Read Online Double Jeopardy by Bobby Hutchinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Bobby Hutchinson
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much a doctor. He’d left his door open, and now he stood aside so she could go in ahead of him.
A big brown dog came trotting over to her, wagging his tail and sniffing her pant leg.
“This is Grendel. He’s friendly and harmless. Useless as a watchdog, but great as a companion.”
Sera loved dogs. She hunched down and let the dog sniff her and lick her cheek. “Hiya, fellow.” Grendel woofed and offered a paw. Sera took it and the dog made happy whining noises.
“That’s it. Now he’s in love. He’s a pushover for the ladies,” Ben pronounced. “He’s not gonna let you move anymore without him underfoot.”
“We’ll manage, won’t we, boy?” Sera scratched behind Grendel’s ears and got to her feet, looking around. “Wow, is this ever big.” It was a penthouse loft, with huge skylights set in a cathedral ceiling. There was a compact, well-equipped kitchen to the left of the entrance. On the right was open storage area, with a racing bike hung on a hook and an enormous heap of sports paraphernalia on the floor.
Intrigued, Sera walked farther, into a huge living room that ended in a dramatic wall of glass stretching from the bare plank flooring almost up to the ceiling two stories overhead. It gave a panoramic and breathtaking view of the harbor, the North Shore mountains and the busy streets of Gastown far below. The day had been hot and sunny, and even though it was late in the evening, light still streamed in through the window and trickled down from the skylights.
“Oh, I love this. I envy you this space. What a fantastic place to live. I’m renting a furnished apartment with a view, but it’s nothing like this.”
“Thanks. I really like it here.” It was obvious her sincere praise pleased him.
At one end of the cavernous room, Ben had set up a table for sculpting and drawing. A long piece of plywood held clay and a canvas wrapped work- in-progress. An easel sat beside it, with oils and charcoals scattered on the floor and table.
“This is spectacular, all this space,” she breathed, turning slowly in a circle, her eyes following the floating staircase up to the loft. Each time she moved, Grendel moved with her, gazing up at her with limpid brown eyes.
“I’m really glad you approve,” Ben said. “I just don’t know how to furnish it.”
“The possibilities are endless.”
He laughed. “Not to me they’re not. Before you get into explaining, how about a drink? I have wine, soda, orange juice. Or I can make coffee or tea.”
“I’d love a glass of wine.”
“So would I.” He headed into the kitchen, and she patted the dog and watched as Ben opened a cupboard, found stemmed glasses, took a dark bottle from the fridge and poured chilled white wine.
“Sit down.”
Glancing around again, Sera realized her choices were limited: one of four bar stools fronting the half wall that opened to the kitchen, or either of two plastic lawn chairs set up before a large television.
Sera chose a lawn chair, and Ben followed her lead, sinking into the other one. Grendel plopped down in the space between, his head on Sera’s feet, his tail thumping irregularly on Ben’s.
“Cheers.” Ben lifted his glass to her. “How was Gemma this evening?"
Like a crazy person, Sera wanted to say. Her sister had thrown things, cried, torn up notes before anyone could read them. “She’s pretty scared about the operation,” she finally said, realizing now that was the real reason for Gemma’s tantrums. “She’s afraid you won’t be able to make her look the way she did. Afraid of being scarred and disfigured, of having people stare at her and feel sorry for her. She hates not being able to talk, having to write everything down.” Being able to verbalize the things she instinctively knew were bothering her sister helped. It dispelled some of the irritation and utter frustration that Gemma’s behavior caused. The wine helped, as well. It was cool and tart, smooth and refreshing.
“Gemma
A big brown dog came trotting over to her, wagging his tail and sniffing her pant leg.
“This is Grendel. He’s friendly and harmless. Useless as a watchdog, but great as a companion.”
Sera loved dogs. She hunched down and let the dog sniff her and lick her cheek. “Hiya, fellow.” Grendel woofed and offered a paw. Sera took it and the dog made happy whining noises.
“That’s it. Now he’s in love. He’s a pushover for the ladies,” Ben pronounced. “He’s not gonna let you move anymore without him underfoot.”
“We’ll manage, won’t we, boy?” Sera scratched behind Grendel’s ears and got to her feet, looking around. “Wow, is this ever big.” It was a penthouse loft, with huge skylights set in a cathedral ceiling. There was a compact, well-equipped kitchen to the left of the entrance. On the right was open storage area, with a racing bike hung on a hook and an enormous heap of sports paraphernalia on the floor.
Intrigued, Sera walked farther, into a huge living room that ended in a dramatic wall of glass stretching from the bare plank flooring almost up to the ceiling two stories overhead. It gave a panoramic and breathtaking view of the harbor, the North Shore mountains and the busy streets of Gastown far below. The day had been hot and sunny, and even though it was late in the evening, light still streamed in through the window and trickled down from the skylights.
“Oh, I love this. I envy you this space. What a fantastic place to live. I’m renting a furnished apartment with a view, but it’s nothing like this.”
“Thanks. I really like it here.” It was obvious her sincere praise pleased him.
At one end of the cavernous room, Ben had set up a table for sculpting and drawing. A long piece of plywood held clay and a canvas wrapped work- in-progress. An easel sat beside it, with oils and charcoals scattered on the floor and table.
“This is spectacular, all this space,” she breathed, turning slowly in a circle, her eyes following the floating staircase up to the loft. Each time she moved, Grendel moved with her, gazing up at her with limpid brown eyes.
“I’m really glad you approve,” Ben said. “I just don’t know how to furnish it.”
“The possibilities are endless.”
He laughed. “Not to me they’re not. Before you get into explaining, how about a drink? I have wine, soda, orange juice. Or I can make coffee or tea.”
“I’d love a glass of wine.”
“So would I.” He headed into the kitchen, and she patted the dog and watched as Ben opened a cupboard, found stemmed glasses, took a dark bottle from the fridge and poured chilled white wine.
“Sit down.”
Glancing around again, Sera realized her choices were limited: one of four bar stools fronting the half wall that opened to the kitchen, or either of two plastic lawn chairs set up before a large television.
Sera chose a lawn chair, and Ben followed her lead, sinking into the other one. Grendel plopped down in the space between, his head on Sera’s feet, his tail thumping irregularly on Ben’s.
“Cheers.” Ben lifted his glass to her. “How was Gemma this evening?"
Like a crazy person, Sera wanted to say. Her sister had thrown things, cried, torn up notes before anyone could read them. “She’s pretty scared about the operation,” she finally said, realizing now that was the real reason for Gemma’s tantrums. “She’s afraid you won’t be able to make her look the way she did. Afraid of being scarred and disfigured, of having people stare at her and feel sorry for her. She hates not being able to talk, having to write everything down.” Being able to verbalize the things she instinctively knew were bothering her sister helped. It dispelled some of the irritation and utter frustration that Gemma’s behavior caused. The wine helped, as well. It was cool and tart, smooth and refreshing.
“Gemma
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