He winced at that. Did he look so old? “No, I’m fine,” he repeated, then pointed. “You’ve got another customer now.”
She turned, but looked back at him doubtfully, and then headed over to her next customer.
Simon sat here for a long moment, more pissed at what appeared to be happening again than he could have imagined. He had thought the whole psychic thing was done and over with. After all, he had a logical connection to the last case. He had congratulated himself on avoiding his grandmother’s prediction of a one-way street down the psychic pathway because, ever since they’d found the pedophile ring, he’d been sleeping perfectly once again. No nightmares, no more visions of boys, nothing—well, except for that one black-and-white vision. Otherwise awesome. He’d thought it open and shut forever.
As he sat here, trying to regain his equilibrium, all he could do was watch as a series of thirteens slammed into his brain in a repetitive motion—just like when you finished an online game of solitaire, and the cards did a weird little shuffle pattern at the end of it. But, in his case, every card said thirteen.
Not knowing what to do with the information, he did what he always did. He pulled out his phone and texted the number to Kate. And then he laughed because no way she would have any clue what that was all about. Hell, he didn’t either, and that was the problem. She always expected him to have some idea, and, of course, he didn’t. He was hoping this would mean something to her. It often had, but no guarantee that it would this time.
And, of course, bringing her back to mind also brought back their conversation from this morning and had him wondering about her mood. The knowledge that she had wandered that bridge earlier in her life, contemplating the suicides of her friends, had him off-kilter. It just was a bit hard to imagine. She said she’d never gotten that far herself, but to have been there at all said a lot about where her mind-set had been.
It couldn’t have been easy being blamed for the loss of her younger brother, particularly when she’d been only a child herself. But since her mother couldn’t accept any of the responsibility herself, it had been much easier to push it off on her other child. And the fact that Kate got some closure for the families in some of these pedophile cases, yet nothing that had anything to do with her own brother, just made it that much harder. The wounds would still be raw for her. Simon hated that she did so much work for so many other people, but just no justice was out there for her. He hoped that one day there would be, but that could be a long time coming.
When his phone buzzed, and he saw a question mark from her, he just laughed and sent a smiley face and a message.No clue but that’s what came up.
And he carried on. Hopefully she’d come up with her own answer. He had a lot of work to do yet and was tired and getting cold. He raced through the next couple potential buildings for purchase and ended up seeing more than he had planned when the Realtor had reached out and suggested a couple more that he should take a look at. Since he was already here, and his mind was on the work, he went through all of them and then started back home again. He had gotten a bit farther from home then he’d intended to, so he grabbed a cab and got dropped off outside his place. It was almost dinnertime.
By the time Simon entered the lobby, Harry, his usual daytime doorman, smiled broadly at him, until he got a good look at Simon.
“Oh dear,” the doorman said. “Long day?”
“Yeah, long day,” he said, shaking his head. “Some of them are just that way.”
“I hope you picked up a meal for yourself.”
“Nope. I didn’t get that far,” he muttered. “Though I should have.”
“How about I order something in for you?” he said immediately. “You know you can’t keep working like this, if you don’t feed yourself.”
Simon laughed at that because it was one of the arguments he always used against Kate to get her to eat properly. She was always on the go and missing solid meals. The last thing he wanted to do was follow in her footsteps in that regard. Besides, anything from Mama’s place was to die for. He nodded. “The special of the day at Mama’s would be great. If you could bring it up,” he said, “I’ll pay you then, if that works.”
“Not a problem,” Harry said. “We’ve got a fund here for just such emergencies.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Otherwise I can pay you right now.”
“Let me bring it up, and then we’ll know what it actually cost.”
With that, Simon headed upstairs, the rain starting just before he made it home. He threw off his suit and hopped into a hot shower. By the time he came out, dried off, and had redressed in gray slacks and a black turtleneck, he felt 100 percent better. When the doorbell rang, he walked over to his penthouse elevator door, checked the peephole, and opened it to the doorman. “Wow, that was fast, even for you, Harry.”
“That’s Mama for you. The minute she heard it was for you, she was all over it.”
Simon laughed. “What would we do without her?” He checked the tab, then pulled bills from his pocket. “Here’s for the meal and a tip for you and a tip for her.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said respectfully. “I’ll make sure this gets to her.”
“You do that. You know I’ll ask.”
The doorman laughed, knowing full well Simon would do no such thing because they had a mutual trust and respect that didn’t require it.
With that, Harry headed out swiftly.
When the elevator door closed, Simon locked it behind him and took the very large container to the kitchen, where he placed it on the counter and opened it up. Mama always sent far more food than was necessary. He didn’t know if she thought he kept a harem at his place that she had to feed at the same time or if she figured he could at least eat good food two days in a row. Regardless he had to appreciate it because her food was always good home cooking. She was Italian and had married a Mexican man, and the two of them had somehow created a special cuisine between them that worked. Simon didn’t even know what to call it, but it was good. It was hot. It was fresh, and, as always, it went down with joy.
Even hearing that phrase made him want to laugh and to cry at the same time. He’d heard it time and time again. Some Japanese woman was all about joy and finding joy in the day, in your life, even in your possessions, and making a fortune with that.
He looked around and smiled. “Well, I find joy in my location. Does that count?” There was some merit to what he said because he definitely only liked to take on buildings where he found joy in their rehab because it was one of the things that he loved to do. He loved to see something old and broken-down be fixed and brought back up to their former glory again. Or sometimes they just needed to be completely dropped and rebuilt in the same space, but that didn’t give him the same sense of accomplishment as a restoration.
And, as such, he wasn’t too thrilled with three of the buildings he’d looked at today. One of the latter ones held the most promise, but still he wasn’t into getting pushed by the Realtor. As he sat down to his meal, the Realtor called him. He looked at the number and just let it ring. No way he would answer her call and ruin what was no doubt the best meal he’d had in several days.