Silver Linings

mysterious past, did he?”
    “I gather he lived a little rough,” Mattie said carefully.
    “Well, we guessed that much.”
    “He was a professional mercenary for a while, Aunt Charlotte.”
    “Yes, I wondered if that might not be the case. It accounts for many of his skills and a lot of his inside knowledge of certain matters, doesn't it? How did you take the news, Mattie? He worried excessively about that, you know.”
    “I told him it was obviously not a suitable line of work for him.”
    Charlotte laughed at that. “Did you really? How odd.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Oh, no particular reason. Just that I would have imagined he'd have been rather good at that sort of thing.”
    “I don't care what he did in the past or how well he did it,” Mattie said fiercely. “He's built a different life for himself now.”
    “He's going after this Colonel Rainbird,” Aunt Charlotte pointed out gently.
    “Old business,” Mattie said quietly. She knew then she had accepted the inevitable. Hugh had to be free to live his new life, and he was the only one who could close the door on the past. “It has to be cleaned up. And it's not exactly something that can be turned over to the police, Aunt Charlotte, although I wish to God it were.”
    “It sounds as though you've come to terms with things. But it doesn't surprise me that you've got the inner fortitude to deal with this. You're a strong woman. Always have been. And Lord knows, Hugh needs a woman who is strong enough to handle his past as well as his present and future.”
    “Hugh may have lived a harsh life, but there is one thing I know for certain.”
    “And that is?” Charlotte prompted.
    “He would never have lived a dishonorable life.”
    “Umm, yes, I'm inclined to agree with you. Now, why don't you have some of your famous bug juice, Mattie dear? Take a few antistress vitamins, go do your aerobics workout, and try not to worry about Hugh too much. He'll be back for you.”
    “That's what he said.”
    “The problem, of course,” said Aunt Charlotte, “is what are you going to do when he does come back?”
    She hung up the phone before Mattie could think of a response.
    The next morning on the way to work Mattie spotted the figure huddled in the gallery doorway from halfway down the block. She sighed inwardly. It was not all that unusual to find a street person had spent the night sleeping in the minimal shelter provided by the shop entrance. Sad, but, unfortunately, not unusual.
    She would wake him up and send him on his way with enough money for a cup of coffee.
    She was fishing in her purse for a dollar when she realized it was no stranger who was crouched against the gallery window. The figure was wearing an outrageously fake fur coat and a pair of three-inch spike heels. She had a mass of unlikely blond curls boiling around her heavily made-up face.
    “Evangeline!” Mattie shouted, breaking into a run. “What on earth are you doing here?”
    “Hi, honey. Sorry about this. Got in this morning and came straight here. You said to look you up if I ever got to Seattle, and this was the address on that card you left me. When the cab let me off here, I thought there'd been a mistake.” She glanced quizzically at the paintings in the window. “This gallery really belong to you?”
    “All mine.” Mattie thrust the key into the lock and opened the door. “Come on inside and warm up.”
    “Jeez. This is really something. It's an art gallery, isn't it?” Evangeline eyed the contents of the shop with astonishment as Mattie turned on the lights. “You're not really in the business, at all, are you?”
    “You mean, your particular business? No. But I am in business. How about a cup of tea?”
    “Yeah, anything. I've had nothing but lousy airline food for the past twenty-four hours.” Evangeline followed her into the office and watched her plug in the little hot pot. “Got a bathroom?”
    “Over there.” Mattie nodded toward the small door.
    “Thanks. Be right out.”
    When she returned, Evangeline had taken off the fake fur. She was wearing a skin-tight island-style sheath. She looked like an exotic flower that had been freshly plucked in the jungle and plunked down in Mattie's mundane little office.
    “I suppose you wonder what the hell I'm doing here,” she said, sniffing suspiciously at the herbal tea.
    “The question did cross my mind. You're more than welcome, though. It's good to see you again. You look great. I love that