Where Dreams Begin (29 page)

Dave swung the hedge clippers up to rest on his shoulder. “It sure is. I hope you won’t mind my saying this, but I think you ought to see if Toby actually delivers on a few of his endless boasts before you trust him with much.”

“It is his house,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, and he’ll remind us of that fact every chance he gets. Luke was smart to have a contract drawn up so there will be no misunderstandings. But then he is terrific with details. Of course, thinking is about all the guy does do.”

Catherine knew without glancing up that Dave would be wearing his usual affable grin and hoping she would laugh right along with him. She wasn’t even tempted. “If I were you, I wouldn’t make fun of Luke. He could just as easily have nixed the mural project, but he’s been very supportive.”

“You call doubting that Rafael did his own drawing being supportive?”

She hesitated a moment but decided against revealing Luke’s reasons for appearing skeptical. “No, but generally, he has been very helpful. Did you have any time to work on the greeting cards?”

“Sure, there isn’t much happening here on the weekends. Come on in the office, and I’ll show you.”

Catherine needed to turn in the paint store credit card receipt to Pam and followed him. It was time for the secretary’s lunch break, and after accepting the receipt, Pam happily relinquished her seat at the computer and grabbed her purse.

“Wait until you see what Dave has done,” Pam enthused. “Rather than use whole drawings, he selected the most meaningful part of each. The cards will be spectacular, and I bet all of our volunteers will want them for Christmas.

“Our would-be painters chose some clothes, although I swear they made such awful choices, they’ll resemble clowns when they paint.”

“I don’t care how they look. I just don’t want them to worry about ruining what few clothes they do own,” Catherine replied.

“Well, don’t you worry another minute over that,” Pam advised. “We’ve got a mountain of clothes best used for painting, and I’ll see they get every stitch.”

As soon as Pam had left the office, Dave laid his hedge clippers aside and slid into her chair. He quickly opened the mural file. “Rafael’s design will be the big seller, but take a look at these others and tell me what you think.”

Catherine knew all the designs well enough to appreciate how skillfully Dave had cropped his photos to give the artwork the maximum impact. As he clicked through them, she was amazed. “You’ve improved them all,” she complimented sincerely. “Even Tina’s trash-sorting angel and winged cat look better with a tighter focus.”

“Focus used to be one of my favorite words. It’s time I started using it again. Speaking of which, do you have a minute?”

“Sure, what is it?” She crossed to one of the visitor chairs. She liked Dave but not in the way he liked her, and she didn’t want to give him any false hopes by remaining close while they talked.

“I’ve still got a couple of my good suits, and with a little work on my résumé, I might actually get some interviews. Of course, I’ll have to cut my hair to pass for the corporate type again, but that’s a small price. What I’m trying to say is that I intend to win back everything I’ve lost. I may have wandered a while, but it won’t be much longer, and I’ll have my life back on track.”

“I know you will. Although you’ll surely be missed here.”

Before Dave could respond to her encouragement, Detectives Garcia and Salzman came through the door. That day Salzman was dressed in a tan suit and Garcia in navy blue, as though they had swapped outfits to double their wardrobe options. Salzman was carrying a lumpy black shoulder bag which looked as though it might contain hand grenades.

Catherine immediately leapt to her feet and hurried to knock at Luke’s door. “The detectives are here,” she announced.

Luke mouthed a most uncomplimentary term but immediately left his office to greet them. “How nice to see you again. Have you arrested a suspect?”

“Not yet,” Garcia replied. “But we wanted you to know how popular red satin dresses and blond wigs have become among a certain element of our population.”

“You’re kidding,” Luke scoffed.

“I assure you we’re not,” Detective Salzman replied. “We heard you provide kids with clothes here. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed a run on red cocktail dresses?”

“We don’t accept donations of party clothes, so if red dresses are now a trend, they aren’t from here. Try the Goodwill, Out of the Closet, or Salvation Army thrift shops.”

“We intend to, but we thought you might have heard something,” Garcia pressed. His paisley tie in wines and blues was remarkably subdued compared to the golden brilliance of the one he’d worn on his previous visit.

“I haven’t heard a peep,” Luke assured them. “How about you?”

“No,” Salzman claimed with an exasperated sigh. “But we will. Even if it’s the Lady in Red’s dry cleaner, someone will talk soon.”

“I’m surprised you’re so optimistic,” Dave commented from his seat behind the computer. “From what I read in the
Times
, more than fifty percent of the homicides in Los Angeles remain unsolved. So it stands to reason that a lot of people aren’t talking.”

Neither detective had taken much notice of Dave, but obviously peeved at the lack of efficiency his comment implied, they turned toward him with the precision of synchronized swimmers.

“That’s due in part to gang killings where the murderer didn’t know the victim,” Garcia emphasized. “Clearly, the Lady in Red targeted her victims.”

“Excellent point,” Dave conceded. “I wish you good luck.”

“We make our own luck,” Salzman insisted, her mouth drawn as tight as a drawstring bag. “Let’s keep in touch.” She led the way out the door, and with a disgusted grimace, Garcia followed.

“Charming pair,” Dave noted. “Maybe I ought to consider a career in law enforcement. Do you suppose I’m too old to enter the police academy?”

“Call them and ask,” Luke replied. “Now, this is Monday, and I don’t want to miss out on Mabel’s spaghetti. Let’s go have lunch.”

Dave walked over to the hall with them robbing Catherine of the opportunity to speak with Luke privately, but she hoped he could suggest a diplomatic way to discourage Toby and Dave without alienating either one. As if that were her only worry, she mumbled under her breath, but the thought of facing a plate of spaghetti wasn’t welcome, either.

To elude Dave, she slid into the last place at a table and sat directly across from Polly. “Did you find an extra pair of shoes? You won’t want to get paint on your purple hightops.”

“Yeah, I thought of that and found some jogging shoes that look brand new. I guess somebody must have given up on jogging awfully quick. I picked up a baseball cap too. I sure don’t want to get paint on any of my good hats.”

“No, of course not.” Catherine twirled her spaghetti on her fork but guided none to her mouth.

“I’m glad you’re working on the mural,” Polly offered softly. “All the volunteers here are nice, but you’re my favorite.”

“Thank you, Polly.” She was pleased, but attempting to follow Luke’s advice, she was determined to be a friend to all the teens and not make favorites of any.

Luke was seated at a table near the door to the courtyard, and when he finished his lunch and left the hall, Catherine followed. She caught up to him just as he reached the steps leading up to the office.

“I need your help with something,” she began.

“Sure, if you have a problem, I want to know.” He held the door open for her.

Pam wasn’t back yet, and the outer office was cool and quiet. Luke escorted her into his private office, but she left the door standing open. She had to force herself to sit down, but even then she perched stiffly on the edge of the chair. She hadn’t been this nervous on her first visit to Lost Angel, and she slid her hands between her knees to suppress her jitters.

“You can pretend we’re not well acquainted, but you don’t have Toby and Dave constantly hitting on you. I’m hoping they’ll back off once we’re working on the mural and surrounded by kids, but if they don’t, I’ll be forced to tell them I’m dating an insanely jealous trucker from San Bernardino. Unless, of course, you can come up with a better story.”

Luke leaned back in his chair. He was so pleased she had no interest in Toby, it was difficult for him not to gloat. “I’ll speak with Toby when I take him the contract. Let’s hope that cools him off. San Bernardino is a nice touch, but before you go making up any stories, let’s think them through. After all, a trucker would be likely to drive by to check out the mural, wouldn’t he?”

The office’s warm terra cotta walls and deep russet carpeting formed a soothing cocoon, but Catherine continued to fidget. “I suppose, but just what is it you plan to tell Toby?”

Luke knew precisely what he’d like to say to the tattooed freak, but for her benefit, he modified it considerably. “I’ll just point out you’re a lady and unaccustomed to having to fend off guys on the make. I’ll say you’re too polite to complain to him, but that you’re deeply insulted by his more or less constant stream of sleazy sexual innuendoes. That ought to work.”

She had a sinking feeling such a tasteful request might have no impact whatsoever on Toby’s behavior. “I can handle Toby,” she said confidently. “It’s Dave I’m more worried about. You’re right, of course, a trucker would be sure to show up here. Who wouldn’t? What about an airline pilot who flew European routes?”

“That’s good,” Luke agreed, “or maybe an acrobat with
Cirque de Soleil
. Perhaps a rock musician on tour?”

“Right, as long as I’m going to lie, it might as well be a whopper,” she murmured to herself, but her pensive frown warned him his efforts at humor were misguided at best.

“I know you don’t want to hurt Dave’s feelings and this is my fault. I’m sorry, but I’m not just being a selfish bastard here, Catherine. I’ve a damn good reason for keeping my private life out of the center.”

“Yes, I understand, but for how long? Weeks, months, years?” She bit her lip, but the complaint had tumbled from her mouth before she could catch it.

Her emotion-laced question caught him off guard, and he shrugged wearily. “Right now, I can’t think past this afternoon.” He didn’t mean to mislead her, but neither could he do the courageous thing, the right thing, and send her away. At least not when Toby and Dave would be so eager to console her, he couldn’t.

He cleared his throat and pressed on as though her problem were easily solved. “If you like, I’ll tell Dave you’re seeing someone. There’s no reason to go into imaginative detail when it’s plain you don’t want to lie.”

Catherine felt sick to her stomach, and it wasn’t because she was worried about lying to Dave, but to Luke. “It would still be a lie, though, wouldn’t it?” she cautioned. “It would be meant to spare his feelings, but when Pam knows, why haven’t you told Dave the truth?”

In hope of ushering her smoothly out of his office, Luke rose to his feet. “I’m providing Dave not only with a job and a place to live, but psychological counseling as well. That means I listen to his problems and guide him toward solutions, but I don’t confide in him. Does that make sense to you?”

“Of course, it’s the same as a doctor-patient relationship,” she replied. At least she understood that much. She rose and took a step toward the open doorway. “I really don’t know what to do until that contract arrives and we can begin work.”

She appeared so uncharacteristically befuddled that he couldn’t resist the impulse to give her a hug. The instant she was tucked neatly into his arms, however, it wasn’t nearly enough. He breathed in her delicious vanilla scent and then regretfully released her.

“Why don’t you go on home? When you come in tomorrow, we should be all set.”

“All right, I’ll go. See you in the morning.” Catherine was now sorry she’d left her car parked beside Toby’s house, but because she would walk right by the hall, she decided to make a quick check of the center’s library.

Violet was kneeling on one of the new throw rugs placed in front of the bookshelves. She smiled happily as Catherine walked up. “I’ve got Ford fooled into believing I’ve quit reading, but I’ve just been reading here rather than taking books home.”

Violet looked very pleased with herself for being so clever, but Catherine wasn’t impressed. She sat on the adjacent rug and began to straighten the books in one of the new bookcases.

“I suppose that’s one way to deal with the problem, but it isn’t the best.”

Violet shrugged her thin shoulders. “I think it’s a pretty good way,” she argued. “If Ford doesn’t know what I’m doing, then he can’t throw a fit over it.”

“True, but there must be a limit to how much a woman can sanely hide.” Catherine feared she was close to discovering her own limitations in that regard. “Have you seen Rafael’s drawing for the mural? One of his angels looks an awful lot like you.”

Violet caught Catherine’s wrist with a frantic grip. “Oh no, he can’t use me. Ford would know I’ve been over here, then.”

Violet’s eyes were filled with stark terror, moving Catherine to cover the girl’s small hand with her own. “Perhaps he won’t notice.”

“Oh, he’ll notice, all right. That man can almost see through walls. I better go.” She quickly released her hold on Catherine, turned down the page in the book she’d been reading and shoved it back into the bottom shelf.

“Tell Rafael not to use me. He just can’t.”

Catherine watched Violet sprint from the hall and thought if any of the girls deserved a guardian angel, it was Violet. She was uncertain what to tell Rafael. After all, Violet made a stunning angel, and he might not want to paint someone else in her place.

“Damn, if that isn’t another prickly problem I don’t need,” Catherine moaned to herself, but by the time she had the bookshelves looking as neat as any library’s, she still lacked a viable solution.

Later that afternoon, Luke carried the contract over to Toby’s along with a pen to make certain the artist would have no excuse not to sign. Toby was at work in his garage welding hubcap eyes on his huge cat. When he spotted Luke at the doorway, he climbed down off the ladder, extinguished his torch and raised his protective visor.