Page 7 of Goalie Interference

She picked up immediately. “Sophie! What great timing! I wanted to talk to you.”

I heard the smile in her voice, and I was smiling too. “So now is a good time?”

“Absolutely. Come to the shop?”

“I’m heading out now.”

It wouldn’t hurt to earn some goodwill with the new tenant by keeping the noise down while I knew he was there. I closed up the workshop and walked over to the house. Cash’s stupidly big place had a four-car garage, which contained his truck and my little Honda. Maybe someday he’d be around often enough to get another vehicle—he had enough money—but right now he was more interested in his work than enjoying the money he was making.

I got into my Honda, which always looked like it didn’t belong, and took a left when I was past the gates. Diane’s shop was in a strip mall on what had been the outskirts of the city twenty years ago. Austin had grown up around it. Diane said her neighbors when she started included a pawn shop, a burrito takeout, and a convenience store. Now there was a sit-down restaurant that required reservations, a spa that I wouldn’t dare to enter, and a yoga studio.

I loved Diane’s place. I loved my own shop—the smell of wood and oil and varnish of what was my happy place. But mine was still new, and Diane’s shop had decades of accumulation of those odors. She was one of the best luthiers in the state, maybe the country. I’d loved being her apprentice and would have happily continued but there were others needing the opportunity. A lot of luthiers wouldn’t take on apprentices anymore.

When I had questions, or problems I couldn’t solve, I’d come and talk to her. She was generous with her knowledge, and we were close friends now as well as colleagues. A couple of years ago she’d lost her partner, and she still wore the trace of sadness in her expression. Theirs had been a long and happy relationship. She had mostly recovered, but a love like thatwasn’t something to get over. It wasn’t what Ollie and I had, and I wasn’t sure I was capable of that kind of passion.

There weren’t any customers, since it was almost closing time. Diane’s guitars were custom ordered, and most of her repair work was done by appointment. There were some comfortable chairs in front of the store window, and a counter. Behind that, a luthier’s wonderland.

Diane looked up when the bell over the door rang and smiled at me. “Come on back. I want to show you something.”

I walked around the counter displaying guitar accessories, and joined Diane at the workbench. A beautiful Dreadnought was lying there. “Is this one of yours?”

She nodded. “My client decided she wants some inlay done on the neck, so I thought of you.”

“Me?”

She raised her brows. “Yes, you. You do incredible inlay work.” She held out her hands. “I’m just not able to do that detailed stuff I used to.” Her hands were lined with veins, her knuckles looking large against her fingers.

I ran my hand down the neck of the instrument. “Thank you. What are they looking to have done?”

Diane described the star pattern they wanted on the neck and headstock. “We could use bone, or mother of pearl. Maybe on an abalone background?”

“Do they want large, small, cascading…”

“They want stars. They don’t have an exact image, so they want to see what we come up with. Think you could make up a design?”

“I can give it a go, sure.” If they hated it, there wasn’t much lost.

“Sophie, when they described what they wanted, you were the first person I thought of. Don’t just give it a go. Come up witha design, and if the client approves, when do you think you could get it finished?”

I narrowed my eyes, imagining what could be done. “It’ll take me a couple of weeks to get through the major projects I’ve got right now. But I can work on the design in the meantime, and once they approve it and I get the supplies ordered, a week or so. Say four to six weeks for a buffer.”

Diane nodded. “I’ll let them know, and wait to hear from you.”

“I want to make sure I do the instrument justice.” Diane’s custom builds were masterpieces, and I’d hate to mess one up.

“You will. You up for some Tex-Mex?”

That was an easier ask. “Always.”

I helped Diane close up. I hadn’t been here in a couple of months, and I could see she was slowing down. Did she not have an apprentice on hand now to assist?

I drove us to our favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant. We’d come here often when I was training with her. The owners knew us and stopped to chat before taking our orders.

“I hadn’t realized how long it’s been since I saw you. We need to get together more often.”

Diane leaned back in her chair. “Interesting that you mentioned that. I wanted to talk to you about more than that guitar.”

Suddenly my throat tightened. Was something wrong with Diane? This reminded me too much of when she and her partner had let me know about Jane’s cancer diagnosis. “You’re okay, aren’t you?”

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