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"It was my property, twice. My woman, twice." His eyes had gone very cool. "You know where to find me if you need me, Lieutenant."
She grabbed his arm. "If 'my woman' is your new way of saying 'my wife,' I don't like it any better."
"I didn't think you would." He gave her a friendly kiss on the brow. "See you at home."
She didn't bother to snarl. Instead, she contacted Peabody to let the rest of the team know they were heading in.
• • •
Clarissa raced into the workroom where Zeke was quietly fashioning the grooves for the tongue-and-groove joints on his cabinet. He glanced up in surprise, noted that her eyes were huge, her face flushed.
"Did you hear?" she demanded. "Someone tried to set off a bomb in Radio City."
"In the theater?" His brow furrowed as he set down his tools. "Why?"
"I don't know. Money or something, I suppose." She brushed a hand over her hair. "Oh, you're not using the entertainment center. I thought you would have heard. They aren't giving out any real details, just that the building's been secured and there's no danger."
She fluttered her hands as if she didn't know what to do with them now. "I didn't mean to interrupt your work."
"It's all right. That's such a beautiful old place. Why would anyone want to destroy it?"
"People are so cruel." She ran a fingertip along one of the smoothly sanded boards he had stacked on a worktable. "Sometimes there's no reason for it at all. It just is. I used to go to the Christmas show there every year. My parents would take me." She smiled a little. "Good memories. I suppose that's why I got so upset when I heard the news. Well, I should let you get back to work."
"I was about to take a break." She was lonely—and more. He was sure of it. Out of politeness, he avoided looking beyond, scanning her aura. He could see enough in her face. She'd used enhancers carefully, but the faint bruise on her cheek showed, as did the results of weeping.
He opened his lunch sack, took out his bottle of juice. "Would you like a drink?"
"No. Yes. Yes, I suppose I would. You don't have to bring your lunch Zeke. The AutoChef is fully stocked."
"I'm sort of used to my own." Because he sensed she needed it, he smiled. "Got any glasses?"
"Oh, of course." She walked to a doorway, disappeared through it.
He tried not to pay close attention. Really, he did. But it was such a pleasure to watch her move. All that nervous energy just under the seamless grace. She was so tiny, so beautiful.
So sad.
Everything inside him wanted to comfort her.
She came back with two tall, clear glasses, then set them down so she could study his work. "You've already done so much. I've never seen the stages of something being built by hand, but I thought it would take much more time."
"It's just a matter of sticking with it."
"You love what you do." She looked back at him, her eyes just a little too bright, her smile just a little too wide. "It shows. I fell in love with your work the first time I saw it. With the heart of it."
She stopped, laughed at herself. "That sounds ridiculous. I'm always saying something ridiculous."
"No, it's not. It's what matters to me, anyway." He picked up a glass he'd filled, offered it. He didn't feel tongue-tied and miserably shy around her as he often did with women. She needed a friend, and that made all the difference. "My father taught me that whatever you put of yourself in your work, you get back twice over."
"That's nice." Her smile softened. "It's so important to have family. I miss mine. I lost my parents a dozen years ago and still miss them."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I." She sipped the juice, stopped, sipped again. "Why, this is wonderful. What is it?"
"It's just one of my mother's recipes. Mixed fruit, heavy on the mango."
"Well, it's marvelous. I drink entirely too much coffee. I'd be better off with this."
