Chapter Four
Gibbs surveyed the three agents plus Abby, all of whom stood before him in Jenny's office. At least they looked somewhat contrite. He glared at them. Jenny stood beside him at her desk, looking, if possible, even more baleful than he did.
"We didn't mean anything by it," Tim volunteered. "It was a joke that…got out of hand."
"A joke?" Jenny repeated. "Then why wasn't Jimmy Palmer laughing when he left?!"
"Uh, it wasn't that kind of joke, exactly," Tim admitted, uncomfortably.
"Are you aware that it so distressed Palmer that he's quit his job?" Gibbs growled.
"He quit?" Ziva gasped.
"There must be a mistake," Tony murmured. "We didn't intend—"
"Ducky's on his way to Palmer's apartment now, to see if he can reason with him," said Jenny.
"What were you thinking?!" said Gibbs to them. "You, DiNozzo. You'll be wanting your own, permanent team soon enough. Is this the way you expect to manage people??"
"Um, no, boss…"
"David. You come from a part of the world where people have been warring for centuries. I would have expected you to be more sensitive to personal differences."
Ziva was silent, but looked embarrassed.
"And McGee. You of all people I would have expected to empathize with someone of many talents who has struggled to fit in, socially."
Tim squirmed. "Sorry, boss."
"I'm not the one you should be saying sorry to. We'll see if you get that chance. Now, Abby…as I understand it, this all started with you? You were the one to discover the necklace?"
She nodded, mutely. He dismissed the others, and when the door closed, Jenny ordered her to sit.
"I'm in big trouble, aren't I?" Abby said, feebly.
"You know my rules, Abbs," Gibbs said tiredly. "Rule number four?"
"Never let suspects carry a knife?" she said tiredly, surprised at how much energy this silly affair had sapped from her.
"Abby!"
" 'If you have a secret, the best thing is to keep it to yourself. The second-best is to tell one other person if you must. There is no third-best.' " Abby sulked.
"Right. When you discovered the necklace in Palmer's scrubs pocket, you should have kept this knowledge to yourself. You also could have asked Palmer about it, and maybe prevented this blow-up."
"But the only person I told was Ziva. She could have kept it to herself."
Gibbs slammed his fist on Jenny's desk. "What are you; 7 years old??"
Abby flinched. "Sorry."
To Gibbs and Jenny, she did look sorry, though it wasn't clear for what. "All right, Abby. Get back to work," said Jenny, studying her desk.
"Am I—going to face disciplinary action?"
"That largely depends on what happens with Palmer," Jenny said.
Abby left, not meeting their eyes.
Jenny and Gibbs sighed when she had gone. Jenny pulled the necklace from a drawer. "All this over jewelry. A beautiful piece of jewelry."
"I don't know anything about it," Gibbs shrugged. "I've only ever given silver or gold. Are beads really that special?"
"To people who like them, yes. The variations are endless. The beads, or stones, are innumerable, and made of so many different materials…if he designed this, Palmer really does have a talent."
- - - - -
A few hours later, Gibbs and Jenny regathered the guilty foursome in Jenny's office. And let them sit this time. Ducky was there now, along with Jimmy (who looked embarrassed and met no one's eyes), and a 30-ish woman Ducky introduced as Jimmy's cousin Glenna.
Glenna Palmer, a cheerful-looking woman, smiled at the group. "Do you want me to talk, Jimmy?" she asked from her seat beside him.
"Why don't you, Glenna?" said Ducky when Jimmy didn't answer. "It'll start things off."
"Very well," she said. "I run a shop in Alexandria that I took over from my mother when she died. Wondrous Things, it's called. It specializes in hand-crafted home goods, clothing, art pieces, and jewelry. Our family has always been big on handicrafts and art.
"Jimmy loves things that go together, like beads. When he was small, he liked to play with my mother's collection of beads—she had thousands of beads—and line them up in beautiful rows. We realized early on that he had an eye for color, texture, design, and for the fire itself inside the translucent beads. I taught him how to make necklaces, bracelets and earrings. In our family, there are no male and female tasks," she said with emphasis. "Jimmy's mother got a kick out of designing boxer shorts with funny sayings for men. My dad designed and sewed the sweetest throw pillows you ever saw—almost all of which are bought by women. We never, ever, considered that anyone might think Jimmy's jewelry-making was a peculiar pastime for a man."
"Is it—is it really good, that necklace that he made?" asked Tim. "I never even got a chance to see it."
Jenny handed it to him. "I think it's gorgeous," she said.
Tim turned it over in his hands. "The green in the beads…mixed with the other colors. And are those pearls? Wow. My mom would like this. This green matches her eyes."
Glenna smiled. "It can be yours to give her, for 320 dollars, plus tax."
Tony's eyes bulged. "Your jewelry's worth that much, Palmer?"
"It is indeed," said Glenna. "Jimmy's work is starting to get a following." She passed the necklace around, along with two other already finished pieces.
Jenny held onto one accented with topaz stones and would not pass it along. "How much is this?" she asked. "This is amazing. Whatever it is, I want it!"
"That one is 280 dollars," said Glenna promptly.
"Uh, there are matching earrings, Director," Jimmy said shyly. "70 dollars."
"I'll take those, too," said Jenny.
The meeting broke up, with Tim and Tony shaking Jimmy's hand, and Ziva asking if he could make her a necklace with amber. Only Abby hung back.
When all had filed out, Abby caught up to Jimmy. "Palmer? Uh, Jimmy? I just wanted to say…I'm sorry."
His eyes looked cold behind his glasses. "Sorry for what? Spreading a rumor about me? Making fun of my hobby? My manhood? Not being able to keep a secret? Not coming to me first if you had a concern about me? Or were you having too much fun at nerdy Palmer's expense?"
"I—I—"
"Come see me if you ever figure it out."
"So—you're not quitting?" she called after him.
"No. Glenna said if I quit, I would be giving in to the ridicule. I won't let you shape my life, Abby." He headed for the elevator.
The necklaces are beautiful, Abby reflected. But I put my big foot in my mouth, as I tend to do. How can I make this right?
- - - - -
An hour later, toward the very end of the work day, Abby appeared in Autopsy, looking nervous. Ducky was typing on a computer, and Jimmy was cleaning the instruments. "Uh, Jimmy? Can I see you for a moment? Alone?"
Ducky's glance at her was cool. "Go ahead, Mr. Palmer. I'll finish up with the instruments," he said.
"Thank you, Doctor," Jimmy said, but his own look at Abby was unfriendly. He motioned her back out to the hallway, and followed her there.
"You said to find you if I figured it out," she said, and felt like she was looking up to him, even though in her heels, they were about the same height. "And I did, I think. So here I am."
"And what did you figure out?"
She blushed. "Well, first, I need to give you this." She handed him a piece of paper.
" 'Abby's Secrets'??" he read, then angry, put it down. "No way."
"No! No! Read it! I want you to! That's the point! Read!"
Jimmy sighed and started to read it out-loud.
This is a list of Abby's secrets. It may not be all-inclusive, but this is what I could come up with on short notice. These aren't Mother-Of-All-Secrets, just little ones. Little but still important.
I don't always look both ways before crossing a street. Takes too much time, and the sun is usually in my eyes in one direction. Yes, I like taking risks; why do you ask?
I don't watch traffic lights when I walk across the street. I watch cars. No one was ever run over by a traffic light.
When I go to McDonald's, I take an extra straw and an extra napkin. Because you never know.
When I buy a newspaper from a coin-operated box, I often put in an extra quarter. The person who fills the box probably needs the money more than I do.
Despite the Director's directive, I do feed the pigeons at the front entrance. Just in the off hours when no one sees me.
I also spring the mouse traps whenever Maintenance puts them down. Traps are a horrible punishment for cute little creatures.
I was the one who drew the moustache on the poster of the fat lady when the Employee Activity Association was advertising that opera they'd bought tickets for. Remember, the Director was mad for a solid week; sheesh.
But it was Tony who drew her—whoops, this is supposed to be my secrets. Ahem.
I offered Cynthia 5 to put little whoopee cushions under the sofa cushions the last time the CIA came to see the Director. Cynthia wouldn't take my money, and I don't know if she went through with the gag either. I wish I'd been there.
Jimmy was by now howling. "I—I can't read any more," he choked. "Whether these are true or not, Abby, you have a real flair for humor."
"Thank you," she said. "But you must read on."
He wiped the tears from his eyes and resumed reading aloud.
Once, when Tony was bugging me about my Caf-Pows, I made a fake one, just the right color, out of a bunch of unpleasant-tasting things, and then got him to try it. He didn't bug me about it again for months.
I once yawned hugely during one of Ducky's stories, to which I had not been paying attention. And Tony told me later it was about New Orleans, my home town! Ducky looked so hurt, but I didn't know what to say.
I once left a business card on Ziva's desk for a 12-step assassin-recovery program. Something I made up. I thought it was funny, but she only looked…stressed when she read it.
Tim likes me so much. I don't know why; he treats me much nicer than I treat him. I should be thanking him every day for being there for me. But I don't.
I once moved Tim's Slinky from desk to desk around the squad room over the course of a month. He'd come in in the morning, find his Slinky gone, and blame Tony. After a while I think Tony even started to believe he was doing it. But it was me. I even left postcards on Tim's desk from the places the Slinky was supposedly visiting. Why I play such tricks, I don't know.
It was the end of the list. Jimmy looked at her gravely. "You really don't know?"
"I do now," Abby said deliberately. "It only now came to me. I do these secret things because of the power it gives me over my, well, victim. It's—it's like a drug, I guess. When I get the temptation to know something about someone, or to do something to them, I can't help myself."
"I think you can, if you really want to," Jimmy said slowly. "But why are you telling me all this?"
"Because if you know it, it lessens the power I have, and transfers it to you. That's what knowing a secret does. You can tell anyone, or even everyone, about this. It would be what I deserve, after what I did to you. Gibbs was right. Only trouble comes from spreading secrets. But I do need to atone for this."
He then smiled, tentatively. "Knowing a secret and spreading it are different things. I wouldn't want to spread your secrets, Abby. It's not in me to do that."
"No, I suppose it's not," she said. "You're a good person, Jimmy Palmer."
Jimmy looked away, embarrassed. "Nah, not really. But I'm glad you told me your secrets, Abby. Now I feel I know you better."
"I don't expect you to forgive me right away. Maybe never. I, uh, really did like your necklaces, though. Do you, uh, suppose you could make me one? Of tanzanite?"
"Tanzanite's pretty expensive. It's still rare, and is a very hot gemstone right now."
"I know, I know, but it's so beautiful! All I want is like a single stone set in a simple necklace of black stones or black beads."
"I'll price it out, and give you a quote."
"Thanks, Jimmy!!" On impulse, she kissed his cheek and ran out.
He went back into the lab, rereading the list as he walked, and chuckled. It's a good thing Mom raised me to keep secrets, he thought. Otherwise Abby would be forever living this down.
- - - - -
Tim was in her lab when Abby came in. He looked furtive. "Uh, Abby? Something's come up, and—well, can you keep a secret?"
"Of course, Timmy," she said, squashing him in a hug. "You know me! Old-closed-lips Abby!"
- END -