything from the obvious, to the probing, to the none-of-your-business: What are you doing here? Is there some special reason there are jewels hidden in your puppets and rogue reporters trying to kidnap you? Oh, and by the way, how do you feel about Dad these days? There was only one thing left to do. Make rainsticks.

"Uh, well, you want some help?  I’m not good at art either, but if you tell me what to, I could probably help.”

His mother had a very expressive face, it lit up far than his pathetic artistic talent deserved, but in no time he found himself seated at the round hotel table, dipping strips of newspaper into liquid starch and wrapping them around nail studded cardboard tubes, while his mother chatted cheerfully.
“Of course, the real thing is made of cactus, and pebbles, but I looked it up on the Internet, you can get the same effect using cardboard tubes, nails and rice.” Mom pushed a strand of hair from her forehead.  "I'll put the nails in this tube and you put the newspaper on the one I finished. I can handle poking nails in a tube. Barely. Knitting, sewing, macrame, decoupage, all that stuff, I was always hopeless at it.”

He dunked a strip of paper into the ice bucket, which she had filled with pale blue starch, and took advantage of the opening she had given him. “I thought all puppeteers made their own puppets, but I guess you don’t, then.”

“Most do, but I’m always out of step. Story of my life.” She looked sad, but not guilty or nervous.

"So where do you get them?" The next strip of paper slipped into the starch and he tried to fish it out and scrutinize his mother at the same time.

She was methodically poking nails in a spiral down the cardboard tube, still looking composed. "Oh everywhere, really. Toy stores, craft fairs, bookstores, garage sales, when I see one that catches my eye, I just buy it. The best ones are made by hand, of course, Mean Janine and well, I've had Borreguita, too, I've had her for years, she was a present for you, as a matter of fact! Uh-oh, let me get some paper towels!"

Tempest ignored the starch he'd spilled and asked excitedly, "Borreguita was mine? Who made her?"

For the first time his mother looked cautious. Swiping at the spilled starch with a couple of paper towels, she succeeded only in knocking the ice bucket over again. Before she could mop up, jerked the towels away from her and said more forcefully, "Who made Borreguita? Who made Mean Janine?"

The wad of wet paper towels made a splotch as they fell on the table.

"Just a friend," Mom finally replied, looking grim. "Just a friend."

A friend who stole jewelry and hid it in Mom's puppets? Some friend. "Mom -" he started, but she interrupted him with a shocked exclamation. "Oh Tempest, I just realized I've been wrong!"

"You've been wrong? How so?" That's it Tempest, be casual, tactful, let her tell you in her own way.

Her eyes dropped and she said feebly, "Er, I just realized rainsticks are from Chile, not Brazil."

That was it, no more Mr. Patience. "Oh come on Mom, you're protecting someone. That's what you've been doing all these years! It was your friend who took the jewelry, right? Who is it? Why did you let her hijack your life like this?"

Mom put her hands on her hips and faced him. "No one hijacked my life Tempest. You have no right to say so. You don't know me or what I did. Or why."

He shot right back at her, "That's right. I don't know you because you ran away. But I do know it was all because of this damn jewelry. It has to be, Dad is still... You're still in... I just know he... Anyway, I want to know which so-called friend of yours stole the jewelry and blamed you, because whoever did that also stole my mother from me! I don't give a damn about the jewelry but I want my mother back."

Starch dripped off the table onto the carpet. He counted the drops falling. They seemed to be ticking off all the years he'd missed having his mother with him, the years Dad had been alone. He kept his chin up, met her eyes, willing her to answer him. Her eyes were the first to fall and she said in a shaky voice, "I didn't, it wasn't like that. No, Ellen didn't take the jewelry, Tempest."

He would not let up, even at the pain in her eyes. "We found it, Mom. Some of it anyway. In Borreguita. I know you didn't steal it. So that leaves the lady who makes the puppets, what's her name? Ellen? Why are you protecting her? Where is she?"

His mother's lips moved silently. Was she praying? Or coming up with a new story? Her eyes were wide with shock and she finally whispered, "He couldn't have.. or yes, he could have... that would explain... but would he bother?"

Tempest took a step toward her and she blinked at him, coming back from the past. He repeated, "Why are you protecting her?" He knew it was the wrong question as soon as she tossed her hair (reminding him oddly of Ana)

"It's not what you think," she started, her lips curling around the words as if to keep them back.

He took her hands, "Mom, you can't keep putting yourself at risk. I told you, I want my mother back."

She stared at his hands as she muttered, "It's just too late Tempest, all those articles about you over the years and the stuff on the news and all. If I turned up now, it would a pretty big story, wouldn't it? All the stuff about the theft would be hashed up and made even worse, and, well, it would be embarrassing to you. And Dad. It's best just to let it go, Tempest. I made a foolish choice years ago, and you and your father suffered for it, but it's over now."

There was a big lump in his throat, but he wasn't going to accept this. He held her hands tighter, only stopping when she winced slightly, "It's not that simple any more, Mom. Someone wants to hurt you. I don't want that to happen." As gently as he could he told her about Judson's attack and she grew very still.

At this inopportune moment, there was a knock on the door. He put his hand on her shoulder to stop her from answering, but she smiled sadly, "It's not an assassin, I ordered room service, I was splurging, celebrating, really. It was so wonderful to see you skate today."

She wandered to the door, while Tempest cursing the excellent Glen Road Inn service, stayed close. Mom opened the door to a Glen Road Inn waitress, but he was only allowed a moment's respite from worry. The waitress was young, probably no more than 18, and she was flushed and stammering. "I wasn't sure if I should say anything, but I really think he was listening, see your door wasn't closed all the way, and he took off, he's long gone by now but..."

He exchanged a quick glance with his mother and invited her in. After the waitress had told her story, Mom had recovered her aplomb enough to assure the young girl that she "knew" the eavesdropper, an old friend who liked to play tricks on her. "We'll have the last laugh though," she winked as she passed the girl an extra 5 dollars, Tempest's autograph, (as a bonus) and put her finger on her lips. "Oh, I won't tell him anything if I see him," the waitress had succumbed to Mom's charm. "Oh and it was wonderful to meet you, Tempest, thanks for the autograph." she added before leaving mother and son to ponder this unwelcome development.

"Geez, Mom, how many people do you need chasing after you? You say you're protecting your friend, but a lot of people are paying the price, Ana, me..." Mom had closed the door and her shoulders were drooping, but he continued mercilessly, "And Dad. Dad is paying a price too, isn't he?

She finally met his eyes. He couldn't read her expression, but she obviously came to some decision. She marched past him, picked up a canvas purse and said, "You're right. This has gone far enough. Let's go."

For reasons he could not understand, he simply followed her into the hall, leaving behind a warm lunch, a table full of newspaper strips and a freshly starched carpet.

Chapter 33

"You're back from Colorado? You're all back? I didn't know you were coming back this soon, you only left yesterday!" Coffee sloshed over the edge of Bob's enormous mug and fell unnoticed on Moms' previously spotless kitchen floor. Bob grabbed a towel and wiped it up with almost frenzied haste. No one spoke as Bob rose, folded the towel with mathematical precision, and hung it on the rack neatly.

Something was wrong. Never in his life had Bob hung up a towel. Ever.

"Jim and Brian just picked us up from the airport, we took the redeye you know," Trixie explained the sudden appearance of Di, Honey, Jim, Brian and herself at Crabapple Farm at 6 in the morning, then regarded her little brother with sudden suspicion, "Hey what are you doing here anyway? I thought you were staying in White Plains with Tempest."

After adjusting the towel one more time, Bob faced them as though they were a firing squad. "Did you find Mrs. Smith?"

"No, we-Bob what on earth is wrong with you?" He had collapsed in a chair and covered his eyes.

"Mr. Smith is going to kill me, and, even worse, Honey, you're going to fire me, and you should, too but see, see, well, it's just that... Tempest's gone missing!"

*   *   *   *

Trixie hung up the living room extension, and addressed her brother while keeping a worried eye on Di. "Bob, Tempest is OK. He left a message for his Dad at the hotel. He didn't say where he was, but he said he was fine. So relax."

Mart came trotting down the stairs; dressed, showered, shaved, and generally looking far more cheerful than anyone had a right to this early in the morning. "Hi guys! Wow, good morning, Diana Lynch! I was wondering why it was such a beautiful morning!"

His compliment might not have been spoken for all Di noticed. She was seated in Moms' rocking chair and blinked at Mart before saying abruptly, "Why would he disappear right now? He knew we were looking for his mother. It doesn't make sense."

"Unless..." Bob buried his head in his hands and groaned, "Maybe his amnesia came back!"

Mart leaned on the back of Di's chair. "Nice to see you back, Trixie," he said politely. "Did you enjoy a pleasant flight from Colorado?"

Trixie's face felt warm. The other possibility was that Tempest was avoiding Trixie herself! He'd barely spoken to her at the airport the other day. Maybe he hated her.

"Who are we talking about?" Mart was now perched rather precariously on the arm of Di's chair.

"Di's right, why would he take off so suddenly?" Bob ignored his older brother. "When he heard his Dad was going with you guys, he told me he'd hang around Skate Connection a little longer. I kept waiting for him to call back for a ride and I finally went back to Skate Connection and they said he'd left hours before. I drove back to White Plains, I drove all over yesterday..."

Di leapt to her feet and the chair tipped sideways. Mart had to scramble to keep from falling over. "What if the people looking for TC decided the best way to find her was kidnap her son? They tried to kidnap me, you know!" Di demanded. "Why did he go to Skate Connection, it was the obvious place - How could you drive him there, Bob?"

"Are we talking about Tempest? Did you -" Mart had regained his footing, raised his eyebrows, and was looking decidedly interested in their conversation.

His little brother was sinking lower and lower into the sofa cushions and Trixie could barely hear his mumble. "He said he needed to skate, Di, he said it would help him sort things out. I thought it would cheer him up, his Dad was driving him crazy, and, he just seemed kind of, I don't know, restless or something."

Before Trixie could do more than note how Di's eyes filled with tears, Jim put away his cellphone. Di turned away quickly as he offered his report.

"OK, I just talked with Heather at Skate Connection; she gets there real early to open up for the skaters. Tempest has not been there today, but he was there till at least 11:00 yesterday morning. He spent a long time with your dad, Di."

Di's face turned a whiter shade of pale, but her voice was steady. "Daddy? That's impossible, he's still in Arizona."

"No, he came back yesterday and I guess he and Tempest had a nice chat. Heather said they had a little party for Tempest and," Jim hesitated and Trixie worried wildly if he knew about how Tempest felt about her. His next words erased that worry, but added a worse one.

"Um, well, there were a couple of strangers hanging around yesterday morning. Heather said some lady was talking with Tempest when she got there and that later someone left a note for Tempest but no one knows who left it or what it said, it was too busy."

Bob, being Bob, jumped to conclusions (and his feet), "He was kidnapped! That note was a ruse, we've got to call the police, Di's right, this is all my fault, I should have stayed with him."

"Settle down Bob, I can -- " Mart again was trying to speak and again he was shouted down -- by Di of all people.

"Tempest is not stupid," Di shouted hotly (Di shouting?) , "he wouldn't walk into such an obvious trap. But if someone had a gun like Judson did - you didn't see him, he would fight- he - "

"Can you all just -- " Mart tried again, but there was too much commotion. Trixie was as loud as the rest until she felt Jim's hand was on her shoulder and she closed her mouth. Jim's quiet Teacher-Voice caught everyone's attention, "Mart, you look like you have something to say.

Mart actually made a small bow. "Thank you James. In fact I may be able to offer some slight assistance, if I may."

"Stop fooling around, Mart, this is serious." Trixie was about to snap.

"I am serious," he told her. "I am seriously suggesting that you talk to your operative, one Mr. Jeff Johnson."

The uproar began anew at his words. This time Trixie could not resist taking control of the conversation. "Jeff Johnson? Jeff Johnson! The Jeff Johnson Honey fired last week? THAT Jeff Johnson?"

"He was fired?" For the first time Mart looked uneasy. "Well, fired or not, he was at the Glen Road Inn yesterday looking for Tempest and some lady."

"Why was Jeff looking for Tempest?" wondered Bob at the same time that Di, suddenly dry eyed, very red, and rather shrill demanded, "What lady? He was at the Glen Road Inn with a woman?"

Mart answered Di first, "To be honest, Di, she was old enough to be his mother, I doubt there was anything - "
Once again a clamor rose up at his words. Bob raced to the phone, Jim was stammering, "You saw them? At the Glen Road Inn?" Di was looking abashed and relieved at the same time and it was Trixie's turn to stand up. "Start from the beginning, Mart," she ordered.

He darted a look at Di, who was biting her lip. "Well, it all began at high noon. As chef at the Glen Road Inn, I was innocently minding my own business, up to my elbows in culinary delights when Brenda, you guys know Brenda, one of the waitress? She comes into the kitchen, all gooey eyed, waving a piece of paper with the signature of an Olympic Gold Medalist, and telling me there is a problem...."

*   *   *   *

Light and shadow had changed. The crabapple tree just outside the window was shaking blossoms onto the ground. The Bob Whites had scattered and Trixie and Di were alone -- for the moment.

"So, it seems like we are getting all the pieces." Di was speaking in a bright, brisk and completely unnatural voice. She knew. Di must know. She and Tempest had obviously become good friends working on the puppet show together. She must think I'm a monster, treating her friend like that.

"TC must have been the lady at Skate Connection. Heather described her perfectly. How did TC know Tempest would be there?"

Trixie pulled herself together. Di was obviously not going to throw accusations at her right now. "Maybe it was just luck? She knew you lived in Sleepyside, and wanted to thank you taking her car back and doing her puppet show and out of curiosity stopped by the place her son had trained for the Olympics?"

Di shrugged. "Maybe. So they met and he went to see her and they found out from Brenda that Jeff Johnson was spying on them."

Trixie completed the scene. "They slipped out of the hotel down the service stairs, aided and abetted by Brenda, and went to the station and caught a train to New York City. From there they could have gone anywhere in the world."

They sank into gloomy silence that was only broken by the entrance of Honey and Brian.

At the sight of Honey's face, Trixie ad Di exchanged a shocked glance.

"Well, I fired Johnson just a little too late," Honey's face was a mask of cold, contained fury. Brian held her clenched fist and said gently, "There's no way you could have known, Honey, he had a perfect record." Answering the unspoken question in his sister's eyes, he continued, "Looks like Jeff had a nice little moonlighting system going, calling Trixie's clients, telling them she was only hired for being the boss's best friend and offering his services for reduced rates.

There was a shocked silence in the room and Honey took advantage of it to explain. "Letisha figured it out yesterday when Sheldon Clive called asking for Jeff instead of Trixie. She checked his computer and found the records, even how much he was charging people. He's the kind of arrogant -- um -- jerk who would leave the evidence lying around."

Trixie was sputtering, but no words could be formed for a moment. She tried a deep breath and found it useful. After another breath she managed, "And did he leave evidence of his dealings with Clive?"

Honey smiled faintly, "You are right, Trixie, he did. Seems like right before I fired him, he bought tickets to San Francisco on line. Looks like was in California last week."

Di spoke, her voice tight and flat. "Judson's accomplice."

"I think so, though I don't know how exactly, " Honey was clearly struggling to remain calm. "If there is a good in all this though, Letisha was able to come up with a list of his recent searches too, looks like he went from researching puppet shows to puppet shops, just like we were planning to do this morning. And this is what he came up with, just a name." Moving like a robot, Honey held out a piece of paper.

Trixie took it and read out loud, "Merrie Ellen's Gaymes and Diverse Amusements."

Jim was by her side, as always. "This is it? No address?

Honey could no longer conceal her chagrin, her remorse. She looked at the ceiling, swallowed and told it, "That's all. If I had paid more attention to his shenanigans I would have caught this a long time ago - "

Trixie threw an arm around her shoulders. "Honey, you know very well that even though he was a jerk, he got the job done. He just hated me that's all. If it is anyone's fault, it's mine, I shared an office with him, how come I didn't- "

Her self recriminations could have gone on indefinitely, but she lost all power of speech when Di suddenly rushed out of the room.

"She's worried about TC," Jim was trying to be soothing, but it was almost irritating. Duh, of course Di was worried. And she would never say so, but she knew it was all Trixie's fault. "Some detective I am," she murmured and heard an echo from Honey. The Belden living room was quiet as fiances strove to comfort the lousy detective. Their efforts were not notably successful and Trixie had sunk into a paralyzing self recrimination monologue when a noise between a scream and a squeal shocked everyone.

"Trixie, Honey! Come here quick!"

Trixie led the charge into the guest room, followed closely by Honey, Jim, and Brian. Di was standing beside the bed, her suitcase open, the clothes and makeup stirred up and falling onto the bed. Di was holding what looked like a wooden box. She looked up and Trixie actually took a step back, bumping into Bob, who had joined them, crowding in the doorway with Mart. Di spoke in short, staccato bursts.

"It's a chess set, TC's present for Tempest. The police packed it with my stuff, I didn't know until we were at security. See, it was wrapped and they made me open it. I was going to give it to Tempest on the plane but," she paused and her eyes flickered toward Trixie for the briefest second, then she went on, "well, we got distracted. I've been meaning to call Tempest and give it to him. But look."

They crowded around, Trixie found herself hanging back a little, as Di held out a piece of paper. Honey took it and from a long way off Trixie heard her partner heard Honey say, "Merrie Ellen's Gaymes and Divers Amusements, New York Renaissance Faire, Sterling Forest.

Now there was a tiny smile on Di's face as she said, "Do you think puppets are considered a 'divers amusement?' Anyone game for a trip to Sterling Forest this afternoon?"

To Be Continued

TBH Main