On the positive side, Bea seemed very concerned about Uncle Carl. And she obviously knew where I was in New York, but had left me alone until now. So perhaps she had changed. Or perhaps she was such a good con artist that she could even con me into doing something for her. I was about to find out.
The house was just as I remembered it, and the rush of nostalgia temporarily immobilized me. After a few seconds, I made my way to the kitchen to find Bea. Seeing her sitting at the table in the exact same place and posture as all those years ago sent an even stronger burst of nostalgia through me. It felt like I'd gone back in time.
Bea looked very much the way I remembered, her pinched face long and weathered. Her short blonde hair had more streaks of gray now, and I noticed a few more lines etched around her mouth. Other than that, she looked just the same.
I was amused to see her surrounded by bags of her favorite chocolate bars. Although the candy company currently made over a dozen different varieties, she used to buy only two of them, and a quick look at the bags on the table told me that she still did. Her favorite chocolate bar, Nuts to You, was loaded with almonds and covered with dark chocolate. But when she needed a change, perhaps something sweeter, she'd reach for a Low-Hanging Fruit bar. Personally, I hated them both because they reminded me of my life with her. A life where these treasured candies were given to us only when we pulled successful cons. When we picked a pocket or tricked someone. When we came home with cash.
Bea regarded the lawn bag with a half grin, then smacked her hand on the table. "About time you got here." She jumped to her feet and headed to the stairs. "Bring that along, and let's have a look."
Yep, that's about as warm as she ever got-no hug, no kiss, no mention of how I'd changed over the past seven years. I'd have gotten more love if I spent the night at the police station.
I chuckled sadly to myself over Bea's lack of warmth. Perhaps she truly was a harsh, conniving woman. At least she didn't offer me a candy bar for having scored the panda. I'm not sure I'd have been able to control my anger over that.
I stopped her halfway up the stairs and broke the silence. "Nice to see you again, Beatrix." I emphasized her real name to prod her, to get some sort of a conversation going beyond her joy over the panda. When we were kids, she'd get pretty annoyed if we ever used her full name, often smacking us in the mouth. As we got older and could defend ourselves, we used it when we were feeling brave and defiant. Right now, I was merely trying to tell her that I wasn't interested in picking up where we left off. I was here to help Uncle Carl, not her.