“Embarrassed.”
“Please don’t be.”
“Well, let me get out of here so you can see your real patients.” She reached for Sylvie, but he turned to keep the cat in his own arms.
“Not so fast,” he said. “Tell me how you’ve been.”
The crush of news from the past week raced through her mind. Paul was back; Paul was remorseful. But she didn’t want to talk about Paul.
“I was about to start on a new stained glass project,” she said, “but Tom’s decided he can’t teach me any longer.”
“How come?” Alec’s eyes suddenly widened. “Not because of the situation with Annie, I hope.”
She nodded.
Alec scowled. “That’s ridiculous. I’ll talk to him.”
“No, please don’t. It might just make things worse.”
“What will you do about the stained glass then? Are you going to quit?”
“I’ll find a way.”
“I’ve got a bunch of Annie’s old tools just sitting at the house. Why don’t you stop by and see if there’s anything you need.”
The relief she felt was completely out of proportion to his offer. “Did she have a grinder at home?”
Alec nodded. “Come over tonight.” He handed Sylvie back to her, and his fingers lightly brushed the top of her breast through her blouse. “My kids will probably be there. They can chaperone us. Keep us out of trouble.”
She set her hand on the doorknob, but made no move to leave. She looked up at him. “I felt the baby move early this morning.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, and she couldn’t read his expression. She shrugged, embarrassed. “I just wanted to tell someone,” she said as she opened the door.
“Olivia,” he said, and she turned to look back at him. “It’s Paul you should be telling.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
He took Annie’s tool case and grinder down from the hall closet for the first time in seven months and carried them into the den. The case was made of soft brown leather, dusty now, and the sight of it was enough to start an aching deep in his chest. He dusted it off with a tissue before opening it, spreading it flat on Annie’s old work table, steeling himself against the odor, an old, familiar smell, at once metallic and soapy, a mixture of Annie and her tools.
The tools were not in their little pockets but strewn haphazardly as she had left them. Pliers, glass cutters, rolls of solder and copper foil, three-bladed scissors. He was a little embarrassed to have Olivia see this, to see exactly what Annie had been like in all her disorganized glory. He could picture her sitting here in the den, continually fighting with her hair as it slipped into the path of her work. She’d grab the bulk of it in her hands, give it a twist, and toss it over her shoulder, an unconscious gesture he had seen in her since the first night they’d met. It would be good to have Olivia take some of these tools. Put them to good use. Give them a second life.
“Why do you have Mom’s tools out?”
He turned to see Lacey standing in the doorway. Her hair was growing out into an almost comical pattern of red and black.
“Olivia Simon’s going to borrow some of them.”
“Why can’t she use Tom’s?”
“Tom’s not teaching her right now, and she’s to the point where she needs some tools of her own, so I suggested she come over to take a look at Mom’s.”
“She’s coming
“I was never actually going out with her, Lace. She’s a friend. I explained that to you.” He wondered if asking Olivia over here tonight had been a mistake. He could have dropped the tools by her house. The memory of the last time he was in her living room slipped through his mind, and he shook his head. Well, he could have dropped them by her office.
The doorbell rang, and he heard Clay sprint down the stairs to answer it. He’d spoken to Clay earlier, letting him know Olivia was coming over and why, and Clay had responded with an uncharacteristic, positively lecherous grin. Now Alec heard Olivia’s voice in the living room, and Clay’s laughter in reply.
“I have to study,” Lacey said, taking the door that led to the kitchen rather than the living room so she would not have to pass Olivia on her way upstairs.
Olivia and Clay walked into the den.
“I’m on my way out, Dad,” Clay said.
Alec looked up from the tools. “Okay. Have fun.”
Olivia smiled as she watched Clay leave the room. She had on a pink and white striped jersey dress with a dropped waist. It was perfect for her, he thought, the perfect camouflage. No one would know if she were pregnant or not.
“Your son looks so much like you it’s uncanny,” she said, setting her tote bag on the chair by the work table. She dropped her eyes to the tool case. “Wow.”
“These are kind of a mess,” he said. “Annie would have been able to pick out what you need without any problem, but I can’t begin to tell you.”
