The floor was stone, and there was no way I could organize a respectable rehab in two weeks. Treatments and wallpaper, I can always swiftly source the materials; and the crews around here are hungry for overtime. Stone is just a different creature altogether.

God bless her, Shelly had prophesied this move. She thought that once we had the Great Room fixed up Mrs. McB would realize the entryway would look out of kilter. So, Shelly had already roughed out a first, second and third place fabric choice for the wallpaper. All I had to do was match up the window treatments.

I finished grinding through the numbers by ten, just as it started to rain. Started looking at inventories online around eleven. Just before Midnight I slipped over to CoHo and grabbed a 16 oz Haitian. Rain was just a quick thunderstorm, enough to make me throw my hood up over my hair. Still, didn't have to cinch the drawstring tight; no use messing up the hair anymore than needed. Still too early to snow, thank the Lord.

I parked the Corolla in the alley back of our shop when I got back so I could just zip in and out without lugging everything from my office all the way out to the street. Too many doors. Stupid, I know. Alleys in cities are dark and you never know when some drunk will be lilting about. But our little shop is three blocks away from the closest bar, and usually any of the chronics tend to migrate toward the big weed patch by the tracks. The college kids seem to sail/go/breeze back toward their frats.

The coffee kept me going until 2:30. I verified that everything I had suggested was in stock and I could get it here this next week. I cranked out the lights and went out to get in the car. The appointment with Mrs. McB was at noon, back at her place. My arms were overflowing with fabric swatches and paint chips.

Something strange was in the alley out back.

I was caught with my guard down. My arms were full, keys dangling from my hand. I wished I had one of those newer key fobs that opened the trunk and doors and had a little red alarm button. Not mine. The Corolla came with a valet key (valet lock???) and a cute leather tab with the Toyota logo embossed on it.

Fight or flight. I was tempted to run. My mind screamed run! But weighed down with the awkwardness of my multiple bundles I knew I wouldn't be very fast. And dammit, I'd worked all day on this project, and I was way tired to start from scratch if I ruined my swatch books by dropping them on the wet cobblestones. I can charge Mrs. McBride about a 50% extra margin on this job for all the overtime and extra hassle (and yes, I told her that up front, Journey). No way was I running.

So I walked to the Corolla, insides churning wildly. I unlocked the doors, and pulled open the driver's side rear door. I could hear my footsteps squish against the cobblestone. I yearned for my Nikes instead of my work flats.

Page 3.