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The unprepossessing storefront of the corner shop has an understated sign that reads GOODYEAR HEIGHTS ANTIQUES. Being that it’s two blocks off the main thoroughfare, it doesn’t seem to be getting much business. Connor parks across the street, and they sit there in silence for about ten seconds. Then he unbuckles his seat belt.
“Well,” he says, “let’s go antiquing.”
59 • Sonia
She’s not surprised that the Lassiter boy has come here, but she is surprised by the company he’s keeping. That blasted Rewind is the last travel companion she’d expect to see him with. She doesn’t show her surprise though—and she doesn’t show how happy she is to see Connor either. As far as Sonia is concerned, authentic emotions are a liability. They always come back to bite you. Her poker face has served her well over the years, and on many occasions it has saved her life.
“So you’re back,” she says to Connor, putting down a lamp she had just repaired. “And with friends, no less.”
She makes no move to embrace him or even to shake his hand. Neither does Connor. He holds his distance—he too having learned the fine art of defensive dispassion. Still, he’s not as good at it as Sonia. She can tell how relieved he is to be here and how happy he is to see her. Even if he doesn’t wear it on his face, she can sense it in his general aura.
“Hello, Sonia,” he says, then smirks. “Or should I say Dr. Rheinschild?”
This is a surprise. She hasn’t heard the name spoken aloud in years. Her heart misses a beat, but she still doesn’t let the emotion show on her face, and she chooses not to respond to his accusation—for an accusation is exactly what it is—although she knows a nonresponse is as good as an admission.
“Are you going to introduce me to your little posse?” she asks. “Or have you still not learned any manners?”
He starts with the chunky, vague-looking woman who seems out of place in this trio—although to be honest, none of them really seem to fit together.
“This is Grace Skinner. She saved my life a few weeks ago.”
“Hiya,” Grace says. She’s the only one who steps forward to force a handshake on Sonia. “I hear you saved his life too, so I guess we’re in the same club.”
Then Connor reluctantly introduces the Rewind. Sonia, however, stops him before he speaks the name.
“I know who he is.” She steps closer to Cam, peering through glasses as antique as anything else in her shop—the wage of refusing new eyes. “Hmph,” she says. “No scars at all—just seams. My compliments to your construction crew.”
He appears uncomfortable at her scrutiny, although she imagines he’s used to it. “They were surgeons, not construction workers,” he says a bit bristly.
“And they say you speak nine languages.”
“Plus I’ve been studying a few more.”
“Hmph,” she says again, irritated by the arrogant lilt in his voice. “I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that your existence is disgusting to me.”
“Understood,” he says with a resigned sigh. “You’re not the first to tell me that.”
“I won’t be the last, I’m sure—but as long as we understand each other, we’ll be fine.”
Outside a young couple walks by, engaged in conversation. Sonia watches them until she’s sure they’re not coming into the shop. They pass by and she’s relieved. It makes her realize she’s spent too much time in clear view with her visitors.
“Come in the back room,” she tells them. “Unless you want to man the register.”
“I have a lot of questions,” Connor says as he leads the others through the curtain to the back room.
“Then you’ll be disappointed, because I have no answers.”
“You’re lying,” he says, point-blank. “Why are you lying?”
That makes Sonia grin. “A little wiser than when you left, I see. Or maybe just a little more jaded.”
“Both, I guess.”
“And a little taller too. Or is it just that I’ve shrunk?”
He gives her a wiseass smirk. “Both, I guess.”
Then she catches sight of the shark on his arm. It makes her shiver, and she tries to look away, but it commands her attention. “I definitely don’t want to know about that,” she says, although she knows all about it already, from a different source.
