Houses of Stone, KATHY [classic literature books TXT] 📗

and he said brusquely, "Real estate, insurance, sales rep, you name it. Anything to make a buck."

Karen couldn't tell whether he was jeering at himself or her. Her question hadn't been meant as a snub or a sneer, but she could not altogether blame him for taking it that way. Apology or explanation would only make matters worse, she decided ruefully.

"I've no intention of moving out," she said. "Why should I waste time apartment hunting? It's only for a few weeks."

"If that's what you prefer," Cameron said. "Just let me know."

He started to turn away. Peggy, who had followed the exchange with a poorly concealed smile, said quickly, "One question, Cameron. Where are your folks buried?"

"What?" Then his scowl turned to the smile Peggy could usually induce. "Oh, I get it. Peggy, that old cemetery is as wild and overgrown as the estate. I assume you want the old one? Nobody has been buried there for fifty years. You don't want to go out there."

She grinned back at him without speaking. Cameron laughed and took a notebook from his pocket. "You do want to go out there. All right. I'll draw a map for you. You want Gothic ambience, you'll get plenty."

Simon leaned against the tree and reached for a cigar. He looked as neat and relaxed as he had eight hours earlier. Karen glanced down at her wrinkled, dusty pants and decided a few grass stains couldn't worsen their appearance. She sat down cross-legged at Simon's feet. "I assume everything is under control or you and Peggy wouldn't be loitering here."

"Oh, yes. We carried a few of her miscellaneous purchases out to her car and were on our way back when we saw you. Relax and enjoy the fresh air. Would you care for coffee, or something to eat?"

"No, thanks."

Sunlight sifted through the leaves in a scattering of gold. The shadows deepened as the sun sank lower. The air was very warm, but a breeze ruffled Karen's hair and cooled her cheeks. From inside the tent she could hear the drone of the auctioneer's voice. People wandered in and out, carrying boxes, stopping to chat or resting in the shade. A large brown dog of indiscriminate breed wandered around looking for scraps, its tail wagging hopefully. One young woman pushed a stroller; the tow-headed child within lay in a sprawl of arms and legs, its mouth gaping in infantile slumber. There were other children in the crowd; most of them were whining and tugging at parental skirts. Bored out of their skulls, poor little things, Karen thought sympathetically.

She saw Joan first; that redhead was hard to miss, especially when it dazzled with sunlight. She held a sandwich in one hand; the other hand had a firm grip on Bill Meyer's arm.

"Here he is," Joan announced. "I told him you wanted to thank him."

In the bright light his face looked even worse than Karen had realized. He started to smile and winced, almost imperceptibly, as the muscles around his mouth stretched.

"That's not why I let Joan drag me here," he said quickly. "I thought you ought to know I saw Dorothea heading for the parking lot just now. She'd left her jacket on her chair and she wasn't carrying anything, so I couldn't help wondering—."

"Aha!" Peggy cried. "Simon, she saw us taking those boxes to my car. Hurry, maybe we can catch her in the act."

"Come now," Simon protested. "There is nothing she can do. The car is locked. And you have no reason to suppose—"

"I just thought I'd mention it," Meyer said humbly.

Peggy was already on her way. "I'll go after her," Simon said with a sigh.

"I'd better go too," Karen said, glad of an excuse to leave. She felt uncomfortable—not angry or wary, as she usually was with Bill Meyer, just . . . uncomfortable. He appeared to be as embarrassed as she, and Joan was beaming at them like a marriage broker.

Karen cleared her throat. "I did want to thank you, Bill. I haven't had a chance before this. I hope you feel better than you look."

"Don't make me laugh," Meyer begged, raising a hand to his cheek.

To her annoyance, Karen felt herself flushing. "I suppose I could have expressed it more gracefully. If you hadn't acted so promptly I might be nursing something nastier than a scraped face. I'm very grateful."

"I'll settle for that," Meyer said softly. His eyes lingered on her face. "In the hope of better things to come."

Cameron cleared his throat. "Do you want me to go after Peggy and Mr. Hallett?"

Meyer said easily, "Oh, hello, Hayes. I didn't see you. Thanks, but I don't believe your assistance will be necessary."

"Now he's offended," Karen muttered, as Cameron walked away without another word. "Excuse me, if I'm going to catch Peggy, I'd better hurry."

"What did I say?" Meyer demanded, trotting after her.

"Nothing. Forget it." She broke into a run.

She had no difficulty finding the people she sought. The sound of voices could be heard a long way off. There were only two voices— Dorothea's booming and loud, Peggy's higher in pitch, but no less penetrating. They were standing at the back of Peggy's car and when Karen first caught sight of them she feared armed combat was imminent. Peggy, her back to Karen, held what looked like a crowbar. Dorothea needed no weapon; if she had flung herself on the smaller woman she would have covered her entirely and left not a square inch showing.

"Oh, there you are, Meyer," Dorothea said, without moderating her voice. "Take this crazy dwarf away before I murder her, will you? I caught someone trying to break into her car, and this is the thanks I get."

"You were the one who was trying to break into the trunk," Peggy shouted, brandishing the heavy piece of metal. "You threw the tire iron under the car when you saw me coming."

Simon stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets. Catching Karen's eye, he shrugged. "I tried, Karen. Perhaps you