Within Reach

He pushed himself off the bed and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He needed to make some changes, to do something to shift things. He thought about Angie’s suggestion—that he go back to work early—and forced himself to really consider it as an option, even though his first response had been to reject it, as he’d rejected everything else she’d said.

He’d taken the year off because he’d wanted the kids to have some kind of continuity of care after Billie’s death. She’d been a full-time mom and therefore their primary caregiver, and neither she nor Michael had family who’d been able to step in and help thanks to the tyranny of distance—Billie’s family were all in England, his own in Perth, a thousand miles and a time zone away. At the time, twelve months had felt woefully inadequate to patch over the gaping hole left by Billie’s absence, but the truth was that the kids had been far more resilient than he’d ever imagined.

Not that they weren’t affected by their mother’s loss—they were, in hundreds of small ways, all the time—but they were far better at living in the now than he was.

He’d needed the time-out more than they had. He’d been

so shattered in those early days, like a shell-shocked soldier, and there had been something undeniably comforting and numbing about the routine of their very limited domestic life—it had become its own form of suspended animation, a holding pattern that they had existed in to get by.

But getting by wasn’t enough, not when he was letting his kids down. They deserved better from him. He needed to move beyond merely surviving.

As impossible as that seemed from where he sat right now.

He looked himself in the eye in the mirror, taking in his shaggy hair and gaunt features and bristly cheeks.

Time did not stand still, and neither could he. Tomorrow, he’d call his partners in the firm and talk to them about returning early. Then he’d start setting his house to rights, both figuratively and literally.

The thought alone was enough to make him feel heavy and overwhelmed.

Damn you, Angie. Why couldn’t you have left me alone?

He already knew the answer—because she was a friend, and because she cared enough to make the tough call, even when she knew her point of view probably wouldn’t be appreciated.

He needed to add apologizing to her to his list of things to do tomorrow.

He finished up then shed his clothes and climbed into bed. Turning onto his side, he closed his eyes. As always as he drifted toward sleep, there was a small, forgetful moment where he slid his hand over to touch Billie’s back, instinctively seeking reassurance as he hovered on the brink.

As always, he found nothing but cold sheets.

A few minutes after that, he fell asleep.

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEXT MORNING FOUND Angie wrestling with the ancient lock on the door to her studio. She pulled the key out, then slid it back in and jiggled it around. After a few tense seconds she felt the latch give and rolled her eyes.

Typical. Like everything else in the Stradbroke building, the mechanism worked just enough to make it difficult to make a case to the landlord to replace it. She locked the door behind her and dropped her bag on the small table and chairs she kept for client meetings, then crossed to the window to let in some fresh air. Next, she pulled on the well-worn leather apron she wore to protect her clothes and hunkered down in front of her safe to open it. Inside were the flat strips of gold, silver and other metals that she used to create the alloys for her pieces, as well as a box containing dozens of small boxes, each of which boasted a selection of diamonds and other gems. She preferred to work with white, champagne and pink diamonds, but she had a small collection of rubies and emeralds and sapphires, as well. This morning she ignored the stones and pulled the gold and silver from the safe. Both the rings for the Merton commission—her first priority this week—were to be made from 18-karat white gold. She checked the design brief she’d created in consultation with Judy and John and did some math to calculate how much she’d need of both palladium and gold to accommodate their ring sizes—an L and S respectively—then turned toward the scales to measure.

Perhaps inevitably, her thoughts turned to Michael and the kids as she worked.

She’d really pissed him off last night with her unsolicited advice.

It was so hard to know what to do. Michael may have been married to Billie for six years, and Angie may have seen him once a week on average during that time, but their friendship had always been grounded in their mutual connection with Billie. Not that Angie didn’t like him in his own right—she did, a lot—but in her mind he was Billie’s husband first and foremost, and then Michael. Just as she suspected she was Billie’s friend first to him, and then herself.

Although maybe that assessment wasn’t strictly true anymore. It had been an intense ten months, after all.

The phone rang, cutting through her thoughts. She leaned to grab the handset.

“Angela speaking.”

“Angie, it’s Michael.”

“Oh. Hi.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite your head off again. I rang to apologize for last night.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do. I was an ass, and I’m sorry.”

One of the things she’d always liked about Michael was that he didn’t beat around the bush. He was a man of few words, but those he did speak were always worth hearing.

“Apology accepted. Even if it is unnecessary.”

“I thought about what you said, and I spoke to my partners today. They’re keen for me to come back whenever I’m ready.”

“Hey, that’s great. Are you going to take them up on it?”

“I don’t know. I need to sort out child care. But you were right. Sitting around here on my own all day isn’t helping anything.”

She pictured the darkened kitchen and living room and his shaggy hair and too-thin frame.

“It’s hard to get into things again. But life goes on whether we want it to or not. Wrong as it seems.” She hated how trite she sounded.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you thought about going back part-time to start with? Maybe three days a week, or something like that? That way both you and the kids would have a chance to get used to you not being around as much.”

“Part-time. I hadn’t thought of that. But there’s no reason why I couldn’t do it, even if it meant I worked from home on the other days.”

“Let’s face it, you’re probably going to do that anyway,” she said drily.

“True. And that would mean I’d only have to find day care for Charlie three days. And work out something for Eva after school.”

She moved to the window, stepping into a shaft of sunlight and letting it warm her skin.

“What about a nanny? I have no idea how much they are, but my friend Gail uses one. She says it’s a godsend.”

“Yeah? I guess it would be worth investigating. I keep hearing that the day-care places around here have waiting lists as long as my arm.”

“I’ll ask where she got hers and text you.”

“Thanks, Angie. I appreciate it.”

There was a humble sincerity to his tone that made her throat tight.

“How would you feel about me coming over on Sunday and taking Eva shopping for her friend’s present?”