Needful Things Part 4

"Oh, I didn't make it," she said, "but I'll convey the compliment to Nettie Cobb. She's my housekeeper."

"Nettie Cobb," he said thoughtfully, cutting another bite from his slice of cake.

"Yes-do you know her?"

"Oh, I doubt it." He spoke with the air of a man who is suddenly recalled to the present moment. "I don't know anyone anyone in Castle Rock." He looked at her slyly from the corners of his eyes. "Any chance she could be hired away?" in Castle Rock." He looked at her slyly from the corners of his eyes. "Any chance she could be hired away?"

"None," Polly said, laughing.

"I was going to ask you about real-estate agents," he said. "Who would you say is the most trustworthy around here?"

"Oh, they're all thieves, but Mark Hopewell's probably as safe as any.

He choked back laughter and put a hand to his mouth to stifle a spray of crumbs. Then he began to cough, and if her hands hadn't been so painful, she would have thumped him companionably on the back a few times. First acquaintance or not, she did did like him. like him.

"Sorry," he said, still chuckling a little. "They are all thieves, though, aren't they?"

"Oh, absolutely."

Had she been another sort of woman-one who kept the facts of her own past less completely to herself-Polly would then have begun asking Leland Gaunt leading questions. Why had he come to Castle Rock? Where had he been before coming here? Would he stay long? Did he have family? But she wasn't that other sort of woman, and so she was content to answer his questions... was delighted to, in fact, since none of them were about herself. He wanted to know about the town, and what the flow of traffic was like on Main Street during the winter, and if there was a place nearby where he could shop for a nice little Jtul stove, and insurance rates, and a hundred other things. He produced a narrow black leather notebook from the pocket of the blue blazer he wore and gravely noted down each name she mentioned.

She looked down at her plate and saw that she had finished all of her cake. Her hands still hurt, but they felt better than they had when she arrived. She recalled that she had almost decided against coming by, because they were so miserable. Now she was glad she'd done it, anyway.

"I have to go," she said, looking at her watch. "Rosalie will think I died."

They had eaten standing up. Now Gaunt stacked their plates neatly, put the forks on top, and replaced the top on the cake container. "I'll return this as soon as the cake is gone," he said. "Is that all right?"

"Perfectly."

"You'll probably have it by mid-afternoon, then," he said gravely.

"You don't have to be that that prompt," she said as Gaunt walked her to the door. "It's been very nice to meet you." prompt," she said as Gaunt walked her to the door. "It's been very nice to meet you."

"Thanks for coming by," he said. For a moment she thought he meant to take her arm, and she felt a sense of dismay at the thought of his touch-silly, of course-but he didn't. "You've made what I expected to be a scary day something of a treat instead."

"You'll be fine." Polly opened the door, then paused. She had asked him nothing at all about himself, but she was curious about one thing, too curious to leave without asking. "You've got all sorts of interesting things-"

"Thank you. "

"-but nothing is priced. Why is that?"

He smiled. "That's a little eccentricity of mine, Polly. I've always believed that a sale worth making is worth d.i.c.kering over a little. I think I must have been a Middle Eastern rug merchant in my last incarnation. Probably from Iraq, although I probably shouldn't say so these days."

"So you charge whatever the market will bear?" she asked, teasing just a little.

"You could say so," he agreed seriously, and again she was struck by how deep his hazel eyes were-how oddly beautiful. "I'd rather think of it as defining worth by need."

"I see."

"Do you really?"

"Well... I think think so. It explains the name of the shop." so. It explains the name of the shop."

He smiled. "It might," he said. "I suppose it might, at that."

"Well, I'll wish you a very good day, Mr. Gaunt-"

"Leland, please. Or just Lee."

"Leland, then. And you're not to worry about customers. I think by Friday, you'll have to hire a security guard to shoo them out at the end of the day."

"Do you? That would be lovely."

"Goodbye."

"Ciao," he said, and closed the door after her. he said, and closed the door after her.

He stood there a moment, watching as Polly Chalmers walked down the street, smoothing her gloves over her hands, so misshapen and in such startling contrast to the rest of her, which was trim and pretty, if not terribly remarkable. Gaunt's smile grew. As his lips drew back, exposing his uneven teeth, it became unpleasantly predatory.

"You'll do," he said softly in the empty shop. "You'll do just fine."

5.

Polly's prediction proved quite correct. By closing time that day, almost all of the women in Castle Rock-those who mattered, anyway-and several men had stopped by Needful Things for a quick browse. Almost all of them were at some pains to a.s.sure Gaunt that they had only a moment, because they were on their way to someplace else.

Stephanie Bonsaint, Cynthia Rose Martin, Barbara Miller, and Francine Pelletier were the first; Steffie, Cyndi Rose, Babs, and Francie arrived in a protective bunch not ten minutes after Polly was observed leaving the new shop (the news of her departure spread quickly and thoroughly by telephone and the efficient bush telegraph which runs through New England back yards).

Steffie and her friends looked. They ooohed and ahhhed. They a.s.sured Gaunt they could not stay long because this was their bridge day (neglecting to tell him that the weekly rubber usually did not start until about two in the afternoon). Francie asked him where he came from. Gaunt told her Akron, Ohio. Steffie asked him if he had been in the antiques business for long. Gaunt told her he did not consider it to be the antiques business... exactly. Cyndi wanted to know if Mr. Gaunt had been in New England long. Awhile, Gaunt replied; awhile.

All four agreed later that the shop was many odd things!-but it had been a very unsuccessful interview. The man was as close-mouthed as Polly Chalmers, perhaps more. Babs then pointed out what they all knew (or thought they knew): that Polly had been the first person in town to actually enter the new shop, and that she had brought a cake. brought a cake. Perhaps, Babs speculated, she knew Mr. Gaunt... from that Time Before, that time she had spent Away. Perhaps, Babs speculated, she knew Mr. Gaunt... from that Time Before, that time she had spent Away.

Cyndi Rose expressed interest in a Lalique vase, and asked Mr. Gaunt (who was nearby but did not hover, all noted with approval) how much it was.

"How much do you think?" he asked, smiling.

She smiled back at him, rather coquettishly. "Oh," she said. "Is that that the way you do things, Mr. Gaunt?" the way you do things, Mr. Gaunt?"

"That's the way I do them," he agreed.

"Well, you're apt to lose more than you gain, d.i.c.kering with Yankees," Cyndi Rose said, while her friends looked on with the bright interest of spectators at a Wimbledon Championship match.

"That," he said, "remains to be seen." His voice was still friendly, but now it was mildly challenging, as well.

Cyndi Rose looked more closely at the vase this time. Steffie Bonsaint whispered something in her ear. Cyndi Rose nodded.

"Seventeen dollars," she said. The vase actually looked as if it might be worth fifty, and she guessed that in a Boston antiques shop, it would be priced at one hundred and eighty.

Gaunt steepled his fingers under his chin in a gesture Brian Rusk would have recognized. "I think I'd have to have at least forty-five," he said with some regret.

Cyndi Rose's eyes brightened; there were possibilities here. She had originally seen the Lalique vase as something only mildly interesting, really not much more than another conversational crowbar to use on the mysterious Mr. Gaunt. Now she looked at it more closely and saw that it really was a nice piece of work, one which would look right at home in her living room. The border of flowers around the long neck of the vase was the exact color of her wallpaper. Until Gaunt had responded to her suggestion with a price which was only a finger's length out of her reach, she hadn't realized that she wanted the vase as badly as she now felt she did.

She consulted with her friends.

Gaunt watched them, smiling gently.

The bell over the door rang and two more ladies came in. At Needful Things, the first full day of business had begun.

6.

When the Ash Street Bridge Club left Needful Things ten minutes later, Cyndi Rose Martin carried a shopping bag by the handles. Inside was the Lalique vase, wrapped in tissue paper. She had purchased it for thirty-one dollars plus tax, almost all of her pin money, but she was so delighted with it that she was almost purring.

Usually she felt doubtful and a little ashamed of herself after such an impulse buy, certain that she had been cozened a little if not cheated outright, but not today. This was one deal where she had come out on top. Mr. Gaunt had even asked her to come back, saying he had the twin of this vase, and it would be arriving in a shipment later in the week-perhaps even tomorrow! This one would look lovely on the little table in her living room, but if she had two, she could put one on each end of the mantel, and that would be smashing. smashing.

Her three friends also felt that she had done well, and although they were a little frustrated at having gotten so little of Mr. Gaunt's background, their opinion of him was, on the whole, quite high.

"He's got the most beautiful green eyes," Francie Pelletier said, a little dreamily.

"Were they green?" Cyndi Rose asked, a little startled. She herself had thought they were gray. "I didn't notice." they green?" Cyndi Rose asked, a little startled. She herself had thought they were gray. "I didn't notice."

7.

Late that afternoon, Rosalie Drake from You Sew and Sew stopped in Needful Things on her coffee break, accompanied by Polly's housekeeper, Nettie Cobb. There were several women browsing in the store, and in the rear corner two boys from Castle County High were leafing through a cardboard carton of comic books and muttering excitedly to each other-it was amazing, they both agreed, how many of the items they needed to fill their respective collections were here. They only hoped the prices would not prove too high. It was impossible to tell without asking, because there were no price-stickers on the plastic bags which held the comics.

Rosalie and Nettie said h.e.l.lo to Mr. Gaunt, and Gaunt asked Rosalie to thank Polly again for the cake. His eyes followed Nettie, who had wandered away after the introductions and was looking rather wistfully at a small collection of carnival gla.s.s. He left Rosalie studying the picture of Elvis next to the splinter of PETRIFIED WOOD FROM THE HOLY LAND and walked over to Nettie.

"Do you like carnival gla.s.s, Ms. Cobb?" he asked softly.

She jumped a little-Nettie Cobb had the face and almost painfully shy manner of a woman made to jump at voices, no matter how soft and friendly, when they spoke from the general area of her elbow-and smiled at him nervously.

"It's Missus Cobb, Mr. Gaunt, although my husband's been pa.s.sed on for some time now."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

"No need to be. It's been fourteen years. A long time. Yes, I have a little collection of carnival gla.s.s." She seemed almost to quiver, as a mouse might quiver at the approach of a cat. "Not that I could afford anything so nice as these pieces. Lovely, they are. Like things must look in heaven."

"Well, I'll tell you something," he said. "I bought quite a lot of carnival gla.s.s when I got these, and they're not as expensive as you might think. And the others are much much nicer. Would you like to come by tomorrow and have a look at them?" nicer. Would you like to come by tomorrow and have a look at them?"

She jumped again and sidled away a step, as If he had suggested she might like to come by the next day so he could pinch her bottom a few times... perhaps until she cried.

"Oh, I don't think... Thursday's my busy day, you know... at Polly's... we have to really turn the place out on Thursdays, you know..."

"Are you sure you can't drop by?" he coaxed. "Polly told me that you made the cake she brought this morning-"

"Was it all right?" Nettie asked nervously. Her eyes said she expected him to say, No, it was not not all right, Nettie, it gave me all right, Nettie, it gave me cramps, cramps, it gave me the backdoor it gave me the backdoor trots, trots, in fact, and so I am going to hurt you, Nettie, I'm going to drag you into the back room and twist your nipples until you holler uncle. in fact, and so I am going to hurt you, Nettie, I'm going to drag you into the back room and twist your nipples until you holler uncle.

"It was wonderful," he said soothingly. "It made me think of cakes my mother used to make... and that was a very long time ago."

This was the right note to strike with Nettie, who had loved her own mother dearly in spite of the beatings that lady had administered after her frequent nights out in the juke-joints and gin-mills. She relaxed a little.

"Well, that's fine, then," she said. "I'm awfully glad it was good. Of course, it was Polly's idea. She's just about the sweetest woman in the world."

"Yes," he said. "After meeting her, I can believe that." He glanced at Rosalie Drake, but Rosalie was still browsing. He looked back at Nettie and said, "I just felt I owed you a little something-"

"Oh no!" Nettie said, alarmed all over again. "You don't owe me a thing. Not a single solitary thing, Mr. Gaunt."

"Please come by. I can see you have an eye for carnival gla.s.s... and I could give you back Polly's cake-box."

"Well... I suppose I could could drop by on my break..." Nettie's eyes said she could not believe what she was hearing from her own mouth. drop by on my break..." Nettie's eyes said she could not believe what she was hearing from her own mouth.

"Wonderful," he said, and left her quickly, before she could change her mind again. He walked over to the boys and asked them how they were doing. They hesitantly showed him several old issues of The Incredible Hulk The Incredible Hulk and and The X-Men. The X-Men. Five minutes later they went out with most of the comic books in their hands and expressions of stunned joy on their faces. Five minutes later they went out with most of the comic books in their hands and expressions of stunned joy on their faces.

The door had barely shut behind them when it opened again. Cora Rusk and Myra Evans strode in. They looked around, eyes as bright and avid as those of squirrels in nut-gathering season, and went immediately to the gla.s.s case containing the picture of Elvis. Cora and Myra bent over, cooing with interest, displaying bottoms which were easily two axe-handles wide.

Gaunt watched them, smiling.

The bell over the door jingled again. The new arrival was as large as Cora Rusk, but Cora was fat and this woman looked strong strong-the way a lumberjack with a beer belly looks strong. A large white b.u.t.ton had been pinned to her blouse. The red letters proclaimed: CASINO NITE-JUST FOR FUN!

The lady's face had all the charm of a snowshovel. Her hair, an unremarkable and lifeless shade of brown, was mostly covered by a kerchief which was knotted severely under her wide chin. She surveyed the interior of the store for a moment or two, her small, deepset eyes flicking here and there like the eyes of a gunslinger who surveys the interior of a saloon before pushing all the way through the batwing doors and starting to raise h.e.l.l. Then she came in.

Few of the women circulating among the displays gave her more than a glance, but Nettie Cobb looked at the newcomer with an extraordinary expression of mingled dismay and hate. Then she scuttled away from the carnival gla.s.s. Her movement caught the newcomer's eye. She glanced at Nettie with a kind of ma.s.sive contempt, then dismissed her.

The bell over the door jingled as Nettie left the shop.

Mr. Gaunt observed all of this with great interest.

He walked over to Rosalie and said, "Mrs. Cobb has left without you, I'm afraid."

Rosalie looked startled. "Why-" she began, and then her eyes settled on the newcomer with the Casino Nite b.u.t.ton pinned adamantly between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She was studying the Turkish rug hung on the wall with the fixed interest of an art student in a gallery. Her hands were planted on her vast hips. "Oh," Rosalie said. "Excuse me, I really ought to go along."

"No love lost between those two, I'd say," Mr. Gaunt remarked.