Page 10 of Trusting Mr. Sterling
“Good morning.”
“Gabriel.”
“May I sit?”
“I have a few minutes.”
He sat.
It should’ve been awkward, and it was, briefly. Tessa had decided on the long drive home from Martha’s Vineyard that she was done being awkward about Gabriel Sterling. She had years of practice at commanding a room. She picked up her coffee, took a deliberate sip, and set it down exactly where it had been—a small performance of calm she could almost believe.
“What brings you to Park Slope?” she asked.
“Knox bought an apartment two blocks east. He’s getting the kitchen redone—what he insists on calling a small project—and asked me to look in on the contractor before my eight-thirty.”
“I’ve worked in a lot of kitchens. A remodel is never a small project.”
Gabriel’s mouth curved. “Everything is minor in Knox’s mind.”
“Then he’s in for a lifetime of surprises.”
“I know.”
She let herself laugh, and the laugh was easier than she expected. She’d forgotten how easy it was to laugh with him.
“How’s your mother?” she asked.
“Still terrorizing the Upper East Side. Yours?”
“Retired. She’s living in South Jersey. She volunteers at the library and hands me books I’m supposed to have time to read.”
“Do you?”
“No. But I tell her I do.”
He smiled, and it reached his eyes.
“What about you?” she asked. “Where are you, Gabriel? Not what do you do. I read the website. Where are you in your life?”
The pause was familiar. He had always taken her questions like she’d asked him for something more than the words.
“I work too much. I bought a place in Tribeca three years ago that I haven’t finished decorating because I don’t know whatI want it to look like. I see Knox and Ronan and not many other people. My mother thinks I should marry a Lawrence. I disagree.”
“A Lawrence.”
“There are about six of them. They’re all interchangeable.”
“Catalogue brides.”
“More or less.”
She laughed again. Easier this time.
“Your turn,” he said.
“I built it. I run it. I’m very good at it. I bought my parents a house in South Jersey three years ago. I keep granola bars in my bag because old habits die hard. I have a friend named Lucy who supplies my desserts and tells me when I’m being ridiculous. I haven’t been on a real vacation in four years. I’d like to go to Paris.”
“Paris? “
