Wine, Dine and Christmas Crimes, Maria Swan [best short novels of all time .TXT] 📗

quick snack at A.J’s.—because of the Camelback detour and the fact that the store carrying out-of-print and rare books about Appaloosas, beaded saddles, and other equine-related topics suggested by my horse boarding connection was located minutes from A.J’s. I’d headed that way to see if I could get lucky. Like the horse expert told me, you never know what you’re going to find.

What I found when I got up from the chair and walked by the empty table next to mine was the daily local newspaper with a photo of a young woman on the front page and a headline screaming Drowning Victim of The Nest in Scottsdale Believed to be in Country Illegally. The victim’s face looked back at me with intensely focused exotic dark eyes that grabbed my attention even knowing those eyes would never again blink, smile, or cry.

“Miss, are you done?” One of the market’s employees was circling the tables, clearing them. I grabbed the newspaper and folded it under my arm.

“Yes, I am. Thank you.” And I headed toward my pink Fiat.

The beveled glass door of the bookstore chimed when I pushed it open. Inside it reminded me of old English living rooms with walls covered by books, mostly hardcover, and comfy chairs here and there. Of course, I had never set foot in a real English living room, but they were a must in old British flicks, and I watched lots of those. And the place smelled like my grandmother’s closet, the one where she kept extra blankets and pillows, dry lavender stems, and mothballs. I could have sat and sniffed for hours. Imagine my surprise when instead of an old man smoking a pipe and wearing a sweater a la Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, the clerk offering to help me turned out to be a Levi’s-and-sweatshirt-wearing millennial. No names were mentioned as I explained in fine detail the kind of man I aimed to impress. Without much hesitation the young man walked to one of the bookshelves and came back with a book. The notable things about it were the dark leather cover, the well-worn corners, all the lettering on the cover and spine that also looked pretty wiped out. But then he opened the book in the middle and placed in my hands, and I knew right away that was the book. The black and white images of horses—mostly Appaloosas caught in motion, their manes to the wind, or simply standing either alone or in the company of native Indians or the occasional cowboy—stirred up emotions I usually saved for the special beings who touched my life in different ways. The book was a lot more than an accumulation of vignettes from the past, it represented the evolution of the spotted breed from cave paintings, mosaics, tapestries, water colors, all the way to the classics in Western art. It brought the story alive.

I bought it. The wise millennial offered to gift wrap it in something any horse lover would appreciate. I hesitated, wanting to write something personal and perhaps unsuitable inside the cover.

He must have read my mind. “It’s a collector’s item.” He looked into my eyes. “Anything added to it would diminish the commercial value.”

I nodded and left the store with my precious book wrapped in some dark stiff papyrus that felt like leather to the touch, but wasn’t. I could have joyfully skipped my way to the car. I didn’t. Hey, this was tony Scottsdale, and I held in my hands the perfect gift for the man of my dreams.

Then my cell chimed.

“Oh, hi, Sunny.” My boss.

“Hello, Monica, hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

“No, we are good. What’s up?”

“I’m sure you’re aware several of our agents are taking time off. Some are in town, others are visiting out-of-state family.”

Where was Sunny going with this? “Mm-hmm” —my vocal nodding since she couldn’t see me.

“Leslie Brown—she hardly comes into the office because she and her sister Leeann work from home, but I’m sure you know who they are—brought bagels to our last monthly meeting.”

Meeting, bagels, sisters. Got it. “Oh, yeah, she always wears hats. I didn’t know that was her sister.”

“They have different last names. Leslie was once married. Anyhow Leslie is an avid skier and left two days ago for a week of skiing in Vail, Colorado. But, she ended up in the hospital.”

“Ski accident?” Why was she telling me this? I didn’t ski. And Colorado reminded me of Max. Good riddance.

“Sort of. She was crouched latching her skis before getting on the gondola when some drunk idiot fell off the arriving gondola and landed on her back. She was flown to the nearest hospital, and her sister Leeann is on her way there to be by her side. They need someone to cover for them for a few days, and I thought of you. They have three active listings and one escrow that already passed inspection and appraisal that’s due to close in ten days. If you are interested, I’ll go above the usual commission split in this type of situation then send to you and Leeann for digital signatures. She will email you the files this evening and enter your name and contact information in the Multiple Listing Service, so any calls regarding the listings will go to you. The last thing they’ll want to do is worry about answering the phone. Apparently Leslie’s back took a hit. Of course the resort is liable for the whole thing, and they are the ones flying Leeann there. Would you like to think about it?”

“Think about it? Nooo. I’m happy to help and thrilled to have something to do. Should I contact Leann or wait? And, Sunny, thank you so much for thinking of me.”

Wow, my day was getting better and better. Three listings? Even if I did nothing until the sisters came back, I would get 10 percent of their commission when they got paid. Yes!!! I couldn’t wait to get home and share the good news with Brenda. Okay, good