Triplets for The Millionaire - K.C. Crowne Page 0,53
on break, or patients can come and catch a breather if they’re feeling overwhelmed.”
She stepped forward into the center of the space, and I would have bet all the money I was planning to invest that she had a perfect image of it in her head, one she’d likely put together a little bit at a time.
She turned to me, her breath coming out in steamy puffs. “But we’ve got a million things more important than that to fund before some little garden.”
“I think that’d be perfect,” I told her. “Medical care isn’t all about tests and charts and all that – it’s about the human touch, about caring for their spirits, and not just their bodies.”
She smiled as if I’d spoken words that she truly believed. “At first, I wasn’t sure why you were getting involved in a project like this.” She stepped toward me as she spoke. “But now I’m starting to think you actually give a shit.”
“That a surprise?” I asked with a smile.
“It is. But a nice one.”
She stopped inches from me, and we gazed into one another’s eyes for several long moments.
God, I wanted to kiss her. Before I had a chance to consider it, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She broke eye contact and slipped the phone out, checking the screen.
“Shit,” she hissed. “That’s Ryan. He needs my help in the lobby.” She looked at me. “But I’m supposed to be talking with our potential new investor.”
“Think nothing of it.” I checked my watch, seeing that it was a little after ten. “How about I come back around close and we can talk more then?”
“Sounds great. I’ll see you out.”
Our eyes lingered again, the sexual tension there as surely as the cold air wrapped around our bodies. But I broke it at the same time she did. I didn’t want to distract Lola from her important work, and I’m sure she wasn’t the type to make patients wait so she could have some fun.
We hurried back downstairs, finding the lobby full of walk-ins. Lola and Ryan began helping them out. I waved to Lola on the way out, and she did the same.
I stood outside the clinic for a time, taking in the sights around me. The area near the clinic was rough, to say the least. It reminded me of some of the harder spots in Dublin, the places Da would tell me to stay away from when I went into town.
The area called to me. I took my camera out of my bag and looked around, trying to figure out where to begin. It didn’t take long. I started with the graffiti, snaping shots of the art and tags on the fronts and sides of the brick buildings. Then I moved on to the garbage, the cracked sidewalks, the broken lights above – all the signs of urban decay. As I captured all that was around me, I tried to imagine what this area had looked like in years past when it was a thriving part of the city.
And I found myself wondering if, like Lola seemed to think, the clinic could be the key to revitalizing the area. Curious, I moved up and down the blocks methodically, taking pictures of everything that caught my attention. A few times the pedestrians caught my eye, and, like always, I made sure to ask for their permission and offer a little bit of money in exchange for a photo.
I kept at it until my legs began to ache – the usual sign that I’d let time slip away. A check of my watch revealed that it was already after three. Hours had passed, and a grumble of my belly let me know it was time to get a bite. A diner was nearby. I grabbed a table near the window, ordered a burger, and took out my notebook. I always kept something to write with nearby; no feeling worse than a good idea forgotten.
My tour through the neighborhood had given me some ideas for another photobook, something to work on between tours for the other. I jotted down ideas, only taking breaks to check out the pictures I’d taken. It was all coming together. The idea was different than the other book, and that’s what made it appealing. The photos were raw and stark, highlighting a part of Denver – a part of America – that most people didn’t see.