Snake in the Glass by Sarah Atwell Page A

Sit down, Allison—you’re making me nervous with your fidgeting. He’s not here.” Clearly Frank had seen what I had.
    I rummaged in my refrigerator and came up with salsa, guacamole, and chips. And more beer. That would have to do. Allison sat down at the table, looking rather dazed, and Frank settled himself beside her. I dumped all the food and bottles in the center and sat down myself. I didn’t see any point in formality. “So you haven’t heard from Cam?”
    Allison turned to me eagerly. “I tried to call when I reached the States, but all I got was his voice mail. Have you . . . ?”
    I took my anger out on a tortilla chip loaded with salsa before I answered. “Yes, I passed on your message, and he took it just about the way I expected. He said something about a project he was working on and disappeared, last Saturday. I haven’t heard from him since.”
    “Oh my.”
    When I stopped to count, I realized it had been five days now since I’d heard from Cam. “Did you try to get in touch with him to tell him you were coming back?” Or that you were sorry, or that you loved him?
    Allison stared at her hands and shook her head. “That I didn’t. I hadn’t made up my mind, you see, until yesterday, and then I’d just had enough, so I called the airlines and they cobbled together some flights for me.”
    “So you’d had your fill of the McBrides?” Frank asked, a grin on his face.
    “Well, they were all very nice, but . . .” And then she smiled ruefully. “Yes, a little of them goes a long way. Do they never stop talking?”
    “Never. Why do you think I fled to Australia?”
    Happy families, yadda yadda. I broke in on their warm and fuzzies. “Are you planning to stick around this time, Allison?” I was too tired to beat around the bush.
    This time she looked at me squarely. “I am. I’m sorry, Em, for putting you in such a difficult position. It was wrong of me, but I was so overwhelmed by everything, and seeing my mother’s grave and all . . .”
    I put up a hand. “Apology accepted. I know it must have been difficult, taking it all in, especially after so long, and you’re right to have wanted to reconnect with your family. But I’m glad you’re back. As I’m sure Cam will be, whenever he shows up.”
    “Am I still welcome in the shop, then?” she said.
    “Of course you are. And things will start getting busier as soon as this blasted Gem Show is over. Speaking of which, Frank, I think Denis is on to something.”
    “Is he now? Is this what he tells you, or have you seen the results?”
    “He showed me a stone that he pulled out of the kiln. It was a darker green, but the really interesting part was that the core seemed to have changed color, to kind of an orangey gold.”
    That definitely got Frank’s attention. “Really, now? That would be worth seeing. If the color holds stable, and if he can repeat it.”
    “One small glitch, though—he seems to be out of money. His check didn’t clear. I wonder if he could use some outside investors?”
    “Don’t get yourself into that, Em. Might as well pour your money down a rat hole.”
    I thought briefly of my new nest egg—carefully and safely invested. “I don’t plan to, believe me. But if he’s onto something good, somebody should be interested. Anyway, he’s paid me most of what he owes me, in cash. I don’t know if I want to give him any more time, though—I think he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
    Allison had been watching our discussion as though it was a ping-pong match. “Whatever are you talking about?”
    I realized I had probably been indiscreet. Denis had asked me to keep this quiet, and now I’d blabbed about it not only to Frank but also to Allison.
    “This doesn’t leave this room, okay, Allison? A guy from the university came to me earlier this week and asked if he could rent my studio, or more specifically, my kiln, to experiment with altering some inexpensive stones, to see if he could improve