Blue Willow Read Free

distanced himself from the project admirably
    Lily had been right to accuse him of maneuvering himself into her life, unwanted, when he’d hired her husband and his partner to design Colebrook International’s new headquarters and when he’d made it difficult for her to turn down his request that her small landscaping firm create the interior gardens, but she could never accuse him of any motive except a desire to win her respect again.
    Julia turned and spoke to Richard Porter. Artemas watched the husky, broad-faced architect and thought how solid and intelligent and plodding he was, according to Julia’s reports. Like a goddamned mule.
    Frank Stockman made his way through the crowd on the bridge, carrying Lily’s son. Artemas felt a mixture of emotions for the boy—resentment because he was Porter’s blood, but affection because he was Lily’s. With the curly red hair—just like Lily’s hair—tousled on his forehead, he looked as cheerful and sweet as a Raggedy Andy doll.
    Artemas watched, surprised, as Richard frowned at his partner. Richard brushed past Julia and took Stephen from the other man’s arms.
    Elizabeth’s soft, startled voice broke Artemas’s concentration. “What was that ?” his sister said. He pivoted and saw her staring at the lobby’s white-marble floor.
    “I felt it too,” Michael said, tucking his inhaler into an inner pocket of his dinner jacket and frowning.
    “What?” Cassandra demanded.
    Elizabeth looked up at Artemas worriedly. “A tremor.”
    Alert, instantly aware of his command, Artemas swept a shrewd look around the crowded lobby. Other than a few murmured remarks and quizzical looks, the crowd seemed unfazed. He relaxed. “Probably a sonic boom. Something going on at the Dobbins airfields. A Lockheed test.”
    Cassandra exhaled a puff of white smoke and crushed her cigarette into her fluted glass. “Are you kidding? With our connections? The United States Air Force had better not rattle a Colebrook party.”
    When nothing else happened, Artemas fixed his attention on the bridge again, where Julia had just begun her welcoming remarks. Suddenly a hand settled on his arm from behind, the fingers digging rudely through the fine black cloth of his jacket, the grip aggravating and rough. Surprise and anger flooded him. Artemas turned and clenched the offending hand by its wrist.
    And met Lily’s frozen gaze. “Lily?” he said, his mind blank with confusion. Her complexion was chalky. Her gaze darted past him. In a voice so low only he could hear it, she said, “Look at the tapestry hanging on the wall to your left. Second story. Near the point where the bridge merges with the balcony. Don’t say anything. Just look.”
    He swiveled and followed her gaze. Cold horror slid through him, all other thoughts and emotions evaporating. A vertical crack easily ten feet long had opened in the wall alongside the tapestry.
    He raised a hand and signaled Michael, Cass, and Elizabeth with a soft snap of his fingers. They looked at him curiously. “Find the security guards,” he said, his tone soft and controlled. “Tell them to very quietly move people away from the bridge and off the bridge. We don’t want anyone to panic and run. Someone might be hurt.”
    Startled, they looked in the unwavering direction of his gaze. Elizabeth gasped. Cassandra carefully handed herglass to a passing server. Michael shot a grim look toward the people standing near the bridge’s overhanging staircases and said, “James. Alise.”
    He and his sisters pushed into the crowd—not frantic, but coolly determined. Artemas caught Lily’s arm as she angled past him. She whipped around and said in a barely audible but steely voice, “I don’t know if that crack means anything serious or not, but I have to get Richard and Stephen down.”
    “I’ll go with you. I’ll send Julia down and take her place, as if nothing’s wrong.”
    They moved toward the curving staircase, his hand still latched around