Fire Works in the Hamptons : A Willow Tate Novel (9781101547649) (10 page)

Was he talking about me? “I don't need any more stress, either. I couldn't handle worrying all the time if my husband was going to come home in one piece, or in an urn.”

“Good. Then we're both safe from any pressure from the Institute.”

“Good.”

He'd finished his scone but still looked hungry, so I fixed him the second one, mine. I ate some of Elladaire's Cheerios with my tea. While he ate, I thought of a hundred questions I wanted to ask.

“Who pays you? I mean, who do you work for? Who decides where you should go? Royce Institute in England? DUE in this country? The government?”

He blew out a breath, then brushed crumbs off the baby. “The government? They barely know I exist, thank God. Except as a fireman, of course. That's what's on my tax return. It's the oil companies who'll pay anything to keep their profits from going up in smoke. That way I can volunteer to the Park Service or local fire departments, wherever I think I'm needed. The Department of Unexplained Events doesn't find a lot of work for me, but I go when they are in my kind of trouble. It's fun. You never know what you'll face with their situations, like now.”

A carnival was fun.
Saturday Night Live
was fun. Fighting fires or fireflies? Not my idea of a good time. “What about the Army? Someone had to know what you can do to put you there.”

“Kids were getting killed. I wanted to go, to see if I could help. The people at Royce got me embedded as a firematic scientist testing a new airborne fire-retardant. Half the time I forgot to open the damn canister to make it look good.”

“No one noticed?”

“Not when shrapnel started flying and trucks flipped over and men had to run for their lives. It's the same on a city fire call. Everyone has so much equipment it's hard to tell what I'm doing. Usually everyone's so grateful to have the fire contained, they don't ask how. I tell them the formula is still being tested, if anyone tries to get hold of some of my ‘invention.' I explain it doesn't work reliably enough to hand over yet, and there may be side effects. Guys keep their distance.”

“How far does it work?”

“The range of effectiveness depends on whether I'm inside or out, in an open field or a forest, with high or low visibility. Sometimes I can throw a circle of protection about as far as I can throw a ball. Other times it's a narrow cone as far as I can see. Mostly it's a ten-to-twenty-car-length range.”

My fingers itched to sketch what my mind was picturing. “That's one amazing gift you have.”

He touched the scars on his cheek. “Not always a blessing, as you can see. Saving lives, houses, forests—there's the reward that makes it worthwhile.”

“I'm sorry to be so curious. It's fascinating, though.”

He waved that aside. “No problem. It's a relief to be able to talk to someone about my talent without lies and evasions.”

“Untruths won't work around Paumanok Harbor. Too many locals have Royce blood in them.”

“Yeah, they briefed me about being careful what I say. You've got a circus worth of curiosities in this place yourselves. A regular wizards' convention.”

At least he hadn't called us a witches' coven. “It's not all that obvious. I never realized anything was strange about the Harbor until a few months ago. I thought the year-rounders were simply teasing the tourists, or were plain nuts. And half the population is normal.”

“Dull, you mean.”

I thought of the vet, Matt Spenser. “No, not dull. They have full, ordinary lives. My friend Louisa is one of the most contented, fulfilled people I know. She married the man of her own choice, has a great career, a terrific family, and she doesn't have to hide her talents or tell lies to her neighbors. There is nothing wrong with normal.”

“You're not.”

“I'm a writer and an artist, the creative type. I get away with being eccentric. The other paras in town accept each other's powers the same way other people accept a smart kid or a good cook or a tennis ace.”

“You're a little different from your run-of-the-magic clairvoyant or telekinetic, according to my contact at DUE. Your file is so classified I'm not sure it exists, but you are definitely a person of interest to them.”

“You mean how not even the psychics in town know the history of where their talents come from.”

“Unity.”

So he knew about the world of magic that touched ours. That was a relief, too. “I never heard of it until last spring. Few people here are aware of its existence, still. It's a bigger secret from the world than Paumanok Harbor is.”

“But you can touch it or influence it or talk to its envoys.”

“I haven't been able to communicate with the lightning bugs. I sense that they like me. They'll come visit without starting fires, but I have no idea what they're thinking.”

“You'll figure it out. But tell me about yourself, meanwhile. How did such a good-looking, intelligent female avoid the matchmakers for so long?”

I had to smile at the compliments. “I stayed away from Paumanok Harbor as much as I could. I refused to go to Royce University or take any of its classes. And I grew deaf to my mother's lectures. I was home free for awhile. Now, though, if I need help, no one shows up except appealing, attractive, unattached men. Never an old guy or a woman or a teenager.”

“They're not stupid at the Institute. Danger and adventure make for a fast introduction and adrenaline is an aphrodisiac. You're branded into each other's souls before you can shake hands.”

“Exactly. I was half in love with both men they sent despite my intentions.” I quickly raised my hand. “Not that I intended to keep either of them. Not for long, anyway.”

Piet was right; it felt good to talk about my life, about issues I couldn't discuss with anyone else. “You can't build a foundation for marriage on instant attraction, on shared jeopardy. I cannot give my heart and soul to a nomadic troubleshooter, a soldier of fortune, even if he tells fortunes. I refuse to commit myself to a man who walks a tightrope between life and death.”

“Thanks. That lets me sleep better.” He meant it, that he was happy I wasn't interested in him. I guess I could take that as an insult, but I chose to consider it an honest response. Piet Doorn didn't play games. I appreciated his openness.

“So who'd they send?” he wanted to know. “It wasn't in the notes they faxed.”

I took a deep breath. “Grant, Viscount Grantham, and Ty Farraday.”

Piet whistled softly between his teeth. “Major league heavy hitters. They must really want your genes passed on.”

I checked to see if Elladaire was dry, before she leaked all over Piet. “No babies for me. I'll leave my books for posterity.”

“You could change your mind,” he said as I laid out a fresh diaper for when she woke up.

“I reserve the right to change my hair color, my address, and my mind, always. But I'll be the one to change it. No one is going to tell me what to do.”

He raised his coffee cup. “I'll drink to that. And to our clearing the decks, so to speak. We should work well together, now that we understand our positions.”

“Sure.” I felt comfortable with Piet, with none of that edgy, anxious energy of trying to impress a new man. Now I wouldn't have to worry about fighting off any sparks between us. Hey, the dude extinguished fires! Except he looked better than good, drowsy on the couch. Maybe I felt a tiny glow.

I asked if he wanted another coffee, but he said he'd had enough caffeine, trying to stay up for the all-night drive. But Elladaire was still sleeping, so he couldn't leave. I went back to our previous conversation. “What about you? Do you think you will ever change your mind about settling down? Having a wife and kids?”

“Who can be a widow and orphans at the drop of a match? A collapsed ceiling, falling oil rig, blowing propane tanks? I can't control any of that. Maybe I'll reconsider my options when I'm too old to hop in the camper or race for a plane. If anyone will have me then.”

“They'll have you.”

He smiled, showing a tiny gap between his front teeth. “So are we partners?”

“Equal partners. I am no one's assistant, and I don't take kindly to orders.”

“Sure. It's your town, your bugs.”

I sat back in my chair, more relaxed than I'd been since the fireflies appeared. Certainly since Elladaire appeared. Little Red left off hunting for Cheerios and jumped into my lap. “We're good.”

Piet stared at my bare legs and smiled again. “Of course I'm not opposed to having a partner with benefits. You know—a little work, a little play.”

CHAPTER 10

S
O MR. NON-COMMIT played games after all. Before I could tell him what I thought of his suggestive remark—what
did
I think?—someone knocked on the door.

Little Red started barking, which woke up Elladaire, which had me panicking. If she started squalling, how could I explain to the UPS guy or a Jehovah's Witness that a baby caught his shirt on fire? Or maybe an ordinary person would only see projectile vomiting that left scorch marks. Not good.

Piet smiled reassuringly. I opened the door. There was Barry, looking like an Adonis in the rain with a yellow slicker. There was Little Red, attacking his pant leg. The big dogs on the porch looked up and went back to sleep.

“Barry? What are you doing here?” I knew we didn't have plans for today. Or any other day.

“I guess I should have called first.”

“Yes. It's early.” And he should have seen the camper in front of my house.

“I thought you'd be up working. I wanted to get a picture of your work space for the web article.” He held up his cell phone camera.

He knew damn well I set up my studio in the dining room when no one was coming for dinner, but my laptop was upstairs in my bedroom. “This isn't a good time.”

“I can tell.” His gaze went from my bed-head hair to my oatmeal-stained nightshirt, the one with frogs on it, to the dog-chewed slippers on my feet. Then his gaze travel past me to Piet, a crying baby in his arms. “What the f—”

It was none of his business, but I didn't want to be rude to someone who might help my career. “I'm babysitting and a friend came to help.”

Piet got up and shifted Elladaire to one arm so he could shake Barry's hand when I made the introductions. Barry didn't offer his. He sneered at Piet, at his scruffy beard and his scars. Mostly he sneered at Piet's sleepy eyes. I know he thought Piet had spent the night, but there was nothing I could do about that.

“He's great with babies,” was all I said.

Elladaire started screaming, contradicting my words. Yikes! She could make one hell of an article if she spit out sparks. I asked—or begged—Piet: “Are you sure she won't . . . ?”

“Edie's fine,” he answered. “What web article are you talking about?”

I told him about the free publicity Barry was going to get me and my books, how important it was for an author to be “branded” on the web, how Barry hoped to be an author someday.

“Listen,” Barry interrupted, “I need to get going on the interview. My boss thinks it'll be a big deal, bring us lots of viewers, sell more ads. He wants it soon.”

“Maybe we can get together in a couple of days.” After Piet and I disarmed the fireflies and saved the world.

Handsome Barry didn't look so hot with his eyes narrowed and his cheeks flushed with angry red blotches. “So playing house comes before your career.” His lip curled. “I thought you were different.”

He was jealous, with no right to be. And ugly about it, too. And rude to stare at Piet's burn marks or belittle my career choices. “I think—”

“I'll let you two have a little privacy,” Piet said before I could speak and destroy any chance of having a favorable article about my work. “I need some stuff from the camper anyway. Here,” he said to Barry, “why don't you hold the baby so Willow can grab her hell hound before he goes ballistic?”

“I don't want to—” Barry got an armful of enraged toddler anyway. “Damn it, she's sopping wet.”

And Little Red peed on his shoe.

 

“I'm sorry about that.” Piet went to the kitchen sink to fill his cup with water to take a pill. “If you had a thing going ... ?”

“We didn't, and don't be sorry. It's his own fault for coming without calling, and when I had company. Besides, he had no right to be rude.”

“He was jealous. That makes a man act like a Neanderthal. You sure he didn't have anything to be jealous about?”