Envy(83)

“An aggressive and abrasive—”

“Ball-buster.”

“Who would blow in here, disrupting the peace and trying to intimidate us with her New York sophistication and superiority. Instead, Maris was… well, you know better than I what she was like.” As an afterthought, the old man said, “All the same, she did make an impact, didn’t she?”

Yes, she had. Just a much softer, more feminine impact than Parker had expected. He glanced at the vase on the coffee table. Maris had gathered sprigs of honeysuckle during a morning stroll and had asked if he would object to her putting them in water. “Just to brighten the room up a bit,” she’d said.

Mike, infatuated with her to the point of idiocy, had turned the kitchen upside down until he found a suitable container. For days, the wild bouquet had filled the solarium with a heady fragrance. Now it was an eyesore. The blossoms were shriveled, the water swampy and smelly. But Parker hadn’t asked Mike to remove it, and Mike hadn’t taken it upon himself to empty the vase. It was a reminder of her they weren’t quite ready to relinquish.

The shells she had collected on the beach were still spread out on the end table where she’d proudly displayed them. When she carried them in, her feet had been bare and dusted with sand. They’d left footprints on the tile floor, which she had insisted on sweeping up herself.

His dying houseplant was rallying because she had moved it to a better spot and had watered it just enough, not too much.

Two fashion magazines that she’d browsed through while he worked on his novel were still lying in the chair she’d last occupied.

It was that throw pillow there, the one with the fringe around it, that she had hugged to her breasts while she listened to him reading a passage from his manuscript.

Everywhere he looked, there was evidence of her.

“She’s an intelligent woman,” Mike said. “She proved that. Smart but sensitive.”

Mike was speaking in a hushed voice, as though he felt her spirit in the room and didn’t want to frighten it away. Which annoyed Parker more than if he’d scraped his fingernails down a chalkboard. They were acting like saps. He as much as Mike. A pair of sentimental fools.

And anyway, who said his room had needed to be brightened up a bit? He had liked it just fine the way it was before Maris Matherly-Reed had ever darkened the door.

“Don’t get misty, Mike,” he said, a shade more harshly than he had intended. “She plays sensitive because she wants a book from me.”

“A book. Not income. I don’t think she cares if Envy makes her company a red cent. She loves your writing.”

Parker shrugged indifferently, but secretly he agreed. In spite of the haggling, Maris seemed much more interested in the storytelling aspects of his book than in its earning potential.

“She can also laugh at herself. I like that in a person.” Then, looking at Parker askance, Mike added, “I guess there’s no need mentioning that she’s beautiful.”

“Then why’d you mention it?”

“So you noticed?”

“What, you think I’m blind as well as lame? Yeah, she’s good to look at.” He made a gesture that said, So what? “Her looks were no surprise. We saw her picture in that magazine article.”

“The photo didn’t do her justice.”

“I expected her to be attractive. Noah never dated an ugly girl,” Parker muttered. “Not that I knew about.”

When Mike declined to comment one way or another, Parker went on. “You know what? I’m glad she’s attractive. Real glad. It’ll make what I’m going to do all the more enjoyable.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You know I never talk over a plot until I’ve written at least some of it down. Guess you’ll have to use your imagination.”

“You’re going to use Maris.”

“Fuckin’-A. And if you don’t approve of my language, cover your ears.” He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. The air conditioner was working, so why did it feel so damn hot in here? “Now, can we please end this discussion? I’ve got work to do.”

Mike calmly finished his glass of lemonade, then rifled through the manuscript pages again. At last he stood, crossed to Parker, and passed the sheets to him. “It’s coming along.”

“Don’t go overboard with the praise,” Parker said drolly. “I might get a swelled head.”

On his way out, Mike said, “You may want to rethink your motivation.”

“My characters’ motivation is perfectly clear.”

Mike didn’t even deign to turn around and address Parker face-to-face when he said, “I wasn’t referring to your characters.”





Chapter 19


“This is my favorite room.” Maris basked in the familiar comfort of her father’s home study, where they were having cocktails.

At the last minute Noah had needed to consult with the contracts manager over a disputed clause, so he had urged her to go to Daniel’s house ahead of him. She hadn’t minded his being detained. Since her return from Georgia, she hadn’t spent any time alone with her father.

“I’m rather partial to this room myself,” Daniel said. “I spend a lot of time in here, but I like it even more when you’re sharing it with me.”