Page 20 of Fire Dancer
PIPPA
I took a deep breath, then blew, keeping a close eye on the glowing mass at the end of the rod as it slowly expanded. When I ran out of breath, I capped the end of the blowpipe with my thumb and started swinging the rod. A little too forcefully maybe, because my mind was still on what had happened the previous day.
Damn that Bob Hardy! Damn property assessments and taxes!
I’d shared the news with my sisters, who were just as furious — and just as cash-strapped — as me. We’d stayed up late discussing the problem, but every idea we’d come up with would take time. The first step was checking if the property assessment really had increased, and if so, how to appeal it. I’d volunteered to stop by city hall to inquire, but my sisters had nixed the idea once they found out about my teensy-tiny, totally insignificant fire-setting mishap.
So the task of visiting city hall fell to Abby, and all I could do was glance at my phone every few minutes, hoping for news.
In the meantime, I did my best to turn my anger into determination. I had to win that contest!
My mind was brimming with ideas, but I had to finish other projects first. The owners of Sedona Glass were happy for me to use the shop for private projects, but only after I’d worked downtheir job list. So, there I was, working on yet another project for yet another client.
I switched to the bench and did my best to focus. An upscale resort on the outskirts of town had ordered multiple sets of matching glasses — water, wine, brandy, and so on — so I had to keep moving. The sooner I finished those, the sooner I could get to work on my contest entry. The $25,000 prize was a long shot, but it would come in awfully handy.
Make that, crucial.
By noon, two tidy rows of glasses filled the annealer — a damn good start. Then the bell jingled, and Stacy entered with a cheery wave.
“Hi, Pippa. How are you?”
I pulled off my work gloves and stepped toward the counter. “Great, and you?”
“Great!” Stacy chirped.
We were both lying. Well, I sure was, and Stacy didn’t look great herself. On the other hand, that could have been the light, her makeup, or just a bad night’s sleep.
Or a vampire sucking her blood,I couldn’t help thinking after what Ingo had said.
Still, I doubted Stacy was the type to get mixed up with any kind of criminal, let alone criminal vampires. And frankly, I wasn’t looking my best either, with my frazzled hair and messy work clothes. At least Stacy was nicely styled, with matching colors, makeup, the works.
I pointed to the colorful Monet-flower-print fabric around her neck. “Wow. You always have such beautiful scarves. You must have a whole collection.”
She froze. Oops. Had I said the wrong thing?
She recovered quickly, though, flipping one end of the scarf over her shoulder like a 1930s movie star. “Why, thank you, darling.”
We both laughed.
“I got your order, but it said Tuesday, so it’s not done yet,” I said, moving on to business. “Is that okay?”
Stacy nodded. “Totally. I’m just here for a gift for a friend.”
I put my hand on my heart, truly touched. “Aw, thanks for thinking of us. I hope you find something you like.”
She chuckled. “The only problem will be choosing between everything I love.”
My cheeks warmed. If only every customer were as sweet and easy as her.
The door opened on a young couple — Stacy’s polar opposites, at least in terms of style. Both were clad in head-to-toe black. Their skin was punctured by a dozen piercings and covered in a web of heavy tattoos. But, hey. Whatever made them happy.
“Hi.” The twentysomething woman stepped to the counter and shaped the air with her hands. “We’re looking for a couple of those love vials.”
The guy nodded, making the skeleton tattoo on his throat ripple. “Two of them.”
The girl chuckled and bumped his arm. “That’s what a couple is, dummy. Like us.”
He grinned, just as dopey with love. A slightly offbeat, ghoulish kind of love, but hey. I’d take ahappy Gothcouple overgroomed but grouchyany day.