brought me to Seattle, but not all the way to your house. Someone recognized your work, which led to another person and so on.” Mr. C flapped the scarf in my direction. “My spy followed you this afternoon.”
I frowned. Then it came together. “The man wearing the red scarf?”
“Bingo,” Mr. C said. “Your knitting is well known, Hope, along with your grandmother’s.”
Esperanza fished the knitting needle out of her pocket and held it in front of her like a sword. “How do you know Abuela?”
“Your signature moon gave away the connection.” Mr. C’s eyes traveled the length of Esperanza’s body. “Although, you’re not what I expected, not at all.” His expression softened but hardened again when Esperanza gave him the finger.
“Why do you keep calling her Hope?” I asked.
“It’s your sister’s alias, but you’re right. It’s time I called Esperanza by her real name.”
“Who told you?” Esperanza asked.
“Not exactly rocket science. Esperanza means Hope in English. Your Knight here let it slip.”
“I didn’t mean—” Frank said.
“Don’t sweat it, kid. When I discovered my customer’s favorite artist wanted to break our contract, I planned to find her.” He whipped a sheet of paper covered with tiny print out of his pocket. It unraveled to the floor. “No one hoodwinks Mr. C.”
Esperanza sank into a chair.
“Tell me what’s going on.” I stood between Esperanza and Mr. C.
“This will make the buyer very happy, very happy indeed.” Mr. C poked a gloved finger at the shawl and drew back as if stung.
“It’s not for sale,” Esperanza said. “I’ve decided to keep it.”
“Ha! Getting greedy? Holding out for the highest bidder?” Mr. C’s voice grew shrill.
Esperanza shook her head, dislodging the witch hat. The crochet hooks, holding it in place, clattered to the floor.
“Lookee here, my client has collected all your work and wants the fifth and final tapestry. He insists on having the complete collection. Got it? When this particular gentleman insists, I deliver, ‘or else’.” He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “I’m not taking any chances on ‘or else’. I’m delivering this piece; then you and I can call it quits. If that’s what you want….”
“He has them all?” Esperanza wobbled to the fireplace and gripped one of the knitted dolls. “I agreed to knit five tapestries only if they were sold to multiple buyers.”
“I thought he would sell them too.” Mr. C scrunched his cap. “I’m not exactly consulted on his day-to-day operations.”
“Don’t you understand? If one person owns them, God knows what’ll happen. He could unleash—” Esperanza glanced from Frank to me.
“Your sister doesn’t know about your, um, talents?” Mr. C flashed his kernel teeth and convulsed into silent laughter. “I’m coming back in two hours for the tapestry and don’t even think about taking off. Someone will hunt you down, and believe me, you’d rather deal with Mr. C than my customer.”
He shoved his cap down on his head, taming his fiery hair, and marched out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him.
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