Beautiful Beast

Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose and carried the empty bottle to the recycle bin. Eyeing the finished piece critically he decided it was good. It might even be one of the best things he’d done.

For a moment he debated removing the tiny bee he’d added at the last minute. Somehow, it seemed a little too symbolic sitting on a petal, staring at an unopened bud as if wishing for what it couldn’t have. But knowing he couldn’t remove it without disturbing the work, Gabe began cleaning up. Cassiopia never stirred, even when he ran the shower in the bathroom next door.

Dumping his dirty clothes in the washer, he wrapped a towel around his waist and called to her gently. No response. There was no way he could carry her up two flights of stairs tonight. He wasn’t sure he could carry himself to bed, as tired as he felt. It was going on five and he had to be at Denny’s with the bears that were currently cooling in his open kiln by eight.

In the laundry room he found a clean sheet and used it to cover her. A good host would go up and bring her down a blanket. He could live with being a lousy host.

He left a light on for her and headed upstairs. If she decided to search his basement when she woke, she wouldn’t be the first. Like the others, she’d be doomed to disappointment.

Chapter Four

Cassiopia was still asleep when Gabe went downstairs to take the cooled pair of bears from the kiln. He scrawled her a note on the back of one of his sketches and left it in plain sight on top of the desk. He hoped she’d have enough sense not to return to her town house.

There hadn’t been a word from Beacher and he worried all the way to Denny’s place in Hagerstown. The moldmaker was pleased with the bears, but he eyed Gabe with disfavor.

“You look like hell. You sick?”

“No.” Exhausted, but there was no point telling the man that the little sleep he’d gotten in the past two days barely qualified as a nap.

“How’s that custom piece for Rochelle coming along?”

“I finished sculpting it last night.”

“Geez, boy. No wonder you look like that. You don’t have to push yourself this hard.”

Gabe shrugged. “I have a deadline.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you artists are supposed to be eccentric? She’ll expect you to be late. She knows how hard you’ve been working to finish the show pieces.”

Gabe didn’t bother to respond. He’d agreed to Rochelle’s deadline, so he’d make the deadline.

“You are one hardheaded cuss, you know that? When are you picking up the ark sets from the Bailin Brothers?”

“Next stop.”

Denny nodded and eyed the pair of bears. “I still think you oughta consider doing some of these in cold cast. Resins sell well to the mass market.”

“They’d have to be painted.”

“Not necessarily, however, I know someone who could help you there. She’d work cheap.”

Gabe’s lips twisted ruefully. While the old man generally gave good advice and had taught him a great deal about his new career, Denny was a little too concerned with Gabe’s lack of social life for comfort. He kept urging Gabe to get out and make new friends. Gabe would take bets the female artist who would “work cheap” was single and attractive, like Rochelle.

“I’ll think about it,” he temporized.

“You do that, boy. Your work’s too fine to be collecting dust in some basement.”

The words were uncomfortably close to what Cassiopia had told him only yesterday.

He had plenty of time to worry about her and Beacher on the drive into Pennsylvania to pick up the bronzed ark pieces from Tony Bailin. Tony and his brother, Max, did first-class work when it came to casting and they’d done so once again. Gabe liked the two men and enjoyed their company, but today, he found it hard to concentrate on their friendly conversation.

He decided to stop for a late lunch on the way home and used the time to try and reach Beacher again. Still no answer. Worry had become outright concern. It wasn’t like Beacher not to return phone calls. Swinging by his friend’s parking lot confirmed that Beacher’s car still wasn’t there.

Exhaustion vied with worry that was compounded the minute Gabe walked inside his house. Cassiopia was gone. She’d written Thanks in rounded letters beneath his note and signed it with a C. The sheet he’d covered her with was folded neatly beneath the paper sitting on the desk.

He’d have been surprised to find her still here yet it worried him all the same. He checked his caller ID for the number of her cell phone. When the call switched to voice mail he hung up. She’d probably gone to work. As tired as he was, he needed to do the same. Rochelle’s people were due in less than an hour to start loading the showpieces and he hadn’t yet tagged the ones that were staying.

Gabe considered opening the package first, but if it did contain the missing toxin, he couldn’t take the risk. As soon as the packers left he’d try Beacher one more time and then he’d see what his friend had in there.

Rochelle’s men were friendly and efficient. They’d nearly finished crating and clearing the display room when Rochelle herself arrived and greeted him with her usual exuberant hug.

“I am not letting you have both crouching lions,” he warned without preamble.

Rochelle contrived to look hurt. “I didn’t come here for that, but I do wish you’d reconsider. Those lions are brilliant. They exemplify you and your work.”