The Dream Thief

Chapter 2-2

Mr. Norwood, Director of the Post for all of Alterra, Loretta reminded herself. He was not overly tall or large or even overly bald or pompous-looking like so many Directors were. This man was past middle age and not trying to hide it, and everything about his appearance was decidedly average. Short gray hair, perfectly tailored pants and jacket, polished black shoes.

Everything except his eyes. Cold and green, Mr. Norwood's eyes bored right through to Loretta's soul.

Roma was again beaming, her hand on her husband's arm and an entirely natural flush on her cheeks. Loretta got to her feet as gracefully as she could.

"Ms. Loretta Schofield, I'd like you to meet my husband, Olsen Norwood."

"Mr. Norwood," she said, this time with a proper bow of her head. "I'm very pleased to meet you, sir."

"Please, dear lady, do have a seat." Mr. Norwood appeared to fuss over his wife, helping her arrange her voluminous skirts, but his gaze never left Loretta's. He sat across from both of them in a high-backed upholstered chair. "We've been so well pleased with your efforts on our behalf over the past few months. I thought it was high time I met such a talented procurer. I did not expect such a lovely young maiden as yourself."

This time, Loretta felt color rising in her own cheeks. She was nowhere near Roma Norwood's age, but she was hardly what anyone would call young. And maiden was not a term she or anyone else had applied to herself since she was barely out of play clothes.

"You are too kind, sir," she said. "I have a strong and loyal network of suppliers who range far and wide for my most valued clientele. Such as yourself."

Mrs. Norwood giggled at Loretta's words, but the only reaction her husband showed was the twitch of an eyebrow. Flattery wasn't gong to work with this one, and flirting with him in front of his wife would likely be disastrous.

"I'm certain that would be an interesting gathering," Mr. Norwood said before he finally focused on his wife. Roma took his blatant cue.

"Ms. Schofield, speaking of gatherings, we're having a sort of a party here in a few weeks’ time," she said. "An after-hours affair, if you take my meaning. When I showed this most delightful addition to our collection to my husband, he was so pleased he suggested we invite you to join us."

She raised her hands, and the light of the fire caught the glass case. Loretta had been so focused on Mr. Norwood that she hadn't noticed the woman was carrying that hideous thing. He cleared his throat, regaining her full attention.

"I can promise you would make the acquaintance of a most interesting circle of friends," he said.

Those disquieting green eyes flashed back to Loretta, and she forced herself to look back without flinching. Nothing about this man put her in a social or relaxed mood. In fact, everything about him had her wanting to get out of here and never darken the door again, no matter how well and willingly he paid.

"Mr. and Mrs. Norwood, I certainly do appreciate the thought and the invitation." She bowed her head again as she got to her feet. "One thing about my endeavors is my clientele are generally eager to remain...unaware of each other. And I am duty and honor bound to respect their wishes. I'm sure you can appreciate how awkward it would be for those who were not in attendance at this party if I were to be recognized in a social situation."

Roma seemed disappointed, but her smile was sympathetic. She put the deformed hand gently on the display table in front of her and drew out a silvery beaded and embroidered purse.

Loretta turned back to Mr. Norwood, who was also standing. His smile was slight and not the least bit sympathetic. His eyes pinned her as effectively as those enameled insect pins. The light green even coordinated with the black of her garments.

"We all must run our businesses as we see fit, Ms. Schofield, of course," he said. "I do hope we'll be seeing you before too terribly much time has passed."

He held out his hand, and Loretta could think of nothing else to do but offer hers. His grip was strong, just on the edge of painful, but not as uncomfortable as his gaze.

"Indeed, sir," she said. "That would be my pleasure."

He stared at her until his wife finished fumbling in her purse, and Loretta remained frozen to the spot. When Roma spoke, her husband abruptly dropped Loretta's hand, turned on his heel, and strode out of the room.

"Thank you again, Loretta," she said. "I look forward to our next visit."

Loretta grasped the older woman's hands, mainly to hide the way her own were shaking.

"Thank you, Roma. I'll be watchful for your next treasure."

Loretta made her escape, walking as quickly across the huge porch and down the stairs as she dared. Once she was out of range of the windows, she increased her pace until she was almost running.

Nothing particularly sinister had happened back there, but every hard-won survival tactic and instinct was on full alert. She had no intention of ever darkening the door of that grand home as long as she lived.

That conviction lasted until Loretta was seated on the trolley and feeling calm enough to open her own black leather purse. She blinked, certain she had left her last p*****t in there by mistake. No, she remembered clearing out her purse the same way she always did before she headed out for a delivery.

Mrs. Norwood had given her more than twice her absurd asking price for that nasty piece of work, nearly three times the ritterns they'd agreed upon. With her husband sitting right there, it could not possibly have been an accident.

Loretta closed the bag, re-secured it in the folds of her skirts, and stared out at the rows of flowers passing her by. She'd taken a lot of difficult actions in her life, and made a lot of harder decisions.

The extreme generosity of Olsen and Roma Norwood had turned an obvious choice into a decidedly more complicated one.