Marc hadn’t been overly understanding of her fickle artistic process. He’d parked his hands low on his hips. “I’ve still got to tear down these useless secondary walls, brace the foundation, check for trouble spots like mildew and pests, and install insulation and drywall. You’ve got loads of time to figure out the pretty stuff.”
She recalled the way he’d said pretty stuff with a hint of disdain and a small dismissive wave of his hand, which had sullied her impression of him probably more than he realized.
And here he was, yet again, trying to make her life difficult. This was her last chance, and he wouldn’t make it easy. She was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t intentionally impeding her. If Brendan could get hired, surely he could get someone else inside the company, as well.
Sera checked her watch. Kathleen’s birthday dinner was a short hour away. The small gift wrapped neatly and tucked away in her purse weighed on her. It would either be a huge blunder or a blinding success. She’d decided maintaining distance between herself and Grant didn’t necessarily mean keeping Kathleen at arm’s length. Kind, wise, funny, and sweet, Kathleen embodied the female presence Seraphina had always craved in her life. The last thing she wanted was to be late for the party.
So she couldn’t afford to screw up her carefully laid plans to gain access to the bedroom before Marc began dismantling the following day. It was now or never. “Of course. We shouldn’t forget our humble beginnings. And ideally, I’d like to get the sun coming down, casting that eerie glow into the old bedroom. I’ve got keys, and I promise to lock everything down before I leave. I’ll leave before it’s dark out. I won’t be long at all, in fact.” She injected a note of dismissal and a shot of command into her tone. Marc didn’t outrank her. Nor she him. But she wasn’t going to budge on this, and he couldn’t make her.
For a moment he watched her, as if gauging her determination. Finally, he shook his head, gave her a final doubtful glance, and then nodded. “If you say so. You’re the creative brain, after all.” With a short farewell, he and his crew began shuffling toward the exit.
She moved slowly as they filed out, letting the click of the camera punctuate the thudding of work boots on wood. While a few men remained to complete small tasks of their own before clocking out for the day, Seraphina began cataloging in earnest.
She fully intended to go through with the before-and-after venture. A Then and Now collection she could present to the city as a sort of appreciative token for their being so accepting of the plans for Tanbee House. Besides, she ought to do something useful, besides pretend to be an amateur sleuth.
Even as she rolled her eyes at herself, a thrill ran up her spine. There was something exciting about this undercover operation stuff. Despite the warmth of the day still clinging to the inside of the house, it could’ve been the dead of night for how anxious she was. She glanced around in between snaps and flashes of the camera, probing darkening corners and empty doorways for shadows that shouldn’t be there. Maybe she was being silly, getting inside her own head, but the break-in hadn’t been a joke. She didn’t want to stick around any longer than she had to, heightened security or not.
Twilight came slowly, clear daylight shifting into a cheesy orange-ness. The beauty of it defied her inept description. Carefully, she photographed her way toward the bedroom. Once inside, she didn’t waste any more time, but rushed to the hole where she’d found the small baggie and stuck her hand inside.
Relief spiked as her fingers brushed across the rubbery outside membrane of the small round packages. They were still there. She stuck the long camera lens down into the hole, as close she could manage without blocking the flashbulb, and snapped several pictures. She checked the small screen for quality—useless evidence if the image she captured wasn’t clear. She smiled at the clear photo. They were golden. With that knowledge came a swift desire to get the hell out and away before it was too late. Too late for what?
She had no idea. All the same, some nameless fear tickled her senses and tapped restless fingers across her spine. Her head swiveled, checking her surroundings once, and then again. She forced herself to stay, clawing past her sudden anxiety, to take another dozen or so artistically arranged photographs of the bedroom. It would be questionable if there were none in the finished portfolio.
With that done, in careful, measured strides, she left Tanbee House, locking up everything nice and tight. She stood at the gate for a beat, catching a glimpse of the patrol car as it rounded the corner. What would happen when Marc Curry’s crew dismantled the wall and discovered the drugs? Would they be retrieved by then? Would the authorities get involved? They might have to shut down production.
Seraphina didn’t know the answer to any of those questions. Nor did she have any idea if she’d done the right thing. Technically, by telling Oliver, she’d reported finding the drugs to the authorities. But even she wasn’t naïve enough to believe spying for him was considered the “proper” channels. Her mind ran through a litany of potential laws she was breaking.
Eventually, she flung the worries away and strode toward the busiest street in the area, where a cab could be easily hailed. She’d answer for her crimes, if it came to that. Of course, another part of her was shaking its head at her lack of faith. Oliver and Kay would never abandon her to fend for herself. She should know better than that.
* * * *
Grant didn’t realize the depth of the tension coiled inside him until Seraphina slipped into the restaurant. A sigh escaped him, one he hoped Kathleen hadn’t heard, and he waved, greeting her with a warm smile. Kathleen perked up when she noticed, and began bobbing her head to catch sight of their final party guest.
The three of them were seated equal spaces apart at a small round table that allowed an intimacy for close conversation. Grant had been careful to avoid making anyone feel like a third wheel. Himself included.
He smiled wryly at Kathleen’s beaming face, her cheeks bunched into perfect round apples from the force of her smile. Her face was flushed a rosy pink with delight. Today, she wore a dress he’d given her as an early birthday gift, since she’d already donned her very best the day she met Seraphina. He couldn’t have her attend her own party wearing anything second best. She adored the sweater top, white with fat yellow roses, and the thick yellow cotton skirt that went with it. He might’ve lost touch with how to talk to Kathleen—really talk to her, the way that Seraphina did so naturally—but he had his mother’s taste in clothing down to a fine science.
As a greeting, Kathleen reached over and held one of Seraphina’s hands for a beat. The smile shared between them sent something warm and somehow foreign sliding around in Grant’s chest. He squirmed, unable to pinpoint what had made him suddenly uneasy. No, not uneasy. Nor easy, exactly. Something undefinable. For now, he put it from his mind as just another tick on the list of new and strange things Seraphina made him feel.
“Ladies, plan on a light breakfast. Because dinner is going to be a doozy. You’re not going to be hungry again for a good, long while.” He winked at Kathleen, knowing she’d get a kick out of such funny words coming from his mouth. When the waitress came around, he allowed his mom to write out her drink order, because it made her feel better to do so. He didn’t begrudge her what independence she could manage.
But when it came to the food, he stepped in, ordering family style. He chose three appetizers, always carefully keeping Kathleen in mind. Stewed brussel sprouts and prosciutto sounded atrocious, but he noted Kathleen’s small approving nod as he added it to his request. Twice-baked sweet potatoes with honey butter, and after conferring with Seraphina, a fruit and cheese platter. After that, he added entrees and sides on a whim. Rosemary pot roast and roasted root vegetables, a favorite of Kathleen’s. Shrimp scampi, barbeque shredded brisket, fresh tomato and pesto gnocchi, and lemon pepper and dill salmon. He added a bowl of fresh pickled vegetables, a basket of soft potato rolls, creamy grits with smoked
cheddar, and collard greens and ham. His last request before the waitress scampered off was a stack of small plates, for passing and sharing, and the dessert menu.
“It’s a lot,” he confessed to Kathleen’s consternation. Seraphina’s expression mirrored Kathleen’s thoughts, eyebrows high on her forehead. “It’s a party,” he reminded them. “Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking any leftovers home with you for tomorrow. Not that the meals at Heritage Acres are anything to sniff at, of course.”
Seraphina smiled when Kathleen shrugged and nodded affably. She scrawled a note. Thank you, Grant.
“You misspelled ‘you’re welcome.’” The quip won him another smile. He’d never seen her smile so much. She always had a happy, lighthearted disposition. She always appreciated his small jokes, and effortlessly lightened the moods on days when he came to her with a heavy heart or burdened mind. But today, Kathleen shone like the sun, sweeping her beaming smile over the whole world. She scribbled again. It’s all one and the same.
He shrugged at that. As if somehow taking her out to dinner for her birthday made up for the years she’d taken care of him. That it seemed so effortless to earn her gratefulness almost made him ashamed. Why didn’t he do things like this more often? He couldn’t recall when he’d stopped being her burden, and she’d become his.
Seraphina didn’t help matters, the way she genuinely embraced Kathleen and enjoyed her company. Then he recalled that Kathleen was something of a novelty to her; a wise older woman, with a ready smile and a good heart. Any envy he harbored at how quickly the two of them became friendly dissipated then and there.
Their round of iced teas was delivered, with thick wedges of lemon clinging to the lips of their glasses. Seraphina took a sip through the straw, her pale, round blue eyes open wide and sweeping from Grant to Kathleen. “Okay. I was going to wait but I just can’t.”
She leaned to one side, her face disappearing as she ducked and rummaged through her purse. She came up with a small rectangular item, slightly bigger than her palm, and wrapped in garish paper. “I’m nervous. I won’t be able to relax until I give you your gift.”
She handed the package to Kathleen, who took it with a shy smile, slightly shaking her head. She set the present down to pick up her pen, but Seraphina stopped her. “No, please. I know you’re going to say something incredibly sweet, and it’ll just make me feel awful if I got this wrong.”
Grant had an idea of what the gift might be. The shape and apparent heft was telling. He was both chagrined and shocked at himself for not thinking of it first. Years ago, in fact. “Go ahead, Mom,” he urged.
It was strange to watch his self-assured mother fumble with the paper self-consciously. He wondered when the last time she’d been given a gift by someone who wasn’t him. Kathleen’s eyebrows gathered in puzzlement as she withdrew the big, black cell phone, the size of a small tablet, from the wrapping.
Seraphina flushed red. “I hope you like it. This one is special, because I modified it. See?” She showed Kathleen a brilliant yellow button on the side. “That’s an on and off button,” she explained. “Just one press. And once you turn it on, there’s a screen with a single icon.”
Kathleen grinned as the screen lit up at the press of the button, seemingly delighted the device had responded to her command. The grin stretched her mouth wider, and she held up the screen to show Grant. One icon. A fat yellow notepad and blue pen.
“Just a tap with your finger.” Seraphina’s careful guidance was patient. “A new screen comes up. See? A list of names. Right now, there’s just two. Me and Grant.”
His mom held the phone up to show him again, her confusion gone now. A few taps of her finger, and she’d come to the list. And there was his name, just above Seraphina’s.
Seraphina finally smiled, relieved by Kathleen’s easy handling of the device. It was a bit large for her hands, but no larger than the pad of paper she carried with her. And for the sake of Kathleen’s eyesight, it would need to be a bit large. Seraphina pointed to Grant’s name. “Then you tap whichever name you like to open up a conversation. I checked with Heritage Acres, they’ve got Wi-Fi. So, no matter where you are, or what time it is, you can talk to Grant.” She shrugged humbly. “Or me. Any time at all.”
Kathleen’s eyebrows gathered again, but this time in concentration. She set the device down and leaned over it, typing with her fingers as if the flat digital keyboard were a typewriter, although slowly as her hands adjusted to the size. Food arrived, and still she typed, slowly and carefully, as Grant and Seraphina arranged the dishes and small plates around the table.
Grant handed Kathleen a plate with a pile of brussel sprouts and mashed up sweet potatoes at the same time she tapped the ‘send’ button and sat back, pleased with herself.
Seraphina had just picked up her fork when her phone jingled. She pulled it from an inside pocket of the soft brown blazer she wore. Her eyes scanned the screen, and then she was laughing girlishly, her head tossed back, and her free hand reaching for Kathleen’s. “Well.” And that was all she said, after a judicious throat clearing.
Grant looked from one woman to the other. “Well?”
With a surreptitious glance at Kathleen, Seraphina showed him the message.
My friend Bettie has one of these and she lets me type her messages sometimes. She likes to send pictures of little red rockets to Mr. Bill.
He felt his face flush and ducked his head to hide the burning blush. Well, indeed. He had no idea Kathleen knew what an emoji was, let alone that she had some little old lady friend up to date on the, uh, peculiarities of sexting. The devious twinkle in Kathleen’s eyes as she delicately scooped a bite of sweet potato informed him she was not ignorant as to what the red rocket implied.
He rubbed his face and blinked at Seraphina as she giggled into her napkin. Her face was red, too, but for an entirely different reason than his own. Such a pair they made.
And there it was. That moment. The moment. A moment he’d recall for the rest of his life.
He loved her. He looked around himself, at Kathleen, happily tapping away on her new device, gleeful in her ability to communicate on a brand new level, a level denied her for years. At any time, she could reach out. He looked to Seraphina, who maybe didn’t realize how open she became in Kathleen’s presence. Her edges softened, her careful poise relaxed. Grant swung his gaze from one to the other and saw a family forming, bonds reaching and stretching, effortlessly breaking through erected barriers. Suddenly, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to make Seraphina apart of his family. It was a small circle, damaged by old hurts, one that only someone who knew something of that sort of pain could fill. They could heal together. They could heal each other.
He gazed at Seraphina wonderingly, acknowledging the uneasiness he’d felt earlier; a response, he realized, to his heart tumbling over in his chest.
She caught his stare and cocked her head. “What?”
“I think we should do this more often, that’s all.”
Kathleen took a break from her tapping to glance up and nod. Seraphina’s phone jingled again. She read, then smiled up at Kathleen. “You’re welcome, of course. I’m so glad you like it. Right now, there’s only the messaging app, but there are games and other programs you can add. I can stop by anytime and fix it up however you like. Bigger letters or a different background picture.”
Kathleen tapped out another message, a faint smile on her face as she did so.
Seraphina’s phone pinged. “Hm. Well, I’m glad Bettie will have you to message when she has insomnia. You should know, I don’t sleep well, myself. If you ever find yourself staring at the ceiling in the wee hours of the night, you might try me.”
Kathleen nodded gratefully to that, but Grant doubted she’d do it. “You could text me, too. Any time, ever.” Him, now, she might feel no qualms about disturbing in the middle of the night.
The rest of the meal went by in an easy companionship Grant couldn’t recall feeling in a good, long while. Maybe not since his college days, when he’d had a group of friends he saw regularly. He didn’t have many friends these days, and if he had, there was little spare time for him to indulge in their company. He went nuts and ordered every slice of cake on the dessert menu, which the three of them passed around and around, debating whether the chocolate tart was better than the cheesecake. He wallowed in the high color on Kathleen’s cheeks and her girlish bashfulness when a circle of wait staff arrived to sing “Happy Birthday,” their voices carrying across the entire dining room.
He was almost shocked to realize they’d spent nearly two hours at dinner. He decided it had been, all said, one of the best days in a very long time. It wasn’t every day, after all, that a man realized he was hopelessly in love, or found himself surrounded by happy women. One who loved him, and one who could learn to. His heart ached for the possibilities today represented, a future where days like today were commonplace instead of blips on the straight line of his existence.
A shuttle from Heritage Acres arrived to take Kathleen home. She hugged him hard around the neck, and Seraphina, too, mouthing her thanks more than once. She wedged her new cell phone down in the purse where she held her old pen and pad.
He and Seraphina stood on the corner a short while later, uselessly hailing cab after cab as they whizzed by without seeming to notice.
“Walk?” she suggested after one more failed attempt.
Grant nodded. A cab would be quicker, but they weren’t so far from Seraphina’s apartment. From there, he’d try again for a cab. He sighed. “I can’t believe I never thought to do that for her.”
Seraphina shrugged. “It was a gamble. I had no idea she had any kind of experience. Most of her generation don’t have any use or desire for technology.” She laughed softly. “I’m going to carry that message about the red rockets with me until I die.”
From the Top Page 17
