Jennifer Sturman [Rachel Benjamin Mystery 04] The Hunt

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Oh, I said, considering the possibilities with growing enthusiasm. Could we
attach it to Luisa s computer and see what s on it?
That should work, said Peter.
Perfect, I said. Let s go back upstairs.
Um, it s already two-thirty, said Ben.
So? I said.
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So? echoed Peter.
And then I remembered. So we re supposed to meet your mother in half an
hour, I said, glancing at my watch. My heart sank. Finding out what was on
the memory stick sounded a lot more interesting than shopping for place
settings, not that that was such a high bar. Just about anything had to be
more interesting than shopping for place settings.
Are you sure you don t want to reschedule? Peter asked me again. My mom
will understand.
She s not going to have to, I said. Even if I d been willing to tell Susan
about Hilary s disappearance, it didn t seem justified. After all, we still
didn t have any reason to think she wasn t with Iggie, or that Iggie could
pose a serious threat. The interruption wouldn t take that long, and now that
I was normal, I had to make the normal choice, which was to meet my future
mother-in-law, as promised, at Tiffany s.
With admirable restraint, I took the pen-memory stick from Peter and handed it
to Ben. Will you give this to Luisa to check out on her computer?
Okay, he said. And I ll see if I can take a look at the tape from the
surveillance cameras, too. I told the security guys I d stop by their control
center.
Thanks, I said, although I almost wished he hadn t mentioned the tape,
because it only reminded me of something else that would be far more
interesting than shopping for place settings. We ll meet you at four-thirty.
I took Peter s arm and steered him toward the elevator before my willpower
could run out.
7
U nion Square was close enough that we walked the few short blocks, leaving
the Prius on Market Street. In fact, we arrived at Tiffany s early, which only
added to my frustration. We probably would have had plenty of time to check
out whatever was on the memory stick ourselves instead of leaving it to Ben
and Luisa.
At least I had the opportunity to impress Susan with my punctuality, as she
was early, too. We found her in the crystal department with a saleswoman named
Marge who introduced herself as our registry consultant. They were deep in
discussion of the relative merits of different stemware brands and designs.
I d never actually used the word stemware before, nor had it occurred to me to
have opinions about it, but looking at the array of goblets and tumblers
mostly just made me think how much nicer they d look if they were filled with
Diet Coke.
Rachel, dear, how would you describe your taste? asked Susan.
Traditional? asked Marge. Contemporary?
Usually I just trusted the bartender to choose the glass he or she thought
most appropriate for whatever drink I ordered I never specified traditional or
contemporary. Um, well, uh, gee, I said, searching for words. I turned to
Peter, who was the person who actually cooked and poured beverages on those
isolated occasions when cooking and pouring beverages occurred in our
apartment. What do you think?
He shrugged. Whatever you want is fine by me. Then his phone rang and he
pulled it from his pocket and checked the screen. It s the valet service
calling me back I should take this. He wandered off with the phone, leaving
me alone with his mother, Marge and several-hundred stemware options, which
seemed horribly unfair, at best.
It quickly became clear I wasn t ready to make firm decisions about stemware
just yet, nor was I ready to make firm decisions about casual china, fine
china, flatware or even table linens. However, I did learn that my tastes
defied conventional description. I was pretty sure I overheard Marge
describing them as all over the map to one of her colleagues, and it didn t
sound as if she meant it as a compliment. Apparently most brides-to-be came
into the store better prepared than I, having already studied these matters
extensively.
Susan seemed to take my indecision in stride. In fact, she seemed to
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misinterpret it as my savoring the process. You re right, dear, she said.
This is too much fun to rush through on our first trip. There was something
ominous about hearing this outing described as if it were merely the beginning
of a long series of similar outings, but I tried not to think about that. We
left the store loaded down with catalogs, Peter trailing behind us, still on
his phone.
I was relieved to note that not choosing anything for the registry hadn t
taken very long it was barely four o clock. Peter and I would be well ahead of
schedule to meet up with Luisa and Ben. I was opening my mouth to thank Susan
for her help when she opened her own mouth. Saks is right here, she said.
What do you think, Rachel? Do you want to take a quick spin inside and see
what they have? I could use a few fresh things for summer.
Given that summer in San Francisco seemed to call for the sort of clothing
most people wore on Arctic expeditions, I had difficulty seeing how Saks would
be the best place to find what she needed, but she was eager to continue
shopping. I looked to Peter for help, but he didn t even notice, intent on his
ongoing cell-phone conversation. Sure, I said, summoning up a smile that I
hoped appeared as eager as Susan s.
She linked her arm through mine. This is such fun. I can t tell you how many
times I ve wished I had a daughter to do girlie stuff with. Peter had two
older brothers, and they were both married, but one lived in London and one
lived in Hong Kong I guessed their wives didn t afford Susan much in the way
of regular daughterly companionship. Nor did I have the heart to warn her just
how unfulfilling I was likely to be on the girlie front. I might not be able
to describe my tastes in stemware, but I was fairly confident my tastes in
apparel did not run to the girlie.
When Susan had said she could use a few fresh things for summer, she
apparently had meant I could use a few fresh things for summer. Fifteen
minutes later I was in a dressing room with an assortment of items she
believed would look adorable on me. One would expect that someone like her, a
respected attorney with a thriving local practice, would favor the tailored
and professional, but everything she d picked was either pastel or flowered,
and several of her choices were both. I personally preferred black it went [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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