A Merry Little Christmas (18 page)

Donnie was in the best of spirits as he entered the lobby of the Cochran building from the elevator. He’d parked in the underground garage and could have taken the elevator directly to the executive floor, but he had a reason to stop on the ground level.
Tw
o reasons, actually: one was because he loved just looking at the building his brother had designed Adam had taken an abandoned brick structure and turned it into a modem marvel, an imposing edifice that combined the best of the new while revering the old glamour of a bygone Detroit.
 
The ground level had an old-fashioned arcade consisting of a newsstand a coffee bar, a florist, a barbershop, a gift shop and an old-fashioned apothecary complete with a soda fountain. There was never a vacancy for the leased areas and there was a waiting list for space that went on for years. The marble floors, the vaulted ceiling with the original light fixtures and the Diego Rivera murals that were rescued by Adam and restored by an expert crew hired by Alicia all lent an air of distinction that was unequaled in the city. The Cochran building was definitely a piece of prestigious real estate and another example of how Donnie had strengthened the company.

Donnie greeted several employees and acquaintances as he made his way across the lobby. His destination was the florist, where he purchased a spray of bird-of-paradise. Their exotic coloring and almost sculptural beauty made them the perfect choice in his mind. He was whistling softly as he crossed the lobby again and went down the hallway to the first-floor studio of
A
ngelique
D
everaux
,
F
ine
A
rt
P
hotography
,
B
y
A
ppointment
O
nly
. He smiled as he looked at the neat brass letters in a deco-styled font outside her door, then frowned as he looked through the glass to see Angelique and a strange man
;
a strange man who was holding her in his arms and kissing her.
 
Angelique came out of the man’s arms without a trace of embarrassment, even after she realized it was Donnie bearing down on her buzzer like a madman.

“Matt, this is the guy I was telling you about,” she said as she went to the door to open it. “You’re back,” she said to Donnie. “When did you get back?”

Donnie entered the studio with the air of a lion stalking its prey. He didn’t respond to Angelique’s question at first, but simply looked at her. She waved her hand in front of his face to get his attention.

“Hello? Hello, are you in there? Are those for me or are you redecorating?” she asked indicating the bouquet in his hand.

“They’re for you,” he said gruffly, thrusting the flowers at her like he was handing off a baton in a relay race or something equally unromantic.

Clearly pleased by the flowers, Angelique took them in her right hand and with her left, reached for Mateo’s hand. “Thanks,
Adonis
, that
was very thoughtful of you. This,” she beamed turning to face Mateo, “is my best friend in the whole world Mateo Antonio de Alfonso y Joaquin Santana. We haven’t seen each other in a long, long time and he’s come to visit,” she said still facing Mateo.

“Nice to meet you,” Donnie said although his face looked anything but happy to see the man. This Mateo was about six-one, slender but well muscled and very exotic-looking with curly black hair, tawny skin and long-lashed hazel eyes. He had a cleft in his squared chin, high cheekbones and a full, pouty mouth that looked like it had seen a lot of action. Donnie grew grim as he reflected that he had witnessed a little of that action himself.

Angelique took her hand away from Donnie’s and turned to put the flowers on the low table. Indicating the sofa, she suggested they sit down. Mateo sat at one end and she took a chair across from him. Donnie continued to stand, his expression unchanged. He was trying not to let it show but suddenly his stomach was churning and his head was pounding. This was not the reception he’d envisioned, not by a long shot. He’d anticipated giving the flowers to Angelique, making plans for a romantic dinner and maybe getting another one of her remarkable kisses.
Definitely one of those.
Instead he walked in to find her wrapped up with someone he’d never seen or heard of before. It suddenly dawned on him that Angelique was talking; he’d been too put off to really listen before. “I’m sorry, Angel, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

Still facing her friend, Angelique repeated what she’d said before, eliciting an odd response from Mateo, or Matt, as he was called. He gave Angelique a wicked grin and moved his fingers in the distinctive and unmistakable pattern of sign language. Angelique made a sound of disgust, and then signed back as she spoke to him.

“That is so rude. What have I told you about that? No, he’s not deaf, he’s just tired, and that’s why he didn’t hear me. Now behave yourself.”

She continued to talk to Donnie and signed while she was speaking to him. “Matt likes to think he’s funny, you have to excuse him,” she said, and shrieked as Matt playfully spanked her leg in retaliation. Signing rapidly, she said something that made Matt fall back on the sofa in laughter. She saw Donnie looking at the two of them and felt self-conscious for some reason.

“How was your trip? I hope it was successful,” she said softly. “You really do look a little tired.”

Donnie finally smiled at the concern in her voice. “Yes, it was very successful, as a matter of fact. Listen, I don’t want to take up your time, I see you’re busy.
How about if I call you later?”

“Sure, that would be fine.” After a second she looked at him quizzically. “Umm, do you have my number?” she asked, still signing.

Matt signed something that was apparently hilarious, as Angelique’s eyes widened and she burst out laughing. “He says
you
might not have my number but he has yours. I told you, he thinks he’s funny.”

In the elevator Donnie ground his teeth and thought he’d never met anyone less humorous in his life. He managed to get to his office without snapping anyone’s head off, but his mood hadn’t improved in the least. He took off his topcoat and tossed it on the chair across from his desk, walking over to the small walnut refrigerator in the comer of the office. He took out a cobalt-blue bottle of his favorite mineral water and opened it. Staring moodily out the window, he drank most of it without tasting a thing. Finally, he went to his desk and sat down, then picked up the phone and punched in a familiar number. After exchanging pleasantries, he got right to the point. “What are you doing after work? Okay, sure, I’ll be there. Thanks, Warren, I’ll see you then.”

Chapter Eleven

A few hours later, Warren was in the kitchen of his big, still mostly unfurnished house in Farmington Hills preparing dinner. He was completely at home in the kitchen, as was evidenced by the expert way he was putting together what looked to be a savory meal for a cold night. He placed fresh basil leaves under the breast skin of a roasting chicken while Donnie watched him.

Warren looked at his friend and made note of his foul mood. “What’s got you so down and out, man? I haven’t seen you like this since you got your ring returned.”

Donnie gave a half smile. “Technically, the ring wasn’t returned since it was never accepted. I need to get rid of it, too. I keep forgetting to take it back to the jeweler,” he reflected.

“Is that what’s got you looking like ten miles of bad road? Just take the ring back to the store, end of story. And take it back fast—you’re just asking for trouble having it lying around. Get rid of it,” Warren said. He rubbed the inside of the chicken and the neck cavity with pesto and placed a lemon half in each opening, then covered the plump bird with olive oil and finished with a sprinkle of sea salt and a twist of the pepper mill. Warren glanced at the wall clock before slipping the prepared bird into the oven. “You want something to drink?”

“Yeah, sure.
Anything,” Donnie said. He was sitting on a tall stool by the work island in the middle of the kitchen, leaning on his elbows and looking pretty much like Warren’s description. When Warren pushed a pilsner glass at him with some sort of red concoction in it, Donnie raised an eyebrow and looked at him questioningly.

“Drink it, it won’t kill you,” Warren said with amusement.

Donnie took a sip, and, s
ure enough, it
was pleasant to the palate, slightly fizzy and tart with an underlying sweetness. “This is good, what is it?”

Warren looked a little sheepish. “
It’s
pomegranate juice with lime-flavored Perrier,” he admitted. Before Donnie could revile him for serving a sissy drink, Warren added that it was Lisette’s favorite, which reminded Donnie of why he was so glum. Watching Warren prepare a perfect salad, he unburdened himself.

“Warren, I think I’m losing my mind,” he told him. “I work too hard, I play too little, I’m tired and I’m in love with somebody I can’t stand.” He gave a short laugh. “Okay, I’m exaggerating.
Of course I’m not in love with Angel, and I don’t mean that I can’t stand her but for som
e reason she’s on my mind a lot, a
whole lot. And today I almost went ballistic because she was hugged up with this guy she says is her best friend.”

He shook his head and told Warren the whole sorry tale, starting with his good-bye to Angelique and how he’d swept into her office bearing gifts, only to find her entwined with a tall, dark and handsome stranger. “Man, it was not my finest moment, believe me. I have no idea what made me so crazy but it was like I could feel all the molecules in my body rearranging themselves. I was ... I was ...” He groped around vainly for the right word while Warren poured red-wine vinegar into a mixing jar.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘jealous.’
You were jealous, pure and simple, Cochran, and it’s because you like Angelique more than you’re willing to admit,” he said wisely.

Donnie drank the rest of the pomegranate cocktail as he considered Warren’s words.
Jealous?
Me, jealous, of Angel and her little friend?
He tried to remember an occasion when he’d been jealous over a woman, especially one he hadn’t actually dated. No, it couldn’t be jealousy. “No, Warren, I don’t think that’s it. I think I was just caught off guard, that’s all. I just wasn’t expecting to see her with a guy.”

Warren finished adding finely minced rosemary and freshly ground pepper to the jar with the vinegar and wiped his fingers on a damp towel. Picking up a bottle of olive oil, he looked at Donnie with a pitying smile. “Cochran, give it a rest. You like Angel; you like her a lot and you don’t want to give it up to her. So go ahead, keep fighting it and make yourse
lf miserable. But remember this:
as long as you don’t deal with your feelings, you’re going to be miserable.
Serves you right, too.”

“Listen to Dr. Phil! When did you become an expert on relationships?” Donnie said in amusement.

Warren looked completely serious when he replied.
“When I found Lisette.
I’m not claiming to be an expert or anything, but I recognize the symptoms. It’s all
those years of medical training. 
I’m an excellent observer of human nature,” he said, raising his glass cheerfully.

“So tell me this, Warren. What made you all of a sudden decide to ask Lisette out? I thought you weren’t going to try to get close to her. I thought you had all these reservations and stuff. What changed your mind?”

Warren smiled, more to himself than to Donnie as he shook the salad dressing vigorously. Putting the jar into the refrigerator, he took out a bunch of asparagus and put it on the work island. “We were all spending a lot of time together, me and my little harem. If I went over to Angel’s house, she’d have Lisette and Paris there. If we went to a movie, it was usually the whole group. Lisette was just so sweet and pretty, it wasn’t like I could ignore her. You k
now what she looks like Cochran,
she’s a doll. And she has a wonderful personality besides. Well, the weekend of the auto show was what did it,” he said as he picked up the asparagus and washed it thoroughly.

“We all piled in the SUV and went off to
Cobo
Hall and the girls kind of disappeared. After we got in there they scattered and it was just Lisette and me. She and I walked around looking at the cars and talking, and then it happened.” He stopped speaking for a moment while he broke the tough ends off the asparagus.

Donnie tapped on the oak countertop to remind Warren that he was still in the room. “Then what happened? Don’t leave me hanging, man. You got any more of this?” he asked holding up his empty glass.

“It’s in the refrigerator. The juice is on the door and so is the Perrier. What happened was this: we were looking at a beautiful Bentley and the representative turns to Lisette and asks if she’d like to try the car out with her husband. She just smiled up at me and said yes and we got in the car,” Warren said simply.

Donnie looked confused. “That’s it? I don’t get it,” he said frowning at the cute POM bottle that held the pomegranate juice. It looked like a glass snowman.