In the House On Lakeside Drive (6 page)

“Talking watches,” Simon said. “I've heard of those, but they're not something I carry in stock.”

“Well, I could tell by the face,” Sam explained, showing off the instrument. “I can open the cover and feel the bars representing the points of the clock. I don't like the idea of breaking the hands, though.”

“What they won't think of next,” the old man marveled. “Now, what did you have left to pick up? Perhaps I can make a few recommendations…at least keep you both out of this weather…”

“I'd like to get something nice for Miss Rachel. And Evan. I sent out my family's things yesterday.”

“Well, Evan's a trick, but I think I can help you with Rachel.” The sound of thick leather soles tapped across the ceramic tile floor, and Sam heard a box shuffle across a table as it was picked up. Soon it was placed in his hand. “Open it.”

He found a pair of small earrings—they had a large round point at the top where the post connected, and underneath that were fine long rays of metallic material that put Sam in mind of the tactile comet installation they had had at the North Kingston museum when he was ten. “Those are cool,” he said. “What color are they?”

“Synthetic emeralds set in sterling silver. I can let you have them for fifteen dollars.”

“I'll take them. Thanks!”

“Anytime. Now, let's see what Rachel's picked out. I'm curious.”

“Me too,” Sam said, following his guide back out onto the showroom floor. They found her with two different watches lying out on the glass case—a large pocket watch that fit inside Sam's palm and a smaller wristwatch with a metallic band that stretched out. Sam's fingers traced the cover of the pocket watch, taking in the brushed feel of the metal casing.

“A pocket watch?” Simon said, his eyebrow raised slightly. “Seems an odd choice, given his line of work.”

“I know, but…” Rachel blushed. “He's got this thing for clocks. Loves 'em. I think there's one in every room of the house now.”

“Not the front living room,” Sam said. “It's quiet in there. I can read without the ticking driving me nuts.”

“Anyway, I know it's something else he has to put in his pocket, but I know he'd love this one. But for practicality's sake, the other one would hold up better. That one he has now is about to fall off him.”

The older man thought a moment, and then started toward a small case near the register. He returned moments later and placed a finely linked rope chain in Sam's hands that put Sam in mind of the velvet cordons they used at the movie theater and the bank. “Something like this would attach the watch to his coat pocket,” Simon explained. “The hook at the top fits into a coat buttonhole, or acts as a claw to hold it onto a belt loop. I know from experience Evan doesn't seem to own a pair of dress pants.”

“I could get this for Evan,” Sam said, fingering the chain. He felt a flat space near the hooking mechanism. “What's this for?”

“Engraving, if you wanted. Usually you'd put the person's initials on it, but others have gotten more creative.

Sam thought about it a minute. “I'd put a puzzle piece,” he said. “Evan has this saying, “Find the right pieces, and you'll have a whole picture.” Plus, I know he does puzzles on this table in the back of the kitchen where I think we're
really
supposed to eat.”

“I gave up on that with my third tenant. He kept eating at the bar table. Couldn't get him to switch,” Rachel said. “Finally it became easier just to make that the kitchen table instead of the formal one.” She weighed the silver watch in her hand, fiddling with the spring-loaded cover and the old-fashioned face. It had little dials for the weather and the time of day—rain, sun, moon, and stars—and also kept an accurate date. “Does this need winding?” she asked.

“Self-winding,” Simon said. “Makes it more expensive, but it's worth it to avoid the hassle of resetting the watch every other day.” He quoted her his asking price for the watch, which was a fraction of the piece's retail price.

“Go on,” Sam encouraged. “I really think he'll like it. Plus, he's gotta have something to go with this chain I'm buying…”

“I'll take it.” She smiled at the thought of Evan's face as he opened it. “Thank you, Simon. So much.”

“My Stephanie was happy the last few months she was here with us. You and Evan made that possible, Rachel, and for that my wife and I can't ever repay you.” The watch and chain were engraved, rung up, and packaged in the store's trademark red and gold bags. “Merry Christmas, both of you.”

Chapter 8

“It needs to go to the left.”

“No, the right. There's too many ornaments on this side.”

Josh turned and faced Remy square. “The reindeer are on the
left
side of the tree.”

“Fine. Let the tree fall over then, because there's too much weight on that side!”

“Guys!” Rachel barked. “In about five minutes I'm going to throw you both out of here and
Sam
will help me decorate the tree!” She heaved a giant sigh. “Remy, I agree—there's too much on that side of the tree. Josh, we can spread the reindeer so that they fall evenly around the other ornaments. Will that work?”

The two verbal sparring partners looked at the tree, and then at the exasperated face of their landlady. “You mean make the reindeer like garland?” Josh finally asked, a confused look on his face.

“Kind of. We can put some here, and here, and here,” Rachel explained, placing several clothespin ornaments with googly eyes and painted noses at random points. “Now it's not so full on one side, and they fit in with the rest of the stuff.”

Bright brown eyes took in the sight of the tree. “Okay! Okay, I get it now!” he said with a smile. “Like when you sprinkle pepper on a salad, right?”

“Right. Too much, and you won't eat it. Spread it around, and it's good.” Remy's face brightened. “It doesn't have to be all one thing in one spot.”

“But how would you find anything if you didn't? There's a spot for shoes, and…and one for the toothpaste…and coats, there's a spot for coats…”

Remy sighed. “And yet I can find things in my room just fine.”

“Your room is a mess,” Josh pointed out.

“It's a system. I know where things are.”

“Like the CD you lost three weeks ago?” Sam asked.

“It's in the pile.”

“Which one? There's like, five of them. And before you say they're alphabetized, I know better. It's my CD, and I have Brailled labels on my stuff.”

Now it was Remy's turn to be exasperated. “Okay, I put it somewhere. I just can't remember where, exactly.”

Behind them, Evan chuckled as he munched on a piece of pizza. “Our luck, we'll find it in the lettuce crisper behind the bricks of cheese.”

“Really?” Sam's face perked up at the comment.

“Beats me. I know one time someone left their iPod there. Come to think of it, it never did work quite right after that.”

Josh laughed. “Why would you put your iPod in the refrigerator?!”

“Tenant at the time had a hard time remembering things. He swore for a week that it was upstairs in his room, even tore the place apart looking for the damn thing. Minute he found it he was looking for a space heater to unthaw it.”

“There,” Rachel said as the last strands of popcorn and tinsel were placed onto the tree. “Done. Hon, you want to kill the lights while I plug it in?”

“Can I do it?” Josh asked. “I wanna plug it in.”

“Okay. Plug it in.”

The lights went dark, and Josh's small hands plugged in the extension cord. Bright multicolored lights twinkled from nearly every branch, and from the handmade ornaments hung alongside of finer pieces made of blown glass and painted porcelain. “Wow,” Josh said, the bits of pink and blue light reflecting off his sandy hair. “That's cool.”

“It is,” Remy seconded. “It's like my dad's tree got bigger.”

“I love the holidays,” Rachel said. “I like the postcard pictures, I like the movies, and I like the fuzzy feeling people get this time of year.”

“Me too,” Sam said. He could feel the warm heat radiating off the prickly object in front of him, and the scent of pine filled the room. “All I have to do is remember that the couch moved.”

“Why would you need to remember that the couch moved?” Josh asked. “It's still in the same spot, more or less.”

“Think about it, Josh,” Remy said, impatience creeping into his voice. “Sam's used to the couch being in a certain place for a reason.”

“Because we never move it?”

“No, because…”

“Because I can't see it,” Sam said, the same impatience starting to color his soft tones. “I can't tell that it's not in the same spot until I reach for it, or run into it. Why do you think I get mad when you move my stuff in the bathroom? It's not like I can just look over and say, “Hey, there's my soap that got moved because someone was in a hurry.” I won't know until I reach for it and it's
not there.
”

“I moved your soap?”

Sam's palm rested square in the middle of his forehead. “I give up. It's like talking to a wall.”

“Well, why are you talking to the walls?” Josh persisted. “It's not like they can talk back.”

“Okay, enough. Keep arguing and there won't be time for making cookies or tossing on that movie you've all been wanting to see,” Evan said, raising his hands in a
cease-and-desist
manner. “I swear, you guys go through more cookies…it's a wonder you're not as round as you are tall.” He grinned.

“Come on. The dough's ready, thanks to Josh, and now Sam and Remy can get the cutters and the decorations,” Rachel said, putting an end to it. “Evan, you're on for the frosting.”

“Oh, come on…”

“Remember what happened
last year
?” Rachel asked, nearly singing the last two words.

“Whoa. Wait. What happened last year?” Remy said, his ponytail snapping back as his head spun to face the pair.

“Yeah, what?” Josh chimed.

“Did you break things, Miss Rachel?” Sam asked.

“If you
must
know, there was this small incident with the milk. And food coloring.”

“The frosting was thinner than one of Maisie Brockard's t-shirts,” Evan said finally. “And Rachel's hands were an interesting shade of blue for about a week.”

“Ugh,” Remy grimaced. “Maisie Brockard. Really?”

“Really. Only just got the poor girl to realize that showing off the leopard print bra and the stretch marks was a turnoff to most guys.”

“Man, Maisie's
ugly
,” Josh said. “And…and she hits on
everything.
”

“Hey, Maisie's nice,” Sam said. “Little relationship crazy, but nice.”

“Oh, don't get me wrong, Maisie's a nice girl,” Remy seconded. “Girl would give you her eye teeth if you needed 'em. But she's…not…pretty. And her taste in clothes doesn't help.”

“Anyway,” Rachel said, clearing her throat pointedly. “Those cookies aren't going to cut themselves. Nor are the little silver balls or the cinnamon noses going to get onto Frosty or Rudolph without help.”

“I'll get the cookie cutters,” Sam offered, heading in the direction of the built-in drawers.

“Sam, why don't you get the decorations instead?” Rachel said. “The sugar tins are in the pantry, the candies and red hots are in a bag underneath the sugar tins, and the food coloring is in the cupboard with the bouillon cubes and onion soup mix.”

Sam sighed. “Making it difficult, huh?”

Rachel shrugged, though it was lost on Sam. “You need to learn how to find unfamiliar things in the house. Don't think I haven't noticed that you tend to gravitate toward the few things you can find and never change them.”

“Change isn't always a good thing, Miss Rachel.”

“Change is a part of life, Sam. People are going to move things. Things will get misplaced. Someone will probably move something from its usual place and make it a pain to find. Do you plan on living like a hermit and never interact with anyone else just so you can find things?”

An impish grin widened on Sam's slightly round face. “There's always the telephone and the Internet. All the fun of people without them moving things on me.”

“I suppose that means you don't want to try the new pizza place next to Gio's? It'd be a whole new layout, unfamiliar seating, and the counter might be at an odd angle.” Rachel's twinkling green eyes were almost laughing, a sight lost on her tenant. “Even Gio himself says it's a good place. Shame. Remy, Josh, we'll just have to bring back a slice for Sam here to eat at home where he knows his way around. Olive pizza's okay with you, right?”