Blind Fools

Blind Fools: Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 “So, how’d it go?” Mira asked, smirking at the sullen look to Uncle Ian’s mouth.  She sprayed cleaner on the front windows where she had the perfect view of him and Ophelia talking in the bookstore across the street.  She saw everything and sympathized a little with a deaf person.  She heard none of the conversation, but she witnessed plenty of animation.  Namely Uncle Ian hauling Ophelia into his lap and sniffing her like a dog.  

“Fine,” he grunted.  “Joey likes her.”

 “Yeah, I saw,” she said, wiping down the windows with a paper towel and grinning at him because he had no idea how canine-ish he'd been acting just ten minutes ago.  “But?”

 “But nothing,” he replied in that surly voice of his when nothing goes his way.  “She turned me down again.”

 “I kind of figured, considering your bottom lip is sticking out far enough to trip over.”

 Uncle Ian sighed and grappled next to him for a chair.  Mira nudged him toward the nearest wooden, ladder-back.  “I really hate it when you move things around,” he grunted, lowering his body to the seat.

 “I moved nothing,” she retorted.  “Daddy did.  He closed up last night.  If you have a problem, go talk to him about it.  Now...back to Ophelia.  So, you're giving up?”

 “Hell, no, I'm not giving up,” he scoffed loudly, causing an elderly woman in the corner booth to glare at him.  “I'm just calling in reinforcements.”

 Mira's hand stilled on the window.  Streaks of cleaner dripped down to the window sill.  She turned to him.  “Oh, no, no, no.  I lied.  I'm not getting involved any more.  I did my part.  You've been introduced, and I think that you've met your match with Ophelia.  You're on your own, buddy.”

 “I just want you to do what you do best,” he said, grinning wickedly at her.  She closed her eyes and took the bait. 

 “And what do I do best?”

 “Pester,” he said.

 “And I suppose you want me to pester Ophelia?”

 Uncle Ian leaned back in his seat.  “I just want you to go over and ask why she doesn't want to date me.  Point out some good things about me.  Make her so frustrated and flustered by you that she'll come crying to me when she gets fed up.  You know?  Pester.”

 She finished wiping the window before speaking.  Setting the spray bottle and paper towels on the nearest empty table, she sat across him and studied his face for a long time.  He was serious.  He really wanted to play upon that woman's emotions and weak points just to bulldoze her into another date.  Maybe he should read Portrait of a Lady.  How could he be so against his niece becoming a doormat when he acted just like Gilbert Osmond, a calculating man set on shaping the people around him into the persons he preferred?

 “Do you really think that will do any good?  She's got a temper.  She'll turn on you, sure as the sun sets every day.” 

 “Just do this for me,” he said with the perfect amount of pleading in his voice.  Mira snorted deep in her throat.  That pathetic bit was getting old.  Until recently, he would have died from shame before playing the helpless destitute.  Now, he pulled every string he had available just to get close to Ophelia.  Hmm, maybe he does like her.  However, this infatuation thing was getting a bit creepy. 

 “What's in it for me?” she asked, only curious to see what he'd offer.

 Uncle Ian sat up straighter, a shrewd interest crossing his countenance.  “What do you want?”