Page 18 of Silver-Tongued Devil
Russell said, “Bet your dad was around, though.”
“Well, yeah. Him and my mom both. Working, but we’ve all got to work.”
“You don’t get it. I wasn’t around. When he and his sister showed up here, Riley was seventeen. When my ex took off with him, he was two, and I wasn’t much good those first couple years. What do I take credit for? A couple years there, when he was practically a grown man already? No.”
“Oh.” That was strange. Normally, when a guy had stepkids, it was because they’d come with the woman, a package deal. “So your stepdaughter is younger, from when you and your ex got back together? Sorry,” he said when the other man looked at him sharply. “Just trying to get it straight. Bad habit. My mom’s a Unitarian minister. She goes on and asks the questions, pretty direct, so she can understand the situation. That’s where it comes from. There and in business. Could make me forget my manners.”
“Nah,” Russell said. “I like a man who speaks his mind. That’s the trouble these days. Nobody’s willing to talk straight. We didn’t get back together, the ex and me. You’re thinking, why’s my stepdaughter here with me, then? There’s more to family than blood.”
“I know that. I’m adopted myself.” It was no secret. The media had loved that story.
“Oh. Huh.” Russell finished off his iced tea, heaved himself to his feet, and said, “Come on. I’ll show you something you’ll like. Show you what my girl does. She’s an artist.”
Great. A woman who lived with her… not even her dad,andshe was an “artist”? Russell was a lonely guy, that was obvious, but still. What a price to pay. Blake stood up, though. What could you do, say, “I’ll pass?” No, you couldn’t. He’d have to say nice things about the “art,” too.
On the other hand, there’d be fresh-caught salmon. Grilled on cedar planks? Couldn’t put a price on that.
When Russell unlatched a wooden baby gate and stepped on through, though, and Blake followed him into a workroom, he had to amend his opinion.
“She did the piece in the kitchen,” he guessed. “The flowers.”
Russell put the gate back into place, and Bella lay down with a heavy sigh and put her muzzle on her paws on the other side, a martyred dog who’d been unfairly shut out. “Yep,” Russell said. “One of my favorites, is why she let me keep it, because those poppies would’ve sold. Got one in my bedroom, too, of a snowy owl at twilight. About the prettiest thing you’ll ever see.”
Blake barely heard him, and he hardly took in the meticulously organized workroom, a space that said nothing like “hobby” and everything like “dedication.” He noticed the paper pattern laid out on the big worktable with paper-covered, numbered pieces lying on top of each numbered section of pattern like some kind of paint-by-numbers project, and then he forgot it. He was looking at something else. Something hanging in a corner like an afterthought.
It was big. That was the first thing that struck him. Probably four feet across. A bald eagle skimming over the edge of a rippling blue lake, its wings and talons outstretched, the vague suggestion of snow-capped mountains in the background. He didn’t know how you did something like that in glass. The perfect symmetry, the incredible grace. The sheer number of pieces of glass, their minute size.
It was meticulously done, but it wasn’t the craftsmanship that had him standing mesmerized. It was that hefeltthe eagle. He understood the bird’s total concentration as it stretched its yellow talons out for that fish. It was exactly what you felt just before you threw the pass you needed, the one in the final seconds when the clock was ticking down. When you waited, knowing the hit was coming and not caring, because the ball had to leave your hand right… now. Right… there. The moment before you won, and to hell with what happened next, with how hard that linebacker would hit you. It was all about this moment, about concentration and resolve, about getting it done.
“That’s one hell of a piece,” he managed to say. “That for sale?”
“Don’t know,” Russell said. “She does some stuff on commission, mostly for folks with lake houses, and other stuff for sale in the galleries. Coeur d’Alene, Seattle. I’m not sure which this one is.”
“Well, I’d like to buy it if it isn’t already spoken for. Or even if it is.”
Russell ran a thumb over his jaw. “Going to be pricey. See, it’s about how many pieces of glass are in it. Every piece… that’s a half hour’s work. Something like that, maybe two hundred pieces? You can do the math. She worked on that eagle every weekend for more than a month, right on through. Not really a good bet, tell you the truth, not that she thinks of that when she gets an idea in her head. Makes a lot more sense to do the easy ones. Most people can’t tell the difference, just looking for something pretty for the front window. They’re not going to pay a couple thousand bucks for a piece of stained glass, or give her more than minimum wage for her time. She could’ve done six easy ones in those six weeks, could’ve sold ’em and been way ahead.”
“Weekends? She doesn’t do it full time?”
“Oh, hell, no. Like you say. Everybody’s got to work.”
“I’d think this could pay the bills.”
Russell looked away, and something changed. Something Blake didn’t understand. Some darkness. And clearly, Blake had got his ideas all wrong.
Hasty,his dad would have said in his cultivated accent.Slow down, son. Think before you move, before you talk, before you act. Slow down and be sure.
Blake hadn’t been too good at slowing down then, and he hadn’t gotten a whole lot better since. He’d kept on running when the rest of the family had walked, jumping into the water when they were still unfolding their towels, asking the girl out while the other guy was still thinking about it, making three deals while another CEO was still weighing the pros and cons of the first one. It was his nature—fast-twitch fibers in the muscle and the brain, if the brain had been a muscle—and it served him well. Most of the time.
Now, he tore his gaze away from his eagle and studied the workroom. “Nice space. Organized.”
“Yeah. That’s my contribution, you could say. Doing the dividers, the frames and that.”
Blake went to the opposite corner, where a compartment held a dozen pieces framed in the same light wood as the eagle, leaning up against each other. “All right if I look?”
“Sure. Just be careful with ’em. You break it, you buy it.”
Blake started flipping through them, then paused. “Whoa.”
