“Are there any left?” Jeremy Hinkel asked. “I know we’re running low.”
“I’ll have to check.” Mrs. Zinger polished the battered bird’s metal face with a corner of her dress. “There’s a case of extras in the library. We’ve used a lot, but I don’t think they’re gone. My father would’ve complained if he found the box empty.”
“The installation won’t take long. I can do it now, if you like.”
Mrs. Zinger nodded and tried to straighten the peacock’s bent leg.
“I’ll go get my tools, then,” said Jeremy.
“Wait.” Mrs. Zinger let go and the straightened leg sprang back to its original position. “Let me make sure we have a replacement first. I’ll be right back.” Dropping the peacock into her dress pocket, she trotted up the porch stairs and into the house.
Jeremy Hinkel watched the white painted door swing shut, then shook his head and went to get his tools anyway. When Mrs. Zinger returned, he was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he’d been waiting for ages.
She frowned as she took in the toolbox by his feet. “Was I really gone that long?”
“Its impossible to get anywhere in a timely fashion in your house.”
“Point taken.” Mrs. Zinger sighed heavily and offered him the wooden box she was holding. “I’m afraid you needn’t have taken the trouble, though. Given the circumstances, I’d like to postpone installation until after the masonry repairs are done. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Circumstances?” Jeremy took the proffered box. “What circumstances?”
“Just open it.”
Jeremy gently lifted the small chest’s polished lid and looked inside. His eyes widened in dismay. “But there’s only one!”
Mrs. Zinger nodded. “I know. We need to be careful with it.”
Jeremy ran a hand through his hair and stared at the replacement bird in consternation. The silver peacock twinkled merrily up from a bed of black velvet. It looked so beautiful lying there, it seemed a crime to remove it. And the velvet was familiar too. Jeremy didn’t want to think about the implications of the fabric.
He tore his eyes from the strutting bird and looked at Mrs. Zinger. “We need to reorder these at once. Who made them?”
She was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “Reordering isn’t possible. The company doesn’t exist anymore.”
“You mean…?”
Mrs. Zinger closed her eyes and nodded.
Jeremy’s heart sank as his fear was confirmed. “What about the artist?”
“We don’t know for sure who they were.”
“So the artist might be…” He couldn’t say it.
Smiling sadly, Mrs. Zinger finished the sentence for him. “Dead. Yes. There is a good chance that that is, indeed, the case.”
“So this really is the last one…” Jeremy ran a reverent finger across the peacock’s enameled tail feathers. They were smooth and unblemished. They wouldn’t stay that way long once exposed to the elements. “Are you sure you want to install it? It would make a beautiful display piece.”
Mrs. Zinger chuckled softly and shook her head. “No. It’s meant to be admired alongside the others, in the original setting. The artist would’ve wanted it that way.”
The polished lid slid shut with a gentle click. “That was their philosophy,” conceded Jeremy. “Still…” He gave the lid a pat. “It seems a shame for something like this to be at the mercy of Fate’s whim. These peacocks have extremely bad luck.”
“I know.”
He offered her the box, but Mrs. Zinger waved it off. “You keep it. The repairs should be done tomorrow. I know how busy you are. This way you won’t have to wait for me to get it again. Install it at your leisure.”
Shrugging, Jeremy slipped the chest into one of his pockets. “As you wish, Mrs. Zinger. What about the broken one? It’s in better condition than the other miniatures that were removed. Do you have plans for it?”
Mrs. Zinger looked thoughtful. She pulled the bent peacock from her pocket and walked over to the chair she’d been sitting in earlier. “Actually…” A dull clack sounded as she set the silver bird on the glass table beside her laptop. It’s bent leg acted like a stand and it stayed upright, reflecting iridescence from its tail onto the sparkling, clear surface. “I was thinking of giving it to my daughter. Its the sort of thing she’d like.” Mrs. Zinger sat down, surveying Jeremy with a knowing eye as she leaned back and reclaimed her laptop. “Why? Were you thinking of buying it off me?”
“No, no. Not at all. “ Jeremy Hinkel picked up his toolbox with a smile. “It’s worth more than I can afford, I’m sure. I was just curious.”
In truth, he’d been tempted to do just that. Jeremy had quite a bit of money saved, and the chance to own something made by that ill-fated company didn’t come around very often. However, if the peacock was going to the Zingers’ daughter…