“Actual cities,” she specified. “Not just a few buildings huddled together around a couple of streets.”
“Actual cities, darling
. Even west of the Mississippi there are actual cities.”
She mulled. “Rural. That’s got to be harder than urban.”
“Rural Nebraska. When I find the property, it goes in your name.”
“Wait a minute.”
“Your challenge, your name. I may lose you your shirt.”
“I’ve got plenty of shirts,” she countered. “You just keep buying them.”
She drove into visitor’s parking at Nadine’s swanky new building. The scanner read her plate, flashed a level and slot.
“Looks like Nadine reserved something.”
Once parked, they walked to one of the corner elevators, stepped in.
“Roarke and Dallas for Nadine Furst,” Roarke said.
You are cleared directly to Ms. Furst’s penthouse. Enjoy your visit.
“Why does it care if we enjoy anything?”
Roarke smiled at her. “It’s simply polite.”
“Computers don’t have to be polite. Efficient. That’s all I want out of a machine.”
It proved efficient, sending them up, angling them over, and up again with barely a sense of movement.
“Did you buy this building when it was under market?”
He grinned, smugly. “And then some.”
“But you didn’t sell it.”
“Some things you keep.” He took her hand as they stepped off into the hushed, wide hallway. “I’m fond of this building, and happy Nadine chose it.”
“Suits her down to the ground.”
She pressed the buzzer on Nadine’s well-secured, tri-level penthouse.
Nadine, dressed in at-home wear of snug black pants and sweater, opened the double doors to the entrance foyer.
“I got two for one.” She smiled, moving in to kiss Roarke. “I’m glad I can show off more of what I’ve done with the apartment.”
“The entrance is lovely,” Roarke said, studying the colorful bottles in wall niches, the flowering plants, the matching love seats.
“I love living here more every day.” Ignoring Eve, Nadine took Roarke’s hand, drew him into the living area. “I’m still finding pieces—that’s half the fun—but it’s already home.”
“Eve’s right. It suits you.”
Bold colors, strong art, a zillion—to Eve’s eye—fancy pillows bunched together over sofas in what was probably an artistic way.
“What is that?” Eve pointed.