Free Ghostheart by R.J. Ellory Page B

welcome anytime.
    And so, later – Saturday closing itself up around the night-people that haunted the streets of New York, the theatergoers, the clubbers, the drinkers, the hookers – she watched from the same window as the night before, and yet her thoughts were still. For once they were still. Sullivan was out there somewhere, out among the six degrees of separation beyond her window, and she wished he were home. It was a moment to share. She wished her father were there. Her mother had always been the one with which to share such things, but now, after Forrester’s visit, with her memories stirred, she was acutely aware of how absent he was. Her mother had been there for so much longer. They had talked and laughed and cried together. She possessed a suitcase of memories of her mother, but of her father she possessed nothing. That, of all things, was the thing that hurt most. She did not think of him long, for to do so was to feel once again the irresolute sense of loss that accompanied such thoughts. He was gone, gone for ever, and somehow, some way, she had to come to terms with that.
    And then Annie slept, neither fitful nor restless nor agitated, and when she woke it was Sunday, and in amongst her feelings was a quiet sense of reassurance, as if the world had venturedto return a little of that which she had lost: faith in basic human nature, perhaps, something such as a belief that somewhere out there things made sense, and she would no longer be the only one to miss the point.

FIVE
    Sunday morning Annie did not wish to be alone. Such a desire was new, a little strange, and yet she did not resist it as she would ordinarily have done. She crossed the hall and told Jack Sullivan to come have breakfast with her, and he – ever the one to take a free meal when it was offered – came willingly.
    She made eggs and hash browns and bacon, fried some mushrooms and brewed fresh coffee. She had Sullivan squeeze a dozen oranges and set the jug in the freezer to chill while she cooked, and then they sat together in silence and ate well.
    ‘Something has changed,’ Sullivan ventured as they sat drinking coffee. He frowned, tilted his head to the right. ‘You didn’t go out and get laid, did you Annie?’
    She smiled, laughed. ‘No Jack, I didn’t go out and get laid.’
    ‘So you stayed home and did it, right?’
    She shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t stay home.’
    ‘So tell me.’ He pushed his plate to one side, rested his elbows on the table and set his chin on his steepled fingers. He looked down his nose at her. ‘Tell Doctor Sullivan my dear … tell me your secret.’
    Annie paused, silent for a moment. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she began, then waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. ‘Not too hard, don’t worry,’ she added. ‘Just thinking about what I want I s’pose.’
    ‘What you want?’ Sullivan asked. ‘You have the store, you have this apartment, and you have me … what the hell else could a beautiful single thirty-year-old New Yorker want?’
    ‘A relationship?’
    Sullivan closed his eyes and exhaled. ‘Oh shit,’ he said quietly.
    Annie laughed. ‘Oh shit. That’s what you have to say? Christ Jack, you didn’t expect me to stay single for the rest of my life did you?’
    ‘Hell no Annie, I was hoping you’d fall head over heels for me.’
    Annie reached out and closed her hand over Jack’s. ‘You, you old warhorse … you will always be the one.’
    Sullivan opened his eyes and smiled at her. ‘So tell me his name.’
    ‘What makes you think there’s a someone?’
    ‘His name,’ Sullivan repeated.
    Annie looked away towards the window. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Nothing happened, nothing at all.’
    ‘He’s married?’
    Annie shook her head. ‘No … well, at least I don’t think he’s married.’
    ‘So what’s his name?’
    ‘Quinn … David Quinn.’
    ‘And you met him where?’
    ‘He came to the store on Friday,’ Annie replied.
    ‘And he bought a book