Evening Stars. Susan Mallery
her mother for as long as she could remember, and the lessons never seemed to stick. No matter how many times Bonnie promised to do better, she never did. Which left Nina picking up the pieces.
“I kind of am. Why?”
“I haven’t been to Pilates in a week,” Andi said. “It’s important I keep exercising. Would you go with me? It’s more fun when you’re along.”
“I can’t tonight, but Monday’s good.”
Andi smiled. “Thanks, Nina. You’re the best.”
“Give me a plaque and I’ll believe it.”
“I’ll order one today.”
* * *
Nina counted out the number of happy fruit and vegetable stickers she had. Just enough, but she would have to order more.
Since opening her practice, Andi had started a program of inviting local elementary school classes into her office as a field trip. Kids learned about a basic exam, were able to use the stethoscope and check their weight and height in a nonthreatening atmosphere. Andi’s goal was to make a visit to the doctor less stressful.
Nina handled the scheduling and conducted the tour. Each student left with a small goodie bag filled with the stickers, a small coloring book on different ways to exercise and a box of crayons.
Normally the gift bags were filled by their receptionist before the event, but she had forgotten the stickers last time, so Nina had taken over the task.
She was in the middle of lining up the open goodie bags for quick filling when her cell phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket and checked the name, then pushed speaker and set it on the break-room table.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Sweetheart! How are you? We’re fine, but you were right, as you usually are.”
Nina grabbed crayons from the big bag of them on the chair. “Right about what?”
“The tires. That we should have replaced them before we left. We had snow last night.”
Nina glanced out the window at the sunny skies. She could see a few clouds pilling up against the horizon. Rain later that afternoon, she thought.
“Where are you?”
“Montana. It was coming down like you wouldn’t believe. We had about four inches, and the tires just couldn’t handle it. We skidded off the road. We’re fine now. Bertie found a Les Schwab store and the man there was just as nice as the one back home.”
Nina sank onto the only free chair in the break room. “You were in a car accident?”
“No. We skidded. Not to worry. We’re fine. The new tires are very nice. We went to several estate sales and more antique stores than I can count. We’re filling the van with so many beautiful things. You’re going to love what we’ve found.”
She kept talking. Nina closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, telling herself that her commitment to eat her brownies one at a time had not made any reference to wine, and when she got home that night, she was taking a bath and having a glass. Then she’d have her breakdown.
Bonnie Wentworth had given birth to her oldest at sixteen. She hadn’t settled down when she’d become a mother, and she sure wasn’t settled now. Bonnie and her partner, Bertie, traveled the country on “buying trips” for their antique store. Antique being defined very loosely in this case. Junk was probably more accurate, but even Nina avoided the “j” word as much as possible.
She drew in a breath as her mother talked about a handmade doll Bertie had found.
“Mom, Tanya was caught trying to sell inventory to Jerry this morning.”
Bonnie paused. “No,” she said, sounding stunned. “I don’t believe it.”
Nina resisted the need to point out that Bonnie never believing it was the main problem.
“This is why I want to do the interviewing. Or, if not me, then at least let Bertie do it.”
“Are you sure she wasn’t selling something of her own?” Bonnie asked. “She seemed like such a nice girl. I hate to think of her doing something like that.”
“Me, too. You know this means the store’s closed.” Again.
There was silence. “Do you want us to come back? We could be there in a couple of days.”
“No. I’ll find someone.”
Nina knew that if she asked, her mother would come home and run the store while they found someone. But then Nina would feel guilty, like she did now. And for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.
“Sweetheart, you take on too much.”
Nina opened her mouth and closed it. Right. Mostly because no one else was here to do it. “Mom, it’s fine. But we need someone in the store who’s responsible and can work without stealing.”
“You’re right. There must be someone, and I’m sure you’ll find her.”
“I will. Did you call on the roof? Is the guy coming out to fix it?”
“I did call.” Her mother sounded triumphant. “It’s taken care of.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
“I’ll call in a few days. By then we should know when we’ll be home. Bye.”
Nina heard the click and knew her mother had hung up. Before she returned to the goodie bags, she called the local paper.
“Hi, Ellen, it’s Nina Wentworth.”
The old woman cackled. “Let me guess. You need someone to work at Blackberry Preserves. I have the information from the last ad, which is the same as the one before and the one before that. Want me to run it?”
Nina glanced out the window again. The storm clouds were closer. She could see a bit of the Sound and wondered if she got on a boat right now, where she would end up.
“That would be great,” she said instead. “Thanks, Ellen.”
“You know, Nina, you’ve got to stop letting your mama hire people for that store.”
Nina tightened her grip on the phone. “Yes, I know.”
* * *
Nina stared at the items in the box. The candlesticks were silver and actually worth something. There were also several pieces of jewelry, a few with gems. The painting was a cheap reproduction and worth less than the frame, but still...
Jerry nodded as she inventoried the haul. “I was thinking the same thing,” he told her. “How could a girl smart enough to know what to steal be dumb enough to come to me? Why didn’t she just drive over the bridge and head toward Seattle? Another forty minutes in the car and she could have had the cash and been on her way.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” she admitted. “But I’m glad she was impatient. Was Sam Payton by?”
“Yup. He took pictures. He said he needs to know what the candlesticks are worth.” Jerry, a chubby, balding man in his sixties, nodded knowingly. “If it’s over five grand, then Miss Tanya has committed a Class B felony. If she gets the maximum, it’s a ten year prison sentence with a twenty thousand dollar fine.”
“You’re very knowledgeable about felonies and the law.”
“In my business, it pays to know that sort of thing.”
Nina picked up the box of items from the store. “I’m going to have to call Sam, aren’t I? He’s going to tell me I can’t sell these until the case against Tanya is settled, right?”
“I