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doesn't look like it, but we're nearly done. The carpenters just have a
bit of finish work here and there and mister-I mean the tile man is
coming Monday to finish the bath."
"It looks like a warehouse."
"Actually, it was a factory," Marianne chimed in. "We've sectioned it
off here and there with gla.s.s brick. That was Emma's idea. It's great,
isn't it?" She pointed to the waist-high wall that separated the living
area from the kitchen. "We got some terrific old appliances," she
continued, and taking his arm, gave him the tour.
"Emma's bedroom's going to be here. The gla.s.s makes it private, but
still lets in the light. I'm upstairs-a sort of combination studio and
bedroom. Emma's darkroom's already set up through there, and come
Monday the bath should be not only functional but attractive."
He hated the fact that he could see the potential. Hated it because it
made Emma seem less like his little girl than a woman, and a stranger.
"Have you decided to do without furniture?"
"We wanted to wait until it was finished." Emma knew her voice was
stiff, but couldn't prevent it. "We aren't in any hurry."
"Wanna sign here?" Buddy pushed a clipboard under her nose. "You're all
set." He blew his nose into a red bandana, then eyed Brian. "Hey. Hey,
aren't you-well, sure you are. I'll be d.a.m.ned. McAvoy. You're Brian
McAvoy. Hey, Riko, this here's Brian McAvoy. Devastation."
"No s.h.i.+t?"
Automatically Brian's lips curved into a charming smile. "Nice to meet
you."
"This is great, just great," Buddy went on. "My wife's never going to
believe it. We had our first date at your concert here in T5. Can I
get your autograph?"
"Sure."
"Jesus, she's never going to believe this." While he searched in his
pockets for a s.n.a.t.c.h of paper, Emma picked up a notepad and handed it to
her father.
"What's your wife's name?" Brian asked Buddy.
"It's Doreen. Man, she's going to drop dead."
"I hope not." Still smiling, Brian handed over the autograph.
It took another ten minutes, and an autograph for Riko, before they were
alone again. Taking her cue, Marianne disappeared up the curving
wrought-iron s"airs.
"Got a beer?" Brian asked.
"No. Just some soft drinks."
With a restless move of his shoulders, Brian wandered to the front
windows. She was so exposed here. Couldn't she see it? The big
windows, the city itself. The fact that he'd bought the first-floor
unit and installed Sweeny and another man inside didn't seem to matter
now that he was here to gauge the situation himself She was vulnerable.
Every time she walked out on the street.
"I was hoping you'd choose somdthing uptown, with security."
"Like the Dakota?" she said, then cursed herself "I'm sorry, Dad. I
know Lennon was a friend."
"Yes, he was." He turned back. "What happened to him should make you