Part 245 (1/2)

disappointment was so great, he compensated by tras.h.i.+ng the loft. It

took him nearly an hour to vent his frustration, ripping clothes,

breaking gla.s.sware, hacking cus.h.i.+on after cus.h.i.+on in the sectional with

a knife he'd taken from the kitchen.

He thought of the paintings, stacked up in the studio. Knife in hand,

he started up when the phone rang. He stopped, jumping at the sound. He

was breathing hard, sweat rolling into his eyes. There was a trickle of

blood from his lip where he'd gnawed through while slas.h.i.+ng the sofa.

On the fourth ring, the machine picked up. ”Marianne.”

Drew bolted down the steps at the sound of Emma's voice. He'd nearly

yanked up the receiver before he caught himself ”You're probably still

in bed, or up to your elbows in paint, so call me later. Try to make it

this morning. I'm going to the beach later to practice my surfing. I

can stay up for more than ten seconds. Don't be jealous, but it's going

to hit ninety in L.A. today. Call soon.”

L.A., Drew thought. Turning, he stared at the mural of Emma on the

plaster wall.

WHEN MARUNNE PHONED an hour later, Emma was on her way out the door. She

closed it, locked it again before she answered.

”Hi there.” Marianne's voice was drowsy and content.

”Hi, yourself You just getting up? It must be nearly noon in New York.”

”I'm not up yet.” She snuggled back against the pillows. ”I'm in bed.

The dentist's bed.”

”Having a tooth capped?”

”Let's just say that he's got talents that extend beyond dental hygiene.

I called my machine for messages and got yours. So, how are you?”