Perfect Trust: A Rowan Gant Investigation (26 page)

“Maybe, but we hardly ever get those anymore.
Not since we got on that no-call list.”

“True, but even that doesn’t eliminate all of
them. Non-profit’s and political organizations have a
loophole.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed. “Just seems
funny that we’re getting so many all of a sudden. We don’t have an
election happening anytime soon.”

“Well, it’s the holiday season; whoever it is
might not even be looking to sell us anything. They might be a
charity begging donations.”

“Yeah. I guess that makes sense.” I nodded.
“Especially since nine-eleven was just a few months ago.”

As if it had been listening to us all the
while, the object of our discussion pealed once again.

“I’ll get it,” Felicity said as she quickly
wiped her hands with a dishtowel and stepped over to the wall
phone.

“Well, don’t commit to anything over
twenty-five bucks,” I half-joked.

“Hello?” she said, tucking the handset
between her ear and shoulder.

I waited quietly for a moment, looking over
at her and halfway expecting the call to be another hang-up.

“Oh, hi,” she declared, instantly riddling
that suspicion with holes. “Uh-huh… Yes… Uh-hmmm… Okay, that’s
fine. So which paper are you using? Okay…but it’s still gloss?
Really? What’s the factor on this lot? I can’t imagine it being off
by that much. No kidding. Well, can’t you adjust for it?”

This side of the conversation sounded more
than just a bit photographically technical, so I turned my
attention to the ginger and began thinly slicing the golden-yellow
rhizome.

“What does your analyzer say? Uh-huh…Yeah…
Well, if I remember correctly you’re dead on with my readings.
Uh-huh… Sure, that would be fine,” my wife continued behind me.
“Just dial in a bit of cyan for me if you would. That should take
care of it. Sure. That would be great. No, I don’t need to see it;
I trust your judgment. And besides, you’ve got the original print
for comparison. No, really, I trust you. No problem. Thanks for
calling. Yes. Sure. Uh-huh. Happy holidays to you too. Sure. I
will… Yes… You too. Bye-bye.” She hung up the phone and immediately
exclaimed, “Sheesh!”

“Problems?” I asked, still focusing on the
culinary task I’d been assigned.

“Oh, that was Harold over at Arch Labs,” she
told me as she stepped back over to the counter and rolled her
eyes. “He’s using a different lot of paper, and the color was
slightly off on that batch job I gave him a couple of days
ago.”

“So isn’t that something he can just correct
for?”

“Exactly.” She nodded vigorously as she began
the task of cleaning the platter of fresh ostrich tenderloins and
placing them into the bowl of marinade. “That’s exactly what he’s
supposed to do. That’s why I gave them an original print to compare
to. There’s no need to call me on something like that.”

“I don’t want to sound harsh, but is this
Harold guy incompetent or something?”

“No, that’s not it. He’s really very good at
what he does, and he knew exactly what he needed to do to fix the
problem,” she answered with a sigh and followed it with a slight
pause before continuing. “Actually, I’m afraid I might know why he
called.”

“That would be?” I tossed a handful of the
ginger slices into the marinade and continued chopping.

“I hate to sound like I’m full of myself, but
I think he’s got a crush on me.”

“Hmmm…” I nodded. “That’s not terribly
surprising. I mean, look in a mirror, sweetheart. You’re pretty
easy to have a crush on.”

“Still trying to score points, are you?”

“If I can,” I said. “I suspect I can use all
of them I can get.”

“Uh-hmmm,” she returned. “Thought so.”

“I really meant what I said though.”

“Thank you.”

“So…is it working?” I asked.

“What?”

“The scoring points thing.”

“Keep trying.” She grinned. “I’ll let you
know when you’re out of the red.”

“Oh, so that’s how it works.” I chuckled. “Do
I get any hints on how I can get bonus points?”

“You want a hint? Okay. Think in terms of a
full body massage.”

“Long or short?”

“Long. Definitely very long. With warm oil,
candlelight, and a nice bottle of wine.”

“Could be fun. That all?”

“That’s just to get started. You could follow
it up by drawing me a warm bath with lavender and chamomile, and
then while I’m soaking, you can do all the dishes that are going to
get piled up from tonight’s dinner.”

“Ouch. Now it sounds like work. How about
just the massage and bath part?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Package
deal.”

“Okay, so how many points do I get for
it?”

“I’ll let you know afterwards.”

“Ahhh, I see.” I grinned as I nodded and then
voiced a different thought, “So anyway, back to the earlier
subject. Maybe our mystery caller is your secret admirer.”

She shuffled a half step toward the phone and
leaned forward then stepped back. “Well, the ID shows Arch’s
number, so if it’s him he forgot to mask it that time. Besides, I
don’t think it’s anything that serious. Only a bit of a crush, and
I could even be wrong about that.”

“Oh well, it was just a theory,” I returned
then feigned concern. “My, my, my…a secret admirer. Should I be
worried?”

“What? Me with Harold?” She chuckled
lightly. “I’m thinking maybe
no
.”

“Whew!” I let out an exaggerated and highly
dramatic sigh of relief. “Had me concerned for a minute there.”

“Of course,” she mused aloud, “if you don’t
clean up your act and stop having all these little midnight
encounters with the spirits of dead women…”

“Hey, you’ll want to talk to
them
about that.” I splayed my hands
out in mock surrender. “I’m not entirely at fault
there.”

“Not entirely,” she allowed, “but you do get
some of the blame.”

“Yeah, I do.” I nodded. “I know I do.”

“If it wasn’t for the fact that they are all
residing on a different plane, I think I’d be the one with
something to worry about.”

“Never,” I said. “Besides, I’m pretty sure
they don’t have crushes on me. They’re all just looking for closure
so they can move on.”

“I know,” she echoed. “I still get a bit…I
don’t know… Jealous, seems like too strong a word for it…”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, stopping and looking
over at her. “But you have absolutely nothing to worry about. You
know that.”

“Unless you keep taking chances,” she stated
matter-of-factly.

“I’m working on that.”

Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that
fell neatly down the center of her back. A few fugitive strands of
her spiraling tresses were brushed behind her ear; a dangling gold
earring intertwined with them and lay softly against the pale skin
of her neck. She was absently chewing at her lower lip as she
concentrated on her task. The soft, indirect sunlight coming from
the atrium at the back of the kitchen cast her in a beautiful glow.
I caught myself staring as an entirely new set of thoughts overtook
my brain.

“So what are you planning to wear tonight?” I
asked, not really knowing where the question had come from. Even
so, I felt oddly intent on getting an answer.

“What?” she echoed in a puzzled tone.

“Just wondering what you were going to wear.”
I shrugged, still following what seemed an unfamiliar path.

“What I’ve got on, I guess,” she answered as
she took a step back and gave herself a once over. “I’ll probably
change shirts. Why?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head.

“Do you think I should wear something
else?”

“I just…I don’t know…” I was starting to feel
a bit lost on this trail, but it appeared that a landmark might be
directly ahead, so I gave in and continued deeper.

“What?” she pressed.

The landmark was there as promised, and it
was even familiar. I should have been frightened by it, but since I
was standing in my own kitchen with my wife and not an elevator
with a stranger, I embraced it. Without a second thought I
ventured, “What about your black dress?”

Felicity stopped what she was doing and shook
her head slowly as she looked at me with an incredulous stare. “You
think I should wear a dress?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Well, we’re going to be outside in the cold
during a good part of the evening for one thing.”

“There’s going to be a fire,” I offered, a
seductive vision continuing to coalesce.

“Okay, let’s say I wear a dress.” She canted
her head to the side and shot me a look that said she was just
humoring me in order to see where this was headed. “Which black
dress are you talking about? I have several.”

“You know, that black dress,” I rambled,
simply following a curvaceous image in my head that seemed to be
beckoning me further into a dangerous state of being. “Long…slit up
the side…”

“…
satin, backless, lace sleeves, lace
panel in the bodice?” she offered a more detailed description. “You
mean that one?”

The image was coming completely into focus.
Her description blended itself with the ethereal and brought a rush
of excitement coursing through my body. “Yeah, sure, that sounds
like the one.”

“Well,” she raised an eyebrow, “are you going
to be wearing a tux?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” I shook my head,
answering her absently and directing my attention to the imagery
dancing behind my eyes. “Why?”

“Rowan, that dress is a formal evening gown.
Are you really serious?”

“Sure.”

The fantasy was rapidly heating up, speeding
headlong toward becoming just as lurid as the episode I’d had in
the elevator the day before. I didn’t fight it, even though it was
accompanied by a bit of an itch at the back of my brain. I can only
assume that itch was the reason the vision was able to take over so
smoothly. No whirlpooling colors, no frantic heartbeats, and no
fear; simply pure lust for a private showing of a wakeful dream
that was about to become hardcore fantasy.

I must have been standing there with a
ridiculous grin on my face because the next thing I heard was my
name spoken in a piercing tone of disbelief.

“Rowan!”

The insistence behind her tone told me that
this wasn’t the first time she’d called out. What followed
immediately was an instant feeling of claustrophobia and isolation
as ethereal shields formed a thick barrier around the both of us.
My wife’s response to her protective instinct, coupled with the
sharpness of her voice, shattered my pornographic illusion and I
stammered, “Umm…I don’t know…I guess…I mean… Well, you really look
good in it.”

“Thank you, but I’m thinking maybe I’d be a
bit overdressed for this particular gathering.” Her voice was stern
and she stared at me with a puzzled expression. “Not to mention
that I’d freeze my tail off. Since when did you become so
interested in my choice of clothing anyway?”

“Umm, I really don’t know,” I shrugged, all
remnants of the image fading and leaving me to defend myself
without its reward. “Uhh… Umm…”

“Row, are you okay? There was some pretty
bizarre energy bouncing around in here.”

“Ummm, yeah. I think so.”

“Are you sure? I’ve never felt anything like
that coming off you before… Except maybe during sex, but then it’s
not creepy. This was creepy.”

I really didn’t think it would be a good idea
to tell her the story about the young woman in the elevator at this
moment in time. I’d managed to keep that one to myself, and I
figured it should stay that way for a while longer. Still, the fact
that the sleepless dream had recurred made me think that there was
even more to it than I’d suspected the day before. I still had no
idea quite what that significance was, but it definitely begged
deeper investigation. And in a way it provided a thin reassurance
that I wasn’t completely nuts, even if it did incite a pang of fear
in the pit of my stomach.

“Rowan?” she spoke my name again. “Are you
listening to me?”

I shook my head quickly and answered her as
best I could. “Yeah. I’m listening… I’m fine.”

“You could’ve fooled me.” She furrowed her
brow as she looked at me.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay, I guess. As long as you aren’t
actually expecting me to wear a dress tonight.”

“No. Not really,” I told her and then offered
a weak explanation. “It just must have been that whole massage
conversation. You got me all worked up and so my mind started to
wander.”

“Uh-huh. More like went on an extended
vacation. So it’s all my fault, then.” She wasn’t angry, but she
wasn’t convinced either. She shrugged and cocked her head to the
side. “Okay, since we’re on the subject, what are
you
going to wear
tonight?”

“The usual, I guess,” I answered.

“The usual?”

“Yeah. Whatever you tell me to.”

“Be it known to all that no one is here but
of their own free will,” Felicity spoke aloud, raising her voice
slightly in competition with a cold wind that was sighing through
the leafless trees which surrounded our large back yard. “Those
wishing to be in circle please join hands, left palm up, right palm
down, and take a moment to ground and center.”

We hadn’t yet had any snow to speak of. A
flurry or two here and there, but nothing that stuck around for any
length of time. Now with the temperature still above freezing, it
was looking very much like we were in for an “earth tone” Christmas
a few days hence. Even so, the night was chilly enough that my
shoulder was already starting to ache, and we’d only been outside
for fifteen minutes. I suppose there had been only just so much
that could be done to repair the joint after my encounter with
Eldon Porter, so I figured I’d better get used to it. Still, I was
starting to regret not donning a heavier coat.