She wasn’t ready to hear he was dead or wrecked beyond repair in any way.
Speaking of dead guys...
“Is now when I ask about the body in the rug?”
Angelina pulled out her concierge desk chair and dropped into it. “Put a pin in that for a second. I think you have a more pressing question.”
Here it comes. She’s going to tell me about Dad.
Shee braced and stopped scratching the dog. Harley Two stomped her foot with annoyance.
Angelina leveled her stare. “I assume you saw him with the drone?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Angelina stood and adjusted her blouse. “I have to go.”
“What?”
“I have to help them. They can’t do it without me.” She waved a hand toward the front of the hotel. Out front, the giant stood staring through the glass front door like a hungry kid outside an ice cream shop.
“Who is that enormous man? It must have taken a whole bolt of fabric to make that shirt.”
Angelina flashed a genuine smile, revealing her affection for the man. “Bracco. He has aphasia, but he makes a great doorman. Would you try to bum rush this hotel with him outside?”
Shee winced at the memory of the New Hampshire giant. “You’d be surprised,” she mumbled.
“He’d do anything for your father.”
Shee’s head cocked. Angelina’s sentence resonated very present tense.
“So, to confirm, Mick’s not dead?”
Angelina laughed. “No, he’s not dead. Why would we leave him dead in his bed?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Why are you wrapping bodies in carpets?”
Angelina’s mouth pulled to the side. “So you noticed him?”
“Uh, yeah. Your girl Croix almost dropped him to the floor.”
“Croix graduated the Naval Academy with honors. Mick adores her.”
Shee recoiled as if Angelina had slapped her.
Ouch.
“You said that to hurt me.”
Angelina shrugged. “I’ll be honest. I’m a little angry at you.”
“Fair enough.” Shee began to see a pattern. A giant with aphasia, a girl with a promising Naval career, instead working at a hotel...
“Sounds like Mick’s creating his own little Island of Broken Toys.”
The corner of Angelina’s mouth curled into a smile. “Something like that.”
“And the dead guy?”
“Captain Rupert. Retired Army. Mick found him living alone nearby, no family, riddled with cancer. Gave him a room and, eventually, a morphine drip.”
“So Dad’s a doctor now, too?”
“He has people.”
“And this guy was rolled in a carpet because...”
Angelina sighed. “Because we promised we’d bury him with his wife, but the cemetery said no. He sold his adjacent plot to cover bills and they’d resold it.”
“So you’re going to add him to his wife’s grave in the middle of the night?”
Angelina nodded. “And I have to go. I made a deal with the night guard to get us in.”
“Can I go see Dad while you’re gone?”
“No.”
Shee scowled. “You can’t stop me.”
“Sure I can.” Angelina pulled the chain on her neck out of her blouse to reveal a key at the end of it. “You can’t even get to his floor without the elevator key.”
Shee covered her eyes with one hand and then pulled her palm down her face. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“What?”
“I’ll help dig. Unless you made a deal with a guy with a backhoe, too?”
“That would wake the whole subdivision next door.”
Shee took a step toward the front door. Angelina grabbed her arm, her jaw set, her eyes threatening to overflow a third time. “We’ve been trying to find you for years, Shee.”
Shee looked away. “I didn’t want to endanger you.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Angelina stormed away and then just as suddenly spun on her heel to return. Shee took a step back, certain the woman was going to hit her.
Harley’s black eyes shot in the direction of her agitated mommy and she moved to the edge of the desk, whining. Angelina scooped her into her palm and pressed her against her chest.
Therapy dog, indeed.
“You make me so mad—you made me forget my dog.”
Angelina’s glare threatened to slice Shee in two. The dog hadn’t succeeded in changing the subject. The concierge strode toward the door again, making it one extra step before spinning to reverse course again.
Shee’s neck retracted an inch.
Here it comes. Now, she’s going to hit me.
Angelina spat words as she approached. “I’ve missed you and I’m going to hug you, whether you like it or not.”
Shee relaxed a notch. “Go ahead,” she said, trying to match Angelina’s agitated tone. “I’m going to pretend I don’t like it, but secretly enjoy it.”
Angelina wrapped her arms around her and squeezed hard, while still being careful not to crush the Yorkie. The dog scrambled against Shee’s chest, though she didn’t know if it was from irritation or a desire to get involved in the hug.
Shee pressed back, letting her cheek rest on Angelina’s shoulder.
It had been a long time since she hugged someone she loved.
It felt good.
It also made her feel a little crazy.
Maybe I should let go before I can’t.
“I—” Shee started, unsure what she might say.
Angelina saved her the trouble and cut her short as she stepped back.
“There’s no excuse. Now it’s too late,” she said, adjusting her blouse.
“What do you mean?”
Bracco knocked on the door and Angelina turned and motioned she’d heard him. “We have to go. We have a small window—”
“Wait. What do you mean, it’s too late?”
Angelina’s diamond-edged glare returned. “You waited this long. You can wait a little longer.”
“But you said—”
“There’s no hurry, Shee. He’s in a coma.”
Angelina strode toward the front door, Yorkie peering over her shoulder to see if Shee would follow.
