“So she’s definitely met you before.”
“Okay smart-ass.”
Soren’s smile faded. “Seriously, my friend. I think you just need some rest.”
“You’re probably right.”
“And as for the girl, if she turned you down, she ain’t worth it.” Soren smacked him on the shoulder.
Nick grinned. “Or maybe she knows what’s good for her. I suck at relationships. Can’t get beyond the dating stage. As soon as it gets serious, I head for the hills.”
Soren frowned. “Weren’t you serious with that one who…”
“The one who died. Katy.”
“Sorry.”
“That was seventeen years ago. I was barely twenty-one, and the fact is, it was casual. I mourned her, but it wasn’t like I was married to her.” Almost everyone in Manhattan had known someone who’d lost their life on 9/11. Katy had been a good friend, a fun date, and an undeniable hero, but he hadn’t loved her in the way Soren loved Rhonda.
“And no one special since?”
He shook his head. “Not my bag. Too busy saving the world.”
Soren laughed. “Northern Manhattan anyway. You take on almost twice the cases of any other detective in the borough. And that last one. Ugh.”
The last case he’d cracked had been difficult. Domestic abuse. Husband murdered his wife. Nick had solved the murder just in time to pull the bound teenage daughter from a car her father had set on fire. He’d been awarded the Governor’s Medal of Valor for that one. The honor didn’t help him sleep at night, but knowing the murderer was behind bars did.
“I like to know I’ve made a difference. And it’s not like I have a Rhonda at home waiting for me.”
Soren stood and gave him a wink. “Well, don’t work too hard. You know what they say about all work and no play.” He gave a two-fingered salute before slipping out the door and returning to work.
Nick frowned. “Yeah, it keeps you from getting your heart broken.”
* * *
“Miss Rowan,do you like my picture?”
Rowan stopped behind Elijah as she navigated the rows of children painting at their desks. For three decades, she’d been running Sunrise House, teaching art to children in the way Alexander had taught her when she was a whelp. Art had come naturally to her brother, but not to her. Only through his patience and perseverance had she learned that bringing a paintbrush to canvas could be an escape. She’d desperately needed an escape back then, from the Obsidian Palace, her mother’s expectations, and from the wants and needs of her native realm of Paragon. Her goal was to provide that same escape to these children.
She loved these kids. She provided a safe place for them from the time school let out until the early evening when, under the best of circumstances, a parent or relative could be home to meet them. Under the worst circumstances, she was the only real adult influence in their life, and she took that responsibility seriously.
All the children came from disadvantaged backgrounds. Some were simply poor. That was the best scenario. A poor child who was both healthy and loved was very lucky indeed. It was the neglected kids she tried to focus on. The ones she knew left an empty house and went home to the same. She fed them, provided clothing, paid for their transportation. She had children who came all the way from the Bronx. Everyone was welcome, and she enrolled as many as the large building she owned could hold. Sunrise House was in an ideal location, in close proximity to the train and those in need. She was free now and she was rich, and she applied both those blessings liberally to helping the children of Sunrise House overcome their circumstances.
“Oh, this is very good, Elijah. I love your use of color and perspective in this piece.” Rowan made sure to put on her most serious face as she assessed Elijah’s painting over his shoulder. The nine-year-old didn’t want a flippant compliment but her undivided attention. He’d painted Sunrise House as many of the children here did. In many ways, this place was home to them. “Tell me about your painting.”
“I wanted it to look happy since everyone here is always happy.” Elijah turned to look at her, and she could see dusky circles under his dark brown eyes. “This is the sun, and I made just one cloud in the sky because it’s a sunny day. This is Sunrise House, and this is you and me holding hands.”
“What’s this?” Rowan pointed to the corner of the painting where there was a figure sitting in a dark box.
“That’s me at home. The lights in our house don’t work anymore, so it’s always dark.”
“Your family doesn’t have electricity? Is your water working?”
“Yeah, the water still works.”
Rowan forced her face to remain impassive for Elijah’s sake. She’d look up his address later and have her lawyer, Adrienne, pay off the family’s bills and get the lights back on. It was something she did regularly.
“Did you have dinner yet? The chicken is here.” Today was Wednesday. Roasted chicken, white rice, broccoli, salad, fresh fruit, bread. She was firm with the catering company. Healthy, well-balanced meals. “You can go get some if you’re hungry.”
