The Eye of Heaven (Fargo Adventures 6) - Page 14

Sam said, “You go ahead. I’ll bring up the rear with the bags. Sounds like your second love is going berserk. Better say hi before he tears the wall down.”

The garage door closed behind them, and Selma popped the trunk while Remi made for the entrance. When she opened the door and stepped into the connecting hall, Zoltán’s barking ceased, replaced by a low whine as his sensitive nose detected Remi’s presence. She entered the kitchen to find Zoltán sitting obediently, quivering with anticipation but too disciplined to rush her. She approached, got down on one knee, and gave him a long hug, and he reciprocated with a kiss and a nuzzle, in a kind of canine heaven to have the mistress of the house finally back, his lush tail sweeping the floor in a fan of joy.

Selma came in, followed by Sam with their luggage, and Zoltán whined again, his every dream now reality. Sam dropped the bags by the refrigerator doors and clapped his hands together, inviting Zoltán to him, and the dog gladly leapt forward. Sam scratched behind his ears, and Remi joined him, petting Zoltán, as Selma watched the reunion with a smile.

“Do you want me to take your stuff up to your room?” Selma asked.

Remi shook her head. “Sam will do it. After a week of loafing around, he could use the exercise.”

“That’s right. It was nothing but gin and donuts out on the water. I let Remi do all the hard work. Didn’t want to pull something or hurt myself,” Sam said.

Selma’s poker face didn’t twitch. “Well, then, if you don’t mind, I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

“Thanks for picking us up, Selma,” Remi said.

“No problem. All in a day’s work,” Selma said, and then retired to her suite.

Up in the master bedroom, Remi threw herself down on the king-sized bed with a sigh of happiness, Zoltán already curled up on the floor by the footboard.

“It’s good to be back,” Sam said. “And as an added bonus, the floor’s not rocking. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Relax. We’ve got nowhere to be.”

“Yeah, but the time difference has got me coming and going. I don’t know whether I should be having breakfast or a nightcap.”

Remi sat up. “Did Selma seem odd to you?”

“Odd? In what way?” Sam asked as he pulled off his shirt.

“I don’t know. Subdued. Maybe a little preoccupied.”

“Possibly. But didn’t you tell me she’s been having problems sleeping recently? I know I get kind of grumpy when I’m short on rest.”

“Kind of grumpy? More like a bear whose hibernation was disturbed.”

“Bears need ‘me time,’ too.”

“Maybe you should talk to her tomorrow. Ask her. As for me, I’ve got seven thousand miles of travel dust to hose off.”

“I didn’t see much dust inside the plane you wing us away on these days.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And soon, squeaky clean as a newborn.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Selma was already up, the rich aroma of coffee in the air, when Sam and Remi made it down to the research level of the house, where morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Pacific’s calm blue spread before them like a lapis tapestry, and Selma was gazing out at the view.

“Good morning, Selma. How are you today? Sleep any better?” Remi asked as she poured herself a cup.

Selma turned, seemingly startled by their arrival, a troubled look on her face.

“Oh, Mrs. Fargo! No, I didn’t. I . . . I’m not good at some things, and I guess this is one of them . . .”

“Selma. What’s wrong?” Remi asked. And Sam joined her, both obviously concerned.

“I want you to promise you won’t overreact,” Selma said.

Tags: Clive Cussler Fargo Adventures Thriller
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