Seven Deadly Samovars Read Free Page B

You bump your head on the ceiling when you get up. And the narrow stairs are only a little better than a ladder. One bathroom for everyone. Wow. I can hardly wait.”
    “It can’t be that bad.”
    “Oh yes it can! Just keep checking all the hotels to see if you can find a cancellation. Hmmmph. There must be a gazillion stairs just to get up to the house. You practically need a Sherpa.”
     

FOUR
     
           “So, what’s that big smile about, Goldie? Talked yer high falutin’ sister into comin’ to Belle’s shindig?”
    “You bet. She reminded me that I’d told Mom and Unk I’d go to Seattle for the Icons banquet. Of course I would have done that anyway. I wouldn’t disappoint the old folks for anything, but now she’s picking up the tab.” Rudy gave her a victory sign, hitched up his striped pants and started toward the back of the shop to continue his tinkering.
    “Hey, Rudy,” Goldie called out, “maybe things are looking up. When I told Godiva about our samovar problem, she even offered to have Angel track them down. That girl is really a whiz.”
    He turned around before disappearing through the beaded curtain. “How ’bout that fancy chef of hers? Is Belle gonna have her Hollywood celebrity at the party?”
    “If I know my sister, she’ll get him to come. You know how she likes to show off.”
    Rudy jabbed his thumb against his thin chest. “Bet my buddies can teach him a thing or two ’bout how an Alaskan cooks a salmon.”
    Goldie chuckled as she pictured one of the grizzled fishermen giving advice to the slick Italian chef. “I wish Mom and Uncle Sterling could come too, but I guess all that traveling really would be too much for them. At least Red’s ship is in port that night. His mother would never forgive him if he missed her big day.”
    “Oh, ya know Belle, she’d have called out the Coast Guard to bring him back to port.”
    “You got that one right! The best part is I’ll have my husband with me for a whole day.”
    “Let’s hope that Angel gal finds them samovars,” Rudy called over his shoulder.
    Midnight padded over and rubbed against Goldie’s leg. A moment later the huge feline jumped into her lap, snuggled up and let out a few enormous puffs of tuna fish breath. “Ooooh, Midnight, we need to do something about your breath. Belle’s friend Molly brushes her cat’s teeth with chicken flavored tooth paste, would you like that?”
    Midnight narrowed his eyes and stuck out his little pink tongue. “Mrrrroowww,” he said and jumped down. He headed for his favorite footstool in the shop window and never looked back.
    The old fashioned phone on the sales counter rang twice. “Silver Spoon Antiques. Goldie speaking.”
    “Oh, Goldie,” Angel said, “I had to call you right away. You’re not going to like this. I’m afraid your samovars may be toast.”
    An involuntary shudder ran through Goldie’s body. “Toast?”
    “Yep, as in burned to a crisp. I found an article online from the Vladivostok newspaperthat said Minsky and Pinsky’s warehouse burned to the ground two weeks ago.”
    Goldie let out a gasp.
    “It gets worse. It looks like your importers died in the fire along with all their employees. A real tragedy. They think it was arson; everything was a total loss. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this.”
    It took Goldie a moment to compose herself before she said, “Oh, no! Poor Uri and Vladimir! I never expected anything like that.”
    When Angel spoke again, her voice brightened, “Goldie, there is one glimmer of hope. Maybe the samovars were sent out before the fire. I sweet-talked the guys at Pistov Forwarders and they agreed to at least check and see if they received that shipment. I figured, who knows? You’re supposed to call a…a Mr. Slackanov. He’s the one going through the bills of lading. Let me know what happens.”
    Goldie looked up the number for Pistov while mumbling to herself about the moon being on Mars and other astrological