Needful Things - Stephen King [21]
Or somebody's.
But Gaunt did not commiserate. He took a bite of cake and rolled his eyes comically. "Never mind sewing and patterns," he said, "you should have opened a restaurant."
"Oh, I didn't make it," she said, "but I'll convey the compliment to Nettle Cobb. She's my housekeeper."
"Nettle 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 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 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@ne 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 jotul 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 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 dickering 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,