The Trouble with Angels (Angels Everywhere #2)(56)

"I believe so.” Generally it was delivered around noon and tucked into the individual mail slots shortly afterward.

"I’m waiting for a word from my daughter,” Lucille said excitedly. "There’s a possibility she might be able to join me for Christmas.”

"That’s wonderful, Lucille.”

"I’m on my way up to my room now. Would you check my slot for me on the off chance Clarise has written? I’d so love it if we could be together.”

"Of course.” She watched as Lucille slowly made her way to the elevator. Although she’d almost completely recovered from the stroke, Lucille had worked diligently to learn to read and write all over again. The retired schoolteacher had looked tired just then.

Joy dropped off the envelopes and checked Lucille’s mail slot. Sure enough, a fat letter was stuffed inside. Rather than sending someone else to Lucille’s room with it, Joy decided to deliver it herself.

She waited for the elevator, which seemed to be getting slower all the time. Once she saw to Lucille’s letter, Joy decided, she’d call it an afternoon. Not that there was any rush to hurry home.

The elevator arrived, and she stepped inside. The doors had started to close when out of the corner of her eye she saw someone rush across the foyer in an effort to catch it. She pushed the button to stop the elevator, and the doors yawned open reluctantly.

Ted Griffin stepped inside. He seemed even more surprised to see her than she did him.

"Hello, Joy,” he said smoothly.

"Hello.” Her voice was small and uneven. She focused her attention on the row of numbers above the door while her heart played a renegade game of hopscotch.

Casually, as if he’d planned their meeting, Ted punched the number to his grandmother’s floor. The elevator started to move, but not fast enough to suit Joy. However, the speed of light wouldn’t have suited her just then.

"It seems a bit odd that out of all the people living and working in this retirement center, I would walk into an elevator with you,” he said as if there weren’t the least bit of friction between them.

"Not really.” Generally the fates were kinder than this, but she didn’t say so.

"How have you been?”

Ted seemed determined to keep the conversation humming. "Fine,” she said in the same cool tones.

"Yeah, me too.”

A tense, thick silence filled the cubicle, until Joy found it nearly suffocating.

"This might not be the time or place,” Ted said abruptly, and it sounded as though his patience were on a short fuse, "but I’d like to remind you that you owe me a date.”

"That’s not the way I remember it.”

He took a moment to compose himself, she guessed, then started again on a different track. "I know you’re upset because you saw me with Blythe.”

"She has nothing to do with this,” Joy insisted. She closed her eyes and snapped her mouth shut before she was drawn into an argument with him.

"Of course she does,” Ted contested.

"Do you mind if we simply drop the subject?”

"I do mind…I’ve missed you,” he whispered, and his warm breath fanned her neck.

Shivers raced down Joy’s arms, and she moved away from him. All at once the elevator came to a sudden, abrupt halt, jolting them both.

"What was that?” Joy asked. The lights dimmed and then faded completely, swallowing them in a dark void.

"Wonderful,” he moaned. "Just wonderful.”

"What?”

"It seems we just experienced a power outage,” Ted explained, sounding as disgruntled as she felt.

"We might be stuck here for some time,” he said next. "You might as well make yourself comfortable.”

"I’m fine. Just kindly stay on your side of the elevator and I’ll stay on mine.”

He snickered softly, sounding amused. "Don’t fret, you haven’t got a thing to worry about.”

Joe looked up from the television when Paul walked into the house. The visit with Madge Bartelli had left him mentally and physically exhausted. He probably wasn’t good company now.

"Where have you been?” Joe asked, and reached for the remote control, silencing the television.

"Anyone looking for me?” Paul asked, setting the evening paper on the kitchen table. He rarely read more than the headlines these days. The news depressed him. Killings, hate, crime. It wore him down in ways it never had in years past.

"Mrs. Johnson called,” Joe said. He stood and joined Paul in the kitchen.

Whatever Annie had fixed for dinner smelled delicious. Paul hoped his lack of an appetite wouldn’t insult his future daughter-in-law. He couldn’t visit the hospital and eat any time soon afterward. The institutional smells took away any desire for food. Leaving Madge and Bernard had left him emotionally bankrupt. He hadn’t the energy to sit down and chat the way he would have any other night.

"Did she say what she wanted?”

"No, she was hoping I’d know where you’d gone.”

Paul nodded.

"You know, Dad, it might not be a bad idea to inform Mrs. Johnson of your whereabouts.”

"I suppose I should.”

Annie stepped into the kitchen and smiled shyly in Paul’s direction.