Chronicles Of The Keeper - Summon The Keeper Part 25

"Spare me the fortune cookie plat.i.tudes." Searching for at least the illusion of fresh air, Claire walked over to the windows. Outside, the wind hurried up the center of the street, dragging a tail of fallen leaves, and directly across the road two fat squirrels argued over a patch of scruffy lawn. It was strange to feel neither summons nor site. Because of the s.h.i.+elds, she had to keep reminding herself that this was real, that she shouldn't be somewhere else, doing something else.

The sound of Dean's work boots approaching turned her around to face the lobby.

"Hey, Boss, find anything?"

"No more than on the last two times you asked."

"Would lunch help?"

"Helps me," Austin declared, leaping down off the counter.

Claire's stomach growled an agreement. Out voted, she started toward the door to Smythe's old suite. "Just let me wash up fir..." The sound of her s.h.i.+n cracking against the bottom drawer of the desk drowned out the last two letters. Grabbing her leg, she bit back her first choice of exclamation, and then her second, and then there really didn't seem to be much point in a third.

"Are you okay, Boss?"

"No, I'm not okay." Air whistled through clenched teeth. "I'm probably crippled for life."

A LIE!.

AN EXAGGERATION.

CAN'T WE USE IT ANYWAY? h.e.l.l asked itself hopefully.

OH, DON'T BE SUCH A GIT.

"And you know what the worst of it is?" The question emerged like ground gla.s.s. Claire tugged her jeans up above the impact point. "I closed the drawer. I know I closed the drawer."

Obviously, she hadn't, but Dean knew better than to argue with a person in pain. "Here, let me look at that, then." Ducking under the counter, he dropped to one knee and wrapped his hand around the warm curve of Claire's calf.

Her first inclination was to pull free. Her second...

NOW THAT WE CAN USE.

Reminding herself of the age difference, she banished the thought.

d.a.m.n.

"You didn't break the skin, but you'll have some bruise." Stroking one thumb along the end of the discoloration, he looked up at her and forgot what he was about to say.

"Dean?"

The world s.h.i.+fted most of the way back into focus. "Liniment!"

"No, thank you. You can let go of me now."

Feeling his ears begin to burn, he s.n.a.t.c.hed both hands away, then, suddenly unable to cope with six inches of bare skin, lightly stubbled, reached out again and yanked her jeans back down into place.

"Watch it!" One hand clutching her waistband, she grabbed his shoulder with the other to stop herself from falling.

Stammering apologies, Dean stood.

Things got a little tangled for a moment.

When a minimum safe distance had been achieved, Dean opened his mouth to apologize yet again and found himself saying instead, "What's that noise?"

"It's a cat," Claire told him. "Laughing."

Claire refused to be constrained over lunch. So what if Dean kept his gaze locked on the cream of mushroom soup, that was no reason for her to act like a twenty-year-old. Biting into a sandwich quarter, she swept a critical gaze around the dining room.

"This is ugly furniture," she announced after chewing and swallowing. "In fact, it's an ugly room."

Grateful for a change of subject, even though the original subject hadn't actually been broached, or even defined. Dean acknowledged the pitted chrome and worn Naugahyde with a shrug. "Mr. Smythe wouldn't buy anything new."

"It's not new we need." Claire tapped a fingernail thoughtfully against the table. "I'll deny this if you repeat it, but Mrs. Abrams gave me an idea that could bring in more guests."

"Is that a good idea?" Austin asked, jumping up onto an empty chair. "You're a Keeper, remember? You have a job."

"And I'll do my job, thank you very much," she snapped, turning to glare at him. "But a short break before I face the chaos in that sitting room won't bring about the end of the world." She paused and considered it a moment. "No. It won't. Besides, I have no intention of allowing this hotel to slide any farther into oblivion during my watch. There's a hundred things that need to be done, that should've been done years ago. If Augustus Smythe had kept busy, he'd have been happier."

The cat snorted. "Have you seen the rest of those postcards? He kept plenty busy."

"He kept one hand busy at best." Claire put down her spoon and folded her arms. "He was a disgusting little voyeur. Is that how you suggest I fill my time?"

"Actually, I was about to suggest you share your soup with the cat."

"I still don't understand what we're doing." Dean twisted the key around in the attic lock and dragged the door open. "There's nothing up here but junk."

"The furniture in the dining room is junk," Claire amended. "The furniture in the attic is antique." Switching on the larger of the two flashlights, she ran carefully up the spiral stairs.

Dean watched her climb, telling himself it wasn't safe to have both of them on the stairs at once and almost believing it. When she stepped off the top tread into the attic, he followed her up.

"Look at all this!" Although sunlight streamed in through the grime on the windows, the volume of stored furniture kept most of the attic in shadow. The flashlight beam picked out iron bedsteads, washstands, stacks of wooden chairs, lamp shades dripping with fringe, and rolls of patterned carpet. "Nothing's been thrown away since the hotel opened."

"And nothing's been cleaned since it was put up here."

Thankful that they'd found the accident site before they'd had to spend days s.h.i.+fting clutter, Claire turned the flashlight on her companion. "What is it with you and this obsessive cleaning thing?"

"It's not obsessive."

"It's not normal." She pointed the flashlight beam toward room six, one floor below. "You even wanted to dust her."

"So?" Reaching down, Dean effortlessly s.h.i.+fted one end of a carpet roll out of his way. "My granddad always said that cleanliness was next to G.o.dliness."

Cleanliness was living next to a hole to h.e.l.l, but Claire hadn't changed her mind about letting him know it. Not even if he flexed that particular combination of muscles again. "See if you can find the old furniture from the dining room."

"From the look of this place, we'd be as likely to find the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail."

She shuddered. "Don't even joke about that."