Part 11 (2/2)
Her mom reclaimed the phone with a muttered, ”I will not allow you to give my daughter lessons on seduction.” Then to Grace she said, ”How's Alex doing? Is he eating enough? He never eats enough when he goes on these expeditions of his.”
With each word, dread uncurled inside of Grace. ”So you haven't talked to him?” she asked, hoping her fear and uncertainty were masked. ”He hasn't called you?”
”Well, no,” her mother said. ”Is he back? He's back, isn't he, and just didn't call?”
”No, I just-” Just what? Don't know if he's eating enough because no one's heard from him in several weeks?
”What's going on, Grace?” Worry tinged her mom's tone. ”You took tins trip specifically to see your brother. Why don't you know how he is?”
”Does this have anything to do with the man who called us?” Sophie asked, her voice clear enough that Grace knew she was still standing over her mom's shoulder.
”What man?” she demanded. ”When?”
”Someone called for Alex about a week ago,” her mom said. ”Asked if we'd heard from him, if we knew where he was. Grace, what's going on? You're worrying me.”
To tell the truth, or not tell the truth... She loved her mom and hated to cause her any worry. Yet, as Alex's mother, Gretchen had a right to know that her son was missing. The worry might make her sicker, though. She'd tell her, Grace decided then, but not now, and not over the phone. She'd wait a few days and see if she learned anything new. No reason to cause her mom anxiety until absolutely necessary.
”You know how Alex likes those doughnuts,” she said, evading. And not lying. ”I can say with one hundred percent surety that he's not eating right.” He never did.
”So he's okay?” her mom asked, relieved.
”I'd tell you if anything was wrong, wouldn't I?” Again, evading and not lying, since she'd posed the words as a question.
”You've always told the truth,” her mom said proudly, then tsked under her tongue. ”I swear, your brother is a walking advertis.e.m.e.nt for heart disease. Maybe I'll send him some soy m.u.f.fins. I can FedEx them. Does FedEx deliver to Brazil?”
”Not in the heart of the jungle.”
”I'll send him a Cindy Crawford workout DVD,” Sophie called.
”I doubt his tent has an electrical outlet.”
”He has to go to his hotel room sometime,” her mom said.
Grace rubbed her temple. ”I hate to do this, but I've got to let you go.”
”What! Why? You haven't told me about your trip. Did you do any shopping? Did you visit with the natives? I hear they walk around... ” She paused and uttered a scandalized gasp, ”Naked.”
”Unfortunately I didn't see them. Which is too bad, since I'd promised to take pictures for Aunt Sophie.””Speaking of Sophie, she's wondering if you brought her a souvenir.”
”I was not,” her aunt said.
”I'll come by in a few days and give you all the details. Promise.”
”But-”
”Bye. Love you.” Grace gently placed the receiver in its cradle and cringed. Oh, she was going to be punished for that one. A never-ending lecture, followed by a reminder every time her mother needed a favor. ”Do you remember the time you hung up on me? I cried for days.”
Rolling her eyes, Grace punched in one last number. Her friend Meg was head of reservations for a major airline, so she had Meg check all databases for Alex's name. He wasn't listed, but that didn't mean anything. He could have flown private.
Not about to give up, Grace stuffed her keys, wallet and a can of Mace into her favorite backpack. She caught a subway to the Upper East Side. She needed to find her brother, or at least find proof that he was okay.
He'd always been there for her as a child. He was the one who bandaged her cuts and bruises. He was the one who held and comforted her when their dad died. They both traveled extensively, but they always managed to make time for each other.
Please, please let Alex be home, she inwardly recited, a mantra in rhythm to the rocking of the car against the rails. If he was home, they could spend the rest of the day together. Maybe have dinner at Joe Shanghai in Chinatown, a favorite restaurant of theirs.
Soon she was strolling past the security desk at Alex's apartment building. He'd lived in the ritzy building only a short time.
Despite her few visits, the doorman must have recognized her because he let her pa.s.s without a hitch. After a short elevator ride, she found herself knocking on Alex's door. When he didn't answer, she used her key and let herself inside. Only three steps in, she paused with a gasp. Papers were scattered across the thick, wool carpet.
Either someone had broken in (again!), or her brother the neat freak had left in a hurry. ”Alex,” she called, remaining in the foyer.
No response.
”Alex,” she called again, this time louder, more desperate.
Not even the shuffle of footsteps or the hum of a fan greeted her.
Though she knew she shouldn't, knew she should call for help first, Grace withdrew her Mace, holding the can out as she inspected every inch of the s.p.a.cious apartment. Her need to know Alex's whereabouts completely obliterated any sense of caution.
There was no intruder lying in wait for her, but there was no sign of her brother, either. She walked to the living room and lifted a framed photograph of her and Alex, smiling and standing in Central Park, the sun glistening around them. Her aunt had taken the picture several months ago when they'd all decided to jog around the park. Two minutes into their run, Sophie had panted that she was too tired to continue. So they'd taken a break and snapped the picture. The memory made her ache.
Disheartened, Grace locked up and leaned her back against the door. A few seconds later, a man strolled past. ”Excuse me,”
she called. She flashed him a quick, I'm-a-sweet-Southern-girl smile that proclaimed you-can-tell-me-anything. She only hoped it worked. ”You live in this building, right?”
He nodded wearily. ”Why?””Do you know Alex Carlyle?”
”Yes.” Again, he asked, ”Why?”
”He's my brother. I'm looking for him and was wondering if you'd seen him.”
Her words relaxed him, and he gave her a half smile. He even held out his hand to shake. ”You're Grace,” he said. ”The picture Alex has of you in his office is of a little girl. I thought you were younger.”
”At the office?” Grace asked. ”You work for Argonauts?”
”Nearly everyone here does. They own the building.” He paused, his smile fading to a frown. ”Unfortunately I haven't seen your brother in weeks. He hasn't been home, or even to work.”
”Do you know anyone he might have contacted?”
”Well, Melva in 402 has been picking up his mail... I saw her this morning. She's rent controlled,” he whispered, as if it were a shameful secret. ”Argonauts can't get rid of her. Not legally at least.”
Grace gave him her biggest, brightest smile. ”Thank you,” she said, taking off. Her first break. Another elevator ride and she was hammering on Melva's door.
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