Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(81)
Jesse had admitted that no, he did not want that on his conscience, but mentioned that I watch too much television and have a tendency to catastrophize things. If only he knew.
“Nice ride,” Paul said as he slid behind the wheel of the convertible. He adjusted the seat to accommodate his longer legs. “I guess people with graduate degrees in counseling make more scratch than I’ve been led to believe.”
I buckled my seat belt. “Just drive.”
He did as I asked, taking us up Ocean Avenue, downtown Carmel’s main drag, at a breakneck speed. Even though there was still a little less than a week to Thanksgiving, the town council had decided it was never too early to start decorating for Christmas, so tasteful white fairy lights wrapped the trunks of the palm trees up and down the street.
“Ah, Suze.” Paul sighed happily. “Being back in your company is like having a refreshing breeze in my hair. Or maybe that’s the actual breeze. I forgot how freaking cold it gets around here when the sun goes down. Where are we going again?”
I told him the address and pointed. “It’s that way.”
“I’m aware of that, Suze. I used to live here, remember? And once principal construction begins on the new development—well, it’s probably better not to bring that up. You sure you’re not still pissed at me, Suze?”
“Not now that I’ve become more accustomed to the idea,” I lied.
“Well, I just want you to know that you don’t have to worry. If things don’t go the way I’m hoping tonight—but I’m feeling very optimistic that they will—I will do everything in my power to protect you from that boyfriend of yours once he goes all savage beast on you. There’s a safe room on my new jet, you know.”
It was extremely hard to summon up a smile, but I managed. “That’s so sweet of you, Paul. Pull over. We’re here.”
We were lucky to find a parking space. The art galleries and shops tended to stay open late, especially on weekends and holidays, when there were more tourists in town. The owners hoped the window displays would catch the eye of couples strolling down the street after dinner, and that they’d enter the store and buy a coffee table shaped like a couple of leaping gray whales for a mere $40,000.
Delgado Photography Studio was a picturesque little place tucked between a jewelry store and a shop that sold handcrafted women’s clothing made of all-natural materials that even Aunt Pru wouldn’t be caught dead in, if she could afford it, which she couldn’t because the cheapest thing was a scarf for $200.
Delgado’s had a black-and-white theme. All brick, it was painted black to look more avant-garde, with some blown-up black-and-white photos in the window of the sweeping cliffs of Big Sur and crashing surf of Monterey Bay, surrounded by smaller black-and-white headshots of children—mostly girls—staring with intense energy into the camera, their hair windswept or stuck to their round cheeks from sea spray.
I felt the bile rise once again in my throat. Fortunately I still had plenty of antacids in my purse. Among other things.
“This is the place?” Paul asked, looking at the photos in the display window. “These don’t look very sexy. They’re all of kids.” There was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in his voice.
“Just wait. May I have the keys?”
“Sure.” Paul surrendered the car keys, then watched as I went to the back of the convertible.
“What’s in there?” he asked, pointing at the large sports bag I drew from the trunk.
I winked at him. “Supplies.”
Paul grinned. “Whoa. I get it. So this whole thing”—he waved a hand over my outfit—“with the glasses and the suit is a getup for the photo session, and you’re going to change once you get in there? Go from schoolmarm to sex kitten?”
“Something like that,” I said, walking to the studio door.
“Kinky,” Paul said appreciatively. “You know, I like how into this you’re getting, Simon. You’re making me feel kind of bad for what’s going to happen to Jesse when we—” He made a slashing motion under his neck, the same one I’d made to the bartender to cancel Paul’s drink order. Only Paul made it to show how casually he planned to cancel Jesse’s life plans. “Especially since I heard what happened to Father Dominic. I know I said I don’t read the Alumni Newsletter, but I glanced at today’s update, and saw he had a fall.”
“He did.” I joined him at the door, standing only a half foot away from him, my high heels making me tall enough to lift my chin and look him in the eye.
“I’m sorry about that,” Paul said, his face only inches from mine. “I know how much you like that old man. I sent him some flowers, and a donation to the school, since I figured that’s what a decent person would do, and that’s what he’d really like—you, too. And God knows, I can spare the money.”
“That was sweet of you, Paul.” My gaze dropped to his lips. “Thank you.”
“I’m not all bad, you know, Suze,” he whispered. His gaze was on my lips, too. “I mean, I am, of course, but not really. I’m not dark. Not like that boyfriend of yours. I like you, and that has to count for something, right?”
“Does it, Paul?” I asked. “I’m not sure it’s enough, exactly. But you know what I do know?”