"I understand."
"Thank you for the delicious tea."
Vonda Dudley Wix escorted him to the door and said goodbye with effusive expressions of goodwill, and Qwilleran went on his way with smug satisfaction at his handling of the interview.
Returning to Tiptop, he prepared for the visit of Sa-brina Peel with somewhat more enthusiasm, chilling wine glasses, re-hanging the mountain painting, placing the iron candelabrum alongside the Fitzwallow chest. He also took care to move the secretary desk back across the door to J.J.'s office; someone had a reason for wanting him to keep out, and he thought it wise to preserve appearances.
Promptly at one-thirty the designer arrived with a van-load of accessories and a young man named Jimmie to carry them up the twenty-five steps. There were wall hangings, toss pillows, a pair of eight-foot folding screens, accent rugs, lamps, and boxes of bric-a-brac.
She said, "You don't have to buy these things, you know. They were on the floor in our studio, and I'm renting them to you. The florist is on the way here with some rental plants. Do you intend to do much entertaining?"
"I might have one or two persons in for drinks, that's all," Qwilleran said.
"Then let's close the French doors to the dining room and bank some large plants in the foyer ... I never saw that before!" She pointed to the seven-foot, eight-branch iron tree.
"I bought it from the blacksmith in Potato Cove."
"You have a good eye, Qwill. It shows some imagination, and it's not overdone. Happily it distracts the eye from that hideous Fitzwallow huntboard, which I hasten to say did not come from our studio."
"You call it a huntboard? That's appropriate. My cat is always hunting for something underneath it."
"You didn't tell me you have a cat."
"I have two Siamese, and they're up there on the stairs, watching your every move."
"I hope they're not destructive," the designer said, and she called up to them, "If you scratch it, kids, you've bought it!"
"Yow!" Koko retorted.
"He's a sassy brat, isn't he?" said Sabrina. "Now let's go to work on the living room. We'll create a more intimate setting by stopping the eye with folding screens as room dividers."
Qwilleran watched her work with manifest enjoyment as she whirled around the room, her pleated skirt swirling about her knees and her silky mop of hair swirling around her shoulders. With crisp authority she directed Jimmie in placing screens, grouping chairs, skirting tables, setting up lamps, throwing throw rugs, tossing toss pillows, and hanging wall hangings. She herself arranged brass candlesticks, ceramic bowls, carved boxes, and stacks of design magazines. When she had finished, the room looked inhabited by a person of taste, although not necessarily Qwilleran's taste. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the metamorphosis.
Then the florist arrived with indoor trees and large potted plants.
"Do I have to water these things?" Qwilleran inquired.
"No, sir," said the florist. "For rental plants we send a visiting nurse once a week to test the soil for moisture."
As the room was transformed, Koko's curiosity overcame his misgivings, and he watched from the archway. Yum Yum held back, poised for flight.
Qwilleran said to Sabrina, "Would you stay for a glass of chardonnay?"
"I'd love to," she said without hesitation. "Jimmie can go back downtown with the florist . . . Jimmie, tell Mr. Poole where I am, and if my four o'clock client comes in, tell her I'm running late. Give her an old magazine to read." To Qwilleran she explained, "She's my doctor's wife, and revenge is sweet."
Sabrina with her chardonnay and Qwilleran with his apple juice sat in the portion of the living room that was now pleasantly secluded by screens and plants. It was made comfortable with chatty new furniture groupings and made lively with red and gold accents.
"My compliments to the designer," he said, raising his glass. "I hope the screens are sturdy; the cats are sometimes airborne when they're in a good mood."
"You'll find them quite stable," she assured him. "They were custom-made to do heavy duty in the studio. What are you building in the woods?"
"A screened gazebo, so the cats can take an airing if it ever dries up. No one told me it rains so much in the mountains. Also, no one told me that Hawkinfield had been murdered."
"Didn't you know?" Sabrina asked. "What's more, you have a painting done by the murderer." She waved a hand toward the foyer.
"Forest Beechum? Is that his work?" Qwilleran said in surprise. "That fellow really knows how to paint mountains!"
"He did several mountain studies for my clients. Too bad he got himself in such bad trouble." "Were you satisfied with the verdict?" "Frankly, I didn't follow the trial, but—from what I hear—there's no doubt that he was guilty." Her wine glass was empty.
"Will you have a touch?" Qwilleran asked, tilting the wine bottle. "How did you get along with Hawkinfield as a client?"
