Page 61 of Fire Dancer

My voice cracked when I replied. “No, thanks.”

I’d long since lost my appetite.

Chapter Fourteen

PIPPA

By the next morning, Stacy still hadn’t called, and I was feeling more and more uneasy — about her, that creepy Deirdre who’d picked up the vials, the “consultants,” and the dead hiker.

Was Ingo right to be suspicious, or was there a perfectly good explanation for it all?

Tangential to that was my building anticipation about the glass contest, and how that related to my financial problems. I had high hopes, but you never knew how a project would turn out until you opened the annealer door.

So, I decided to start there. One step at a time, as Erin liked to say.

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel throughout the drive to town and the hot shop. Once there, I hurried straight to the annealer. My heart was in my throat as I lifted out the decanter and held it to the light.

“Wow,” I couldn’t help murmuring.

Thin black lines crisscrossed the clear glass and curved gracefully over the surface. Small diamonds formed between the lines, each with a tiny air bubble in the center. I turned the decanter around, checking for imperfections but finding none.

“Wow,” I repeated.

It was good. Really good. Possibly my best work ever.

The glasses were just as good. Every last one.

Grinning in triumph, I grabbed my phone, intent on sharing the good news with Ingo, who’d helped me get them done in such a tight time frame.

But all I got was his out-of-office message. The usual, in other words.

My spirits sank.

I thought about calling Abby or Erin, just to be able to share my excitement. But they hadn’t sweated through this project with me. Ingo had. And while I loved making my sisters proud, nothing beat the feeling of Ingo’s pride.

I stared through the glass, not focused on anything in particular. Without Ingo, the world was a little duller, a little emptier. A vessel without anything to fill it, like the decanter I held.

I closed my eyes, replaying our kiss. Was I really ready to deny myself the one person who injected meaning into my life?

On the other hand, that out-of-office message summed things up well. With Ingo, I would always be waiting — or worse, worrying, as I had for my dad.

I thought through all the times I’d waited up for my dad, terrified he or one of his crew might not make it. All the soccer games, all the glass exhibits, all the holidays he’d missed. Was all that worth the trade-off for me and my future kids?

For the first time ever, I was starting to think…yes.

I looked at the phone, tempted to call Ingo again. Instead, I checked the contest specifications for the tenth time.

The winning contestant will submit four beautifully crafted glasses and a matching decanter. All must allow for proper aeration and visibility of the liquid inside.

My mind bounced back to the day Stacy had handed me that flyer.My boss is sponsoring a design contest. I thought you might want to enter.

That day, she’d been carefree and happy. Now, she was missing in action.

My eyes wandered to the northwest, in the direction of La Puebla.

Best view of Chimney Rock in Sedona,one of the “consultants” had quipped yesterday. The exact same words spoken in the same inside-joke way Stacy had once told it.

Stacy, whom I hadn’t heard from in several days now. Stacy, who’d been nervous about something. Stacy, whose boss was sponsoring the glass contest.