LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

burn of tears intensified as she saw that her Japanese maple bonsai tree had been thrown to the floor and stomped on. The pottery base was shattered, and half the tree’s roots were exposed and broken.

      “Angie? Are you okay?”

      She sank to her knees and reached for the fragile tangle of leaves and tiny branches.

      “They smashed my bonsai.”

      There was a small silence. She knew Michael understood the significance of the loss. Billie had given her the tiny tree as a gift to brighten her workspace, even though Angie had what could only be described as a black thumb. At the time, Angie had given Billie her word that she’d keep it alive, and so far the bonsai had survived almost three years of benign neglect.

      She lifted the tree gently. It was crushed, the main trunk almost completely severed. Utterly beyond saving.

      “If you want, I can be there in half an hour. I’m sure Mrs. Linton could look after the kids for a few hours.”

      She sniffed back her tears. “I’m okay. Just angry. It’s so destructive. And completely pointless.”

      “You sure you don’t want some company?”

      “I’ll be all right. But thanks for the offer.”

      It wasn’t until they ended the call that it struck her that ten months ago, Billie would have been the one on the phone, insisting on helping. It was hard facing a crisis without her best support and cheerleader, but it was also nice to know that Michael cared enough to have made the call.

      Of course he cares. He’s your friend. Just as you’re his friend.

      She heard footsteps in the corridor and the policeman stopped in the doorway.

      “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our team is here now. You’re going to have to leave.”

      “Okay.”

      She took one last look around her devastated studio. As she’d said to Michael, there was nothing she could do here till tomorrow.

      Shoulders straight, she headed for home.

      * * *

      MICHAEL WORRIED ABOUT Angie all night until he went to bed and then started again first thing when he woke the next morning. She’d done so much for him and the kids and he hated the thought of her having to deal with the invasion of her creative space all on her own.

      After he’d dropped Eva at school, he drove into the city. Charlie was asleep in his car seat by the time Michael found a parking spot. He unstrapped him and carried him the block to Angie’s building. Charlie began to wriggle in his arms as he approached the entrance and he set his son on his feet and took his hand.

      “You happy now?”

      Charlie nodded.

      “Shall we go visit Angie, then?”

      “Angie?” Charlie’s face was a study in delight.

      The directory in the foyer told him A. Bartlett was in studio twenty-three on the fifth floor. He eyed the ancient cage elevator suspiciously before deciding to take the stairs. After the first flight, Charlie allowed himself to be carried again, a capitulation which shortened their upward trek by several minutes.

      Glass crunched underfoot, and when they arrived at the fifth floor more piles of broken glass were stationed periodically along the corridor, clearly waiting to be collected and disposed of. Michael winced when he saw the damage to some of the studios he passed.

      “Down. Down!” Charlie commanded as they neared Angie’s.

      Michael set him on his feet but kept a tight grip on his son’s hand as he searched for number twenty-three. Belatedly it occurred to him that he probably should have called first—for all he knew, Angie might be out arranging repairs or talking to clients. Then he saw that the door to what he assumed was her studio was open and lifted a hand to knock on the doorframe to announce himself. His hand froze inches from the wood as he registered that Angie was inside and that she wasn’t alone.

      Not by a long shot.

      Instead, she was in what looked like a fervent embrace with a tall, muscular man with long dark hair. The other man’s hands were splayed possessively over the small of her back, his face nuzzled into the curve of her neck and shoulder. Her arms banded around him, the muscles in her arms flexing as she held him close. Michael couldn’t see her face, but it was blindingly obvious that he was about to step into what was clearly a very private moment.

      He would come back later. Maybe take Charlie for a walk around the block, then pop in again. Give Angie time to do…whatever with her friend. Or whoever the guy was.

      He took a step backward, already pivoting on his heel.

      Charlie resisted, straining against his grip. “Angie.” He pointed at the object of his affection.

      Angie’s head came up, eyes wide.

      “Charlie.” She stepped out of the other man’s arms as her gaze shifted to Michael. “Michael. What are you guys doing here?”

      She looked and sounded so surprised he suddenly felt a little self-conscious. “We, um, wanted to make sure you’re okay. But we can come back later.” He tugged on Charlie’s arm again. “Come on, matey. You want to go get some chocolate?”

      “Don’t be silly. You weren’t interrupting anything,” Angie said.

      Long-haired guy frowned, not liking the sound of that.

      “I can’t believe you came all the way into the city just to see me. How lucky am I?” Angie bent to scoop Charlie into her arms.

      His son happily sat on her hip, despite the fact that he’d squirmed his way out of Michael’s arms barely minutes before.

      “Angie,” Charlie said, reaching out to touch the sparkling earring dangling from her lobe.

      “I thought we could help you clean up, sort things out,” Michael said.

      Angie’s expression was soft with gratitude. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

      Long-haired guy shifted his weight ostentatiously, drawing attention to himself.

      Angie looked a little sheepish. “Sorry, I’m being rude. Carlos, this is Michael and Charlie. Carlos has a studio on the fourth floor.”

      “Good to meet you. I hope things didn’t go too badly for you last night.” Michael offered his hand.

      “I was lucky for once, since they skipped me. But poor Angie was not so lucky.”

      “No,” Michael said, very aware of the other man sizing him up.

      Carlos stepped closer to Angie and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I need to get back to my work, but we’re still on for lunch, yes?”

      There was a faint lilt to his voice, indicating that English was not his first language.

      “Can I call you? I really want to get as much of this sorted today as I can. I can’t afford to lose more time.” Her forehead was puckered with worry.

      “You have to eat, beautiful,” Carlos said. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, maintaining the contact longer than was strictly necessary. Almost as though he was trying to make a point—although to whom, Michael had no idea. “Call me, okay?”

      Carlos gave Michael a reserved nod before leaving. Angie jiggled Charlie on her hip, making him giggle.

      “This is a nice surprise, isn’t it? A lovely surprise,” she said. Her cheeks were a little flushed, as though she was embarrassed about something.

      Michael surveyed the room, taking in the graffiti and the pile of glass and other debris that had been swept into the corner. Pieces of a broken table and chairs lay beside it, and twin piles of books were stacked near the door. A mid-century sideboard

Скачать книгу