Snake in the Glass Read Free Page B

event—if you are into gems, which I am not. The event, or rather, events, takes over the entire city for two weeks every year. There are hundreds of vendors and dealers who show up and occupy fifty or so venues, and snap up every hotel room for miles. And that doesn’t even include the visitors, or as they are sometimes known, treasure hunters. One might think that a small business person such as myself would welcome this influx of potential customers, but alas, they were all focused on gems, and not easily diverted. The net result was that business for the rest of us Tucson artisans was pretty much flat during the first two weeks in February, which is why I felt I could leave for a week to take a vacation of sorts, and why I could install and test new equipment. And the added benefit this year was that Frank Kavanagh was coming to see the show. I really liked Frank, an Australian diamond dealer and a real charmer. So, apparently, did Nessa.
    I stood in the midst of my studio and stared at the new furnace against the back wall. Glass furnaces are seldom pretty things, and this was no exception. But it was clean and whole and, I hoped, properly connected. There was only one way to find out, so I loaded up a new crucible with clear glass, set it in place, and studied the control panel, tweaking a few settings before turning it on. I looked at my watch—I needed to know how long it would take to come to the right temperature to melt the glass. But the interior was glowing nicely. So far, so good.
    I could see through the window between the shop and the studio that Nessa had come in and was setting up for the day. I turned my back on the furnace to return to the shop.
    “Morning, Nessa. Listen, if Allison is going to be gone for a while, we’ll need to work out some sort of coverage for the shop, although things should be pretty slow while the Gem Show’s on. I can cover some of the time, but I should do some work and build up my inventory of glass, or you won’t have much to sell when business picks up again.”
    Before she had a chance to answer, I heard the front door open and close again, and turned to find Cam. Oh no. I wasn’t ready to talk to Cam. Unfortunately I had no choice.
    “Hi, Em, Nessa. Em, you were snoring away when I came in last night. What were you saying about Allison? She hasn’t answered my phone calls.”
    Nope, no way around it. I took a deep breath. “Cam, it’s great to see you. I can’t wait to tell you about the trip, but first I have to talk to you about Allison.” I glanced at Nessa, who was suddenly very busy dusting the glass shelves. “Let’s go upstairs.”
    Cam gave me an odd look, then followed me wordlessly out of the shop, up the stairs, and into my home. He barely let me get through the door and shut it before he turned and confronted me. “Is she all right?”
    “She’s fine, Cam. It’s just that . . . Why don’t we sit down?”
    He remained standing. “Em, you’re waffling, and that’s not like you. Where is she?”
    I swallowed. “She’s still in Ireland. She wanted to stay a little longer, since she hasn’t been there since she got out of school, and there are so many relatives to catch up with. . . .”
    Cam was staring at me, his eyes cold. “When is she coming back?” he said tightly. “Or maybe I should ask, is she coming back?”
    Trust Cam to get right to the point. “Cam, I don’t know. It all just came up, and she asked me to tell you—”
    He interrupted me, and now I could see that he was angry. “She asked you to tell me? She didn’t have the decency to pick up the phone and talk to me?”
    “I think she wasn’t sure how to tell you, and she didn’t want to hurt you, so . . .”
    “. . . so she took the coward’s way out,” he said, finishing the sentence for me. “And she let you do her dirty work, after all you’ve done for her.” I’d never seen my brother so angry and so icy at the same time.
    “Cam, listen to me! She just