cuffs and shoulder blades. The muscles were like old rubber bands.
“Alvin,” she cried out, and he knew by the tone of her voice what she needed. He pranced over to the side of the bed and leaned against it. Very slowly, Elena put a hand out and used his strong body to brace herself so she could ease out of the envelope of covers, one inch at a time. He was patient, happy to have a job to do to serve his beloved.
It nearly always brought tears to her eyes. How had she lived so long without a dog? This dog.
Easing into a squatting position, she stretched the lower spine, not a pain-free process. She used yoga breathing to get through it, to the point where she could actually stand. From there, she hobbled into the bathroom and ran very hot water in the Jacuzzi bathtub. Alvin trotted along beside her, looking up worriedly.
“It’s all right, honey,” she said, gratefully.
The tub proved to be too tall to climb into. She tried. Up two steps, brace herself on the side, lift the leg—
No way. Feeling ninety, she pulled a big purple towel off the rack, wrapped herself in it, and sat down on the step. Alvin stuck with her, leaning on her shin.
No tears, she told herself, gritting her teeth.
Gathering resources, she ran her fingers through Alvin’s long fur, tugged on the velvety black ears, and tried to figure out what to do next. She had the meeting this afternoon, the first with her new staff, and she had to be able to put a good foot forward.
A shower. It wasn’t as therapeutic as the hot water in a bathtub, but the warmth would help a little, and this was a high-end shower with a bench and jets that came out of the wall every which way. Half bent over, unable to completely straighten, she turned it on.
There was a little plaque of instructions on the wall. To Operate Mr. Steam, it began, turn the nozzle below to the right and wait.
Steam?
Elena followed directions. From behind the walls came the gurgling sound of water boiling. After a minute, jets of steam came from the nozzles, filling the glassed-in space perfectly. A light above the stall gave it a cheery aspect, and she hobbled in, pulled the glass door closed behind her, and settled on the bench.
Nirvana.
By the time she emerged, her joints were still a bit stiff, but functional. She wanted to send Julian Liswood a love poem.
Patrick arrived just before lunch, driving a black BMW convertible he’d rented in Denver. “It suits you,” Elena said, capturing her hair in her fist so it wouldn’t end up with a thousand tiny knots.
He tipped his head without an ounce of deference. “I know.”
She laughed softly. The wayward child of American Irish Catholic royalty, Patrick’s breeding showed in his meticulous grooming. His blond hair was mussed and gelled exactly, his skin as clean and poreless as a child’s, his nose always just a little in the air. He made Elena think of the prized cocks she used to see at the county fair, spoiled and beautifully feathered. Boston raised, Paris trained, New York tested—he was the best of the best when it came to creating the atmosphere and a dining experience for a customer. Elena trusted him implicitly.
He didn’t much care for her exuberant displays of physical affection, so instead of a big hug, she gave his arm a squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re here. Mia will arrive this weekend—it’ll be like old times.”
“I found an apartment, a two-bedroom place over the carriage house at the back of some estate. She can rent with me if she likes.”
In the blazing blue and yellow summer day, they drove the short distance to the restaurant. A knot of tourists were examining the menu. “Sorry, folks,” Elena said, getting out of the car. “It’s closed for now. Come back in November.”
Patrick paused on the sidewalk, surveying the property. She stood beside him, giving the computer in his brain time to gather elements, get a reading on the place. His face showed no reaction as they climbed the steps to the front doors. Wordlessly, he pointed out a loose board on the step, a dead pine tree branch hanging over the porch.
On the step, she paused to put on her game face. She remembered she was a tough girl from a tough town with too many brothers and mean cousins, that she’d been trained by some of