Free Within Reach by Sarah Mayberry Page A

she’d had in ages.
    “I wouldn’t have even brought it up if I didn’t think it could work.”
    He contemplated the studio again. “I’ll need a couple of weeks to get it ready for you.”
    “Oh, good decision, Mr. Robinson. Excellent decision.” She clapped her hands together, delighted.
    Finally Michael smiled.

CHAPTER FIVE
    A NGIE UNPACKED THE LAST of her sanding disks onto the workbench, setting them in a neat row between the
polishing mops and drill bits. Satisfied everything was in its rightful place,
she turned to survey her new studio.
    In the three weeks since they’d struck the deal, the walls had
been painted a crisp, warm white, and Michael had installed a bank of lighting
overhead. Her equipment had been moved in and set up over the past two days and
her gaze slid over familiar things made strange by the unfamiliar setting.
    For the first time she admitted that it would take a while to
get used to the new space. Not only because it was all so nice, but also because it had been intended to be Billie’s studio,
her secret hidey-hole where she could be creative. Gripped with a momentary
sadness, Angie moved to the window, looking out to the green of the
backyard.
    That was something else she’d have to get used to—instead of
the teeming city and the hum of traffic and the clang of trams passing, she had
grass and trees and could hear nothing but silence and the occasional dog
barking or bird calling.
    All in all, it was a huge shift—and not just for her, either.
Michael’s car had been gone when she arrived this morning, even though it was a
Thursday which meant he should be working from home. She’d guessed he was
dropping Eva at school and let herself into first the house, then studio. It had
felt strange making free with his home, but one of the things they had discussed
while hammering out the details of the arrangement was the fact that she needed
access to the kitchen and bathroom. At the time, Michael had seemed supremely
comfortable with the notion of having his home invaded, but Angie couldn’t help
wondering how the reality would feel for him. She wasn’t sure how she would cope
with having a stranger encroach on her personal space—but then maybe she was
more of hermit crab than Michael. He’d lived with Billie, after all, and had two
small people who invaded his personal space every chance they got.
    Satisfied she was as set up as she was ever going to be, Angie
crossed to her safe and pulled out the job bag for Dr. Mathews. A successful
dermatologist, he was planning to propose to his live-in girlfriend and wanted
the engagement ring to be both personal and spectacular. He’d selected a
stunning princess-cut Australian sapphire in an unusual green-gold hue to be the
centerpiece of the design—now Angie had to decide what, exactly, that design
would be.
    She sat at her table, pencil in hand. After contemplating the
diamond, she started to sketch. An hour later, she eased the crick in her neck,
stood and arched her back. She grabbed a mug from the sideboard and headed into
the house to make coffee and get a little perspective.
    She was spooning grounds into the French press, lost in
thought, when a deep voice sounded behind her.
    “How’s it going?”
    She whirled to face Michael. “Bloody hell! You scared the
bejesus out of me.”
    His mouth quirked at the corner and she guessed she’d amused
him. “Sorry. No shoes.”
    She saw that his feet were bare yet again. True to form, he was
also wearing faded denim, but instead of his usual sweatshirt he had on a
wrinkled white shirt.
    “What is it with you and the no-shoes thing?”
    “Don’t know. I’ve never really liked them, ever since I was a
kid.”
    “Heathen.” She lifted her mug. “Want one?”
    “Sure. Why not? It’s better than staring at the Watsons’ beach
house for another hour.”
    “Problems?”
    “Just the usual. They have about ten different ideas and styles
they want incorporated into one building, yet