A Different Blue(59)

gathering capabilities.

I had practiced on every log, branch, and tree I could get my hands on, but it wasn't like there

were vast forests surrounding me. I lived in a desert. Fortunately, Boulder City sat higher up

at the base of hills with mesquite growing in enough abundance that I could forage and pretty

much take what I wanted. I became pretty good with a chain saw. Nobody cared about the scrubby

mesquite anyway. And I have to admit, cutting it down was therapeutic in a very gut-level way.

Within a year of getting a job at the cafe, I had sold a few of my pieces and had ten or so

pieces lining the shelves of Beverly's little shop at all times. Three years later, I had a nest

egg of several thousand dollars.

I was working the Thursday dinner shift one evening when Mr. Wilson came into the cafe with a

pretty woman in a big fur coat. Her hair was a mass of blonde curls pinned up on her head, and

she wore little diamonds at her ears as well as black stilletos and fishnet stockings. She was

either coming from somewhere uber fancy or was one of those women who had never outgrown dress-

up. The fur coat was so out of place in the cafe's southwest décor that I found myself trying

not to laugh as I approached their table to take their order. She shrugged out of her coat and

smiled up at me brightly when I asked them if I could bring them something to drink.

“I am so thirsty! I'll have a whole pitcher full of water, luv, and a massive order of nachos

if you have them just for starters!” she chirped in accented supplication. She was British too.

I looked from Wilson to the woman and back again.

“Hello, Blue,” Wilson smiled up at me politely. “Blue is one of my students, Tiffa,” he

offered, introducing me to the woman across from him.

Tiffa's eyebrows shot up in disbelief as she gave me a quick once over. I had the feeling she

didn't think I looked like a student. Her hand shot out, and I took it hesitantly.

“Are you the one who took the gun from that poor boy? Wilson's told me all about you! What a

beautiful name! I'm Tiffa Snook, and I'm Darcy's, er, Mr. Wilson's, sister. You'll have to tell

me what to order! I could eat a unicorn and pick my teeth with his horn! I'm absolutely

famished.” Tiffa rattled all of this off in about two seconds flat, and I found myself liking

her, in spite of her fur coat. If she hadn't mentioned the family connection, I would have

thought Darcy liked older women.

“Tiffa is always famished,” Wilson added dryly, and Tiffa snorted and threw her napkin at him.

But she laughed and shrugged, conceding the point.

“It's true. I am going to have to run for hours to work off those nachos, but I don't care. So

tell me, Blue, what shall we order?”

I suggested several things, wondering all the while what Tiffa Snook exercised in if she wore

fishnets and a fur coat to eat at the cafe. I could just see her clomping on the treadmill in

heels and a baby seal-lined sweat suit. She was as thin as a rail and quite tall, and she exuded

energy. She probably needed to eat like a horse – or a unicorn – just to fuel her energy

level.

[page]I found myself watching Wilson and his sister throughout their meal, and it wasn't just

because I was their waitress. They seemed to enjoy each other's company, and their laughter

filled their corner frequently. Tiffa was the one who seemed to do the majority of the talking,