Read Online Someone's Watching by Sharon Potts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharon Potts
Ads: Link
hundred people who now know the name Fieldstone.”
“I must be dense. Why does that matter?”
“You know,” Brett said, as though she was supposed to. “For her husband.” He surveyed the emptying room. “I’ll just check with Mike, then we’re out of here. There’s a new restaurant I want to take you to.”
Robbie sat down on a sofa near the atrium to wait for him andopened the book. A lot of work had gone into it. She doubted that Gina had gone to all this trouble just to advance her husband’s career.
She flipped through the pages. The book contained stories about women who had also been forced to give their children up for adoption. In many cases, there were photos of the mother happily reunited with her child after many years. But the photo of Gina at the end of the book was of herself alone. She had never found her own daughter.
Robbie noticed the skinny server with long black hair and blue eyes standing behind an areca palm, stuffing hors d’oeuvres into her mouth.
She closed the book. She wondered what Kate was doing at this moment. She checked her cell phone for messages.
There were none.
Chapter 10
After the Fieldstone event, it turned out Brett couldn’t go for dinner after all. Something unexpected had come up, Brett explained to Robbie, and Mike needed him. He offered to drive Robbie home, but she preferred walking alone, relieved to be away from the South Beach tumult.
She went to bed early, but her mind was caught up in memories. Her childhood house on the St. Johns River, Spanish moss hanging from towering oak trees, frogs croaking in the stillness. Her dad returning home from the hospital after a late night emergency call. How he stood on the flagstone patio that smelled like magnolias, staring at nothing.
What’s wrong, Daddy?
A smile that she knew he’d faked for her.
I didn’t know you were there, princess. Come give your old man a hug
.
And she had. She’d hugged him as tight as she could, but she knew it wasn’t enough to make his sadness go away. Then later that night, she overheard him talking to her mother.
There’s nothing I can do
, he told her.
Absolutely nothing
.
Robbie finally got out of bed around eight in the morning and changed into her running shorts and tank top. Her route took her across the north end of Lummus Park and up the stamped-concrete path that ran alongside the ocean. Seagulls squawked above her and the sound of waves breaking helped clear her head. She passed thecondo that housed the health club where Jeremy sometimes worked, and glanced over at the beach hoping to see his lean, tanned body doing pushups or running a client in the sand. But there were only a couple of sunbathers stretched out on towels.
Running had always been an outlet for her. There were days in Boston when she’d run for miles, even in the cold of winter. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she didn’t have friends or because it gave her an excuse not to make any.
The path continued up wooden steps to the boardwalk, the planks absorbing her pounding footfalls. She heard a growing chuffing noise overhead. A helicopter crossing above her.
At 41st Street, she ran down the boardwalk steps and cut over to Indian Creek, where she turned back south. She was perplexed by what she saw. Cars were backed up along Indian Creek Drive and a cop was redirecting traffic. There was rarely a buildup here, especially on a weekday morning. Robbie slowed her jog, noticing flashing lights, police cars, vans from the TV news stations. A collision? Or had a car gone into the creek?
She slowed down, curious, but she couldn’t see much. A crowd had gathered—a mix of tourists and locals from the low-rise buildings and old hotels along Indian Creek. The helicopter was hovering directly overhead like a vulture; it had the logo of a local news station.
Robbie stood next to a heavyset guy in shorts and flip-flops holding a plastic bag from Walgreens. Sweat had beaded on his forehead.
“I must be dense. Why does that matter?”
“You know,” Brett said, as though she was supposed to. “For her husband.” He surveyed the emptying room. “I’ll just check with Mike, then we’re out of here. There’s a new restaurant I want to take you to.”
Robbie sat down on a sofa near the atrium to wait for him andopened the book. A lot of work had gone into it. She doubted that Gina had gone to all this trouble just to advance her husband’s career.
She flipped through the pages. The book contained stories about women who had also been forced to give their children up for adoption. In many cases, there were photos of the mother happily reunited with her child after many years. But the photo of Gina at the end of the book was of herself alone. She had never found her own daughter.
Robbie noticed the skinny server with long black hair and blue eyes standing behind an areca palm, stuffing hors d’oeuvres into her mouth.
She closed the book. She wondered what Kate was doing at this moment. She checked her cell phone for messages.
There were none.
Chapter 10
After the Fieldstone event, it turned out Brett couldn’t go for dinner after all. Something unexpected had come up, Brett explained to Robbie, and Mike needed him. He offered to drive Robbie home, but she preferred walking alone, relieved to be away from the South Beach tumult.
She went to bed early, but her mind was caught up in memories. Her childhood house on the St. Johns River, Spanish moss hanging from towering oak trees, frogs croaking in the stillness. Her dad returning home from the hospital after a late night emergency call. How he stood on the flagstone patio that smelled like magnolias, staring at nothing.
What’s wrong, Daddy?
A smile that she knew he’d faked for her.
I didn’t know you were there, princess. Come give your old man a hug
.
And she had. She’d hugged him as tight as she could, but she knew it wasn’t enough to make his sadness go away. Then later that night, she overheard him talking to her mother.
There’s nothing I can do
, he told her.
Absolutely nothing
.
Robbie finally got out of bed around eight in the morning and changed into her running shorts and tank top. Her route took her across the north end of Lummus Park and up the stamped-concrete path that ran alongside the ocean. Seagulls squawked above her and the sound of waves breaking helped clear her head. She passed thecondo that housed the health club where Jeremy sometimes worked, and glanced over at the beach hoping to see his lean, tanned body doing pushups or running a client in the sand. But there were only a couple of sunbathers stretched out on towels.
Running had always been an outlet for her. There were days in Boston when she’d run for miles, even in the cold of winter. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she didn’t have friends or because it gave her an excuse not to make any.
The path continued up wooden steps to the boardwalk, the planks absorbing her pounding footfalls. She heard a growing chuffing noise overhead. A helicopter crossing above her.
At 41st Street, she ran down the boardwalk steps and cut over to Indian Creek, where she turned back south. She was perplexed by what she saw. Cars were backed up along Indian Creek Drive and a cop was redirecting traffic. There was rarely a buildup here, especially on a weekday morning. Robbie slowed her jog, noticing flashing lights, police cars, vans from the TV news stations. A collision? Or had a car gone into the creek?
She slowed down, curious, but she couldn’t see much. A crowd had gathered—a mix of tourists and locals from the low-rise buildings and old hotels along Indian Creek. The helicopter was hovering directly overhead like a vulture; it had the logo of a local news station.
Robbie stood next to a heavyset guy in shorts and flip-flops holding a plastic bag from Walgreens. Sweat had beaded on his forehead.
Similar Books
