The Beckoning of Beautiful Things (The Beckoning Series) Read online

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Marissa’s eyes flicked to the goddess. Is that another glare? A weird, prickly sensation climbed up her back. She shook her head as the gay smile reappeared, fixed in the metal of the bronze cast. Make a note. Examine statues in Daniel’s yard. But first, get to work and remember what normalcy looks like.

  Chapter 25

  Marissa pushed open the door to PS Publishing. Crazy Betty was already there, dabbing at her eyes with Kleenex. She wore a pink, green, and yellow flowered dress and had her “special occasion” pumps on her feet.

  “You’re dressed up, Betty,” Marissa said. Since Crazy Betty often dabbed at her watery eyes, she thought nothing of the Kleenex. “Going somewhere today?”

  “Oh, lord, child, it’s Buddy’s funeral. Me and the girls are going to give him the best funeral a dog could want.”

  “I’m sorry, Betty. So he, um, crossed over?”

  “Wrestled with the reaper, he did. Such a brave little champion.” She pulled another white Kleenex from the blue and gold patterned box and blew hard. “You should have seen him fight for his life. At one point I thought he was going to win. Then the reaper whispered in his ear. He got real quiet so I knew he was listening hard. Then he up and looked at me, thumped his wee tail, and that was that.” She sniffled and blew again. “He’s lying in state now, awaiting the ceremony.”

  “Lying in state? Don’t you mean lying in repose?”

  Betty paused and regarded Marissa over the top of her reading glasses with her old lady eyes. “You do know what lying in state is, don’t you child? That’s what they do for important individuals. I imagine the people your mother left behind needed to see her before she entered the pearly gates. A steady stream of visitors has come by to pay their respects to our dear Buddy.”

  A knot cinched up in Marissa’s belly remembering her cold, lifeless dead mother lying in the coffin of the big Catholic Church over on 42nd. She’d looked like one of Madame Tussauds’ wax figurines lying in the middle of the beautiful church with light streaming through the stained glass windows. It was chilling to have seen the body of her mom absent the spirit. She’d wanted to run over to the coffin, shake her mother, and tell her to wake up. She’d wanted to scream at all the onlookers, “That’s not my mom! That’s only a wax doll that looks like her!” Marissa had avoided churches since then. “I know what lying in state means. It’s like lying in repose only in a government building. I’ve just never heard of doing it for a dog.”

  “Buddy was my beloved. He was also an important member of the community. Best partner a girl could have. And my last husband – he was a carpenter, you know – he made a tiny coffin for Buddy before he passed. It’s the cutest little thing. It’s a big polished Cherry wood square. Buddy lies on his side, wearing his best coat, looking like the angel he is. One of his legs is bent like he’s running from the Reaper. Oh, my little champion!” She dabbed at her eyes.

  Marissa squirmed. “Aren’t there laws as to how you can dispose of your pet?”

  Betty ignored her, chugging down the train tracks of her own thought process. “He was so good with wood, that man. Not to mention his own wood, if you know what I mean. Man was a stallion in bed.” She fanned her face with her hand. “And I was his filly, oh, my, yes.”

  Pink crept up Marissa’s cheeks. “Um, I have to get in to work, Betty.”

  “He gave me a message to give to you before he crossed over.”

  “Did he?” Marissa paused at the door to the back, not really interested in what the Chihuahua had to say.

  “I wrote it down. Hold up a minute. It was important.” She dug around in her huge purse, dropping keys, her wallet, cards, lipstick, tissues, and other sundries on the desk in front of her. One of the items, a ping pong ball with the number N-33 written on it, dropped to the floor and bounced to a stop with a hollow pop, pop, pop. “That was my winning bingo ball,” she said with a chuckle, leaving it to lie on the floor. “Won me the whole pot of cash just last week. I knew it was a sign as I had seen three crows on the fence that morning. ‘Tres mujeres,’ I called them. I knew they were the Reaper’s communication team. I knew they were telling the Reaper, ‘That little champion lives here!’” She blew into her Kleenex. “The winnings are going to pay for Buddy’s funeral. Oh, here it is.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and squinted at her handwriting while Marissa leaned against the door. “Oh, my, can’t read my own chicken scratch. Here – see if you can make it out.” She thrust the paper in Marissa’s direction. “Then, pick up my lucky ball if you please.”

  Marissa squinted and peered at the scrap of paper. “It’s really hard to read. It looks like it says ‘Beware the…’” She cocked her head right and left. “Beware the dark to seize… Yeah, I think that says ‘seize’…seize the light. Beware the light to blind the…” She looked at the old woman. “I’m not getting this last word. Something with a G, H, T at the end. Fright? Blight? Tight?”

  “It’s night, I remember! Read it again.”

  “Beware the dark to seize the light. Beware the light to blind the night.” A tendril of dread snaked around her throat, like one of those pea pods she’d seen in her vision, cinching down on her neck. “What the heck does that mean?” She brought her hand up to her throat and rubbed it hard.

  “I don’t know, it was meant for you, not me. It probably means just because you think something is good, doesn’t mean that it is. Conversely, just because you think something is dark, doesn’t mean it is. That’s my best guess. That’s just off the top of my head.” She waved her hand airily over her gray hair. Her eyes landed on Marissa, and she stared as if she was seeing her for the first time. “My, child, you look different. Whatever happened to you this weekend?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” I watched an eagle take down a rabbit, skinned and prepared the rabbit for supper, oh and there’s that little soul binding thing that went on, too. Let’s not forget reclaiming my light self. She shifted from foot to foot.

  Crazy Betty squinted and swept her eyes up and down, up and down. “You’re in love, aren’t you?”

  Hearing that, heat filled every pore in Marissa’s body.

  “I told you. I told you you’d fall in love, didn’t I? Betty’s always right about these matters.” She cooled her face with her hand. “But there’s something different about you.” She narrowed her eyes at Marissa. “I sense trouble afoot.”

  A sudden chill replaced the heat in her core. “Don’t worry, Betty, things are a little crazy right now, but I’ve got it covered.”

  Ignoring her, Crazy Betty snapped back to the present. “Get my lucky ball, will you child? Oh, you’re taking me back down memory lane. To be in love is such a wonderful thing. Dang it, I’m going to miss my little Buddy.” She grabbed another tissue and pressed it to her eyes.

  Grateful for the distraction, Marissa retrieved the ball, placed it on the desk, and made her way to the door. “Well, see you later. I’ve got to get to work.”

  As she pushed the door to the back room open, she immediately spied Cara in her cubicle, moving her things about. Her stomach instantly tightened. “Can I help you find something?” she said, standing outside the enclosure.

  “Oh, you’re here. Where did you put that schedule of festivals I gave you last week?” Cara was dressed in black everything. Her short dark hair was cut in severe angles, framing her gaunt, haughty face. It gave her a chiseled appearance as if she was an unfinished sculpture. She leaned against the workspace wall and folded her arms, blocking entry.

  Marissa stood stiffly. “I need to get past you to get it.”

  Cara moved to the side an inch or two. “Go ahead.”

  Marissa squeezed into the cube, careful not to touch Cara, and shuffled a stack of papers on her desk. “Here it is.”

  “Good.” Cara snatched it out of her hand and scanned it. “Our town moves like clockwork, doesn’t it?”

  Marissa didn’t bother responding. I’ll just be ign
ored.

  Everyone in Seattle knew that the seasons were marked by festivals. You knew the winter was coming to an end when the Boat Show happened in January and February, followed by the Northwest Flower and Garden Show. Then there was Taste Washington and something called the Moisture Festival, a relatively recent burlesque/comedy event which Jason had dragged her to. The Cherry Blossom Festival kicked off April, followed by the Northwest Folklife Festival and the University District Street Fair in May. Summer was highlighted by Seafair and Bite of Seattle and the fall was heralded by Bumbershoot, one of Seattle’s best music and arts fairs. Marissa had been designing posters, websites, and ads for the various venues ever since she’d been at PS Publishing. She’d been attending the various events ever since she was a child. Now, however, she stood awkwardly, her fingers picking at her fingernails, awaiting Cara’s command.

  “Which one of these would be best for a visiting dignitary?” Cara asked without looking up. She stabbed a couple of choices with her dark blood-red painted fingernail.

  Marissa didn’t answer.

  “Well?” Cara said, staring at the paper in her hands.

  Marissa’s eyebrows arched upward momentarily. Seriously? You want my opinion? “Um, I don’t know. What kind of dignitary?”

  “A Latin American dignitary. He owns coffee plantations throughout South America. He’s buying ad space – a lot, I might add – and is coming here today to meet with me.” Cara looked up and slowly scanned Marissa’s attire up and down and back up again. “You’re dressed casually.”

  “This is what I wear.” Marissa’s hands flew together, and she resumed picking at her fingernails.

  “And you look different. New hairstyle?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  Cara’s eyes narrowed and she regarded Marissa coolly.

  It was weird to be given Cara’s full attention. I think I prefer being ignored.

  “I’ll be showing Mr. Díaz around the office when he arrives. Look your best.” She ran her fingers along her cheeks as if searching for flaws. A quick nod of the head suggested that none were found. “Anyway, he’ll be arriving this afternoon.” Still clutching Marissa’s schedule, she swiftly departed from the small enclosure. Her low pumps clack, clack, clacked along the linoleum until she was out of earshot.

  Marissa proceeded to pour her attention into her work. The hours ticked by. Normalcy. This is normalcy, she reminded herself. She held her hands under her desk and let her fingers spark. And this is so not normal.

  The clack of pricey pumps ricocheted through the office, letting her know that Cara was on the move again.

  Marissa extinguished her fingers just as Cara rounded the corner.

  Without even glancing at her, Cara pitched the schedule at Marissa’s desk and continued on her way.

  After hours of nose to the grindstone page layout, spell checking, and design, Marissa pushed away from her desk. She stretched and readied herself to head out the door to Daniel’s. From the other side of the office, the murmurs of men’s low tones and Cara’s “I’m so in charge here and you don’t have a chance of getting my focused attention unless you have something I want” voice made her peek over the top of her gray cubicle wall. A pleasant looking, older man in a tan business suit stood in the doorway to Cara’s office. Someone’s jean-clad knee poked into view as well. Cara stood behind her desk, gesturing and talking like she was on a Broadway stage. Marissa wondered if she actually practiced in the mirror at home. She slipped back down in her seat, her head cocked in listening mode. Her third eye started to throb and she rubbed it with her fingertips.

  The voices became louder, moving in her direction. She glanced toward the bathroom, wondering if she could slip out of sight. Too close. She hunched down in her seat, hoping they’d pass her by.

  “Hey, baby-doll.” Jason’s head popped over the top of her cubicle, causing her to jerk.

  “Gah! You’re super-glued to my life, Jason. Leave me alone.”

  “No can do. I’m not here to see you. I got a gig showing this coffee grower guy around town. Cool, huh? He seemed to be interested in my expertise as an advanced Tantra practitioner. I told you I was hot stuff.”

  Right. Like I believe you. “How did you get a job like that?”

  “I dunno. I guess the word’s out about my skill. Check out my benefactor. He’s a magic man.”

  Marissa erupted out of her chair like a woodchuck on high alert, peered over the top of the gray wall, and scrutinized the kindly looking gentleman two cubes over speaking with a co-worker. Cara stood to the side glancing at her watch. “He doesn’t look magic to me. More like frail.” She regarded Jason with a squint. “How did you really get this job?”

  “I said I don’t know. Why can’t you be happy for me? You’re not dating me. You’ve got your house surrounded with some voodoo witch magic and you called the Po-Po on me the other night. At least I can do something to occupy my time.”

  Marissa scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Poor, poor you.”

  “Roger said this guy came in asking for me the other day. Said he’d heard about me and wanted to see what I knew about…about…about something. I forgot what he said.” He looked at her sharply. “We could do our mind opening technique later – just as friends – to see what’s in store for me.” A greed-filled smile spread across his face.

  “Not happening, dude. Go away.”

  “You’ve sure gotten bossy since you started dating this new guy. What did you say his name was again?”

  “I didn’t. Now go away.”

  “Mr. Brown?” Cara’s voice sliced the air like a sharp knife.

  “Mr. Brown? So you’re Mr. Brown now?” Marissa just bet Cara was grimacing at Jason as she said that.

  “Right-o.” He leaned over the cube wall and whispered to Marissa, “She is one hot babe. I’m going to do her before the night is done.”

  “Help yourself. She’ll eat you alive. Will it keep you away from me?”

  “Mr. Brown, would you join us please?”

  Marissa could hear the frost in Cara’s voice. She smothered a snicker.

  “Roger that. I’m there.”

  Marissa regarded his retreating back. There was something odd about this arrangement - a coffee grower just mysteriously walking into that sham of a music store and asking for Jason? Cold dread iced her veins.

  “Here is our wonderful graphics department,” Cara said.

  Marissa pictured the fake smile plastered on her boss’s face as she said that.

  “And this is Marissa Engles, one of the layout specialists.”

  Marissa whirled around in her chair and smiled. The chill in her veins spread to her fingers and toes.

  “It’s my pleasure to meet you. Jason has said so many nice things about you.” Mr. Díaz stood regarding her politely. He wore an expensive-looking brown wool. His graying black hair was pushed back from his forehead, greased back with some gel product. He stood about 5’8” and occupied every square inch of his powerful, compact body. He extended a hand in her direction.

  His eyes appeared to be warm but there was something behind them that gave her the jitters. He looks like Beelzebub, noticing everything. “Did he? That’s nice.” She reached out to touch his hand. When her hand made contact with his, an eerie sensation snaked up her arm. It ran up to her elbow and then stopped, as if it had hit a wall.

  Mr. Díaz’s smile faltered slightly. Recovering, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. His eyes sought hers. “Breathtaking.”

  Marissa’s gut twisted into a knot at the eye and lip contact. There was something disturbing about the man. When he released her hand, she wanted to scrub it with Lysol.

  “Would you honor me by joining us for dinner tomorrow night? Where did you say we were going, Cara?”

  “Encantada,” Cara replied. “Yes, Marissa, why don’t you join us?”

  The disdain dripping off of Cara’s tongue almost made Marissa laugh. And it drips to the floor like hydrochloric aci
d, creating chemical burns in the cheap tile. A small scorch mark appeared on the floor. Marissa quickly moved her foot on top of it.

  “Yeah, baby-doll, that would be super.”

  Marissa stared at her desk. “I don’t know. I believe I have plans.”

  “Such a pity,” Mr. Díaz said, in an iced coffee kind of manner.

  Yup, the guy’s is a bona fide creepazoid. Marissa scanned her mind for excuses.

  “I’d be thrilled if you could join us. I’m only in town for a couple of days, and I’d love to hear more about this woman Mr. Brown has spoken so highly of.”

  “I don’t know. I’m pretty busy lately.”

  “She’s got a new beau,” Jason offered conspiratorially.

  “A new beau? That’s wonderful. Love is always a wonderful thing, especially when it’s fresh and strong.” His nostrils flared as if he was sipping the air.

  Fresh and strong? Like coffee?

  “I thought Mr. Brown was your beau?” Mr. Díaz gave her a snake-like smile.

  “We broke up.” She glared at Jason. This is getting awfully none of your business-like, Mr. Díaz, she thought.

  “More like we’re taking a break to see other people. We’ll work things out.” Jason slung his arm over Marissa’s shoulders.

  Marissa plucked his arm off of her and picked up her purse. “I’m expected somewhere right now. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Díaz.”

  “Call me Alexander. Will we have the pleasure of your company tomorrow? You can bring your date.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Marissa,” Cara said, in her “I hate this too, but this is an important account to land” voice. “I’m sure you can find the time to join us.”

  “I’ll have to check my calendar.”

  “I insist. Please join us.” Cara didn’t even pretend to smile.

  “Yes, Marissa, please join us.” Mr. Díaz beamed at her.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Alright then. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Wonderful! I look forward to it!”