The Last Night in London by Karen White (reading list .TXT) 📕

taking George’s lead in his hand. “I’m surprised all right. Although I’m left to wonder why you didn’t have her come while I was on holiday. The flat will be rather crowded, don’t you think?”

“Don’t be silly, Colin. There’s plenty of room. And when I mentioned the journalist staying here, you didn’t have any objections.”

His eyes touched on me briefly. “Yes, well, that’s because I wasn’t fully informed. I’m glad I decided to work from home this morning, so I’m spared the shock of returning home in the evening after a long day and seeing Madison in my flat.” He held his hand out toward me as if he wanted me to shake it, then said, “May I?”

I looked at him with confusion until Arabella tugged my suitcase from my grasp and handed it to Colin. “He’d never hear the end of it if his mother or Aunt Precious ever heard that he allowed you to carry your own suitcase,” she said.

Before I could protest, Colin had opened one of the outer doors and was waiting for us to walk past him into the lobby.

Tall ceilings, a large brass chandelier, and a nonfunctioning dark wood-framed fireplace greeted us in the foyer. An old-fashioned elevator—or “lift,” I corrected myself; when in Rome and all that—faced us, a small rectangular window in the outer door showing the empty shaft behind.

Colin pressed the “call” button, and we waited for several minutes, listening to the moans and groans of the ancient equipment. When the lift finally arrived, he opened the door, then slid open a black metal accordion gate and motioned for Arabella and me to step inside the wood-paneled space. A leather bench was attached to the back wall. As the elevator shuddered to life, I hoped the bench wasn’t there for napping to pass the time while we were laboriously lifted to the higher floors. We were moving like snails slugging through molasses in winter.

“Why didn’t we take the steps?” I asked, recalling the carpeted stairs in the lobby, one flight on the left of the elevator heading up, the one on the right heading down.

Colin shoved his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t think Americans liked to physically exert themselves, so I assumed you’d rather take the lift.”

“You know what happens when people assume, right?”

“Stop it, you two,” Arabella said, stepping between us. “I do not enjoy playing nanny, so I’d appreciate it if you would both behave like adults.”

The lift dinged, although we could see between the gate slats that we weren’t quite there. We were all silent as we listened to the ancient lift squeak and gasp like an old man. Somehow it managed to grind to a halt on the third floor.

“Lovely,” Arabella said, waiting as Colin opened the door into the middle of a short hallway with a black-and-white-checkered floor. Two massive dark wood doors with leaded glass transom windows dominated each end of the hallway, and Arabella proceeded left to the door with the number sixty-four marked in gold in the center. “Remember,” she said, turning to look at Colin and me. “Behave.” She pressed the buzzer. “To give them fair warning,” she said as she dropped her hand.

The sound of a dog barking from inside was quickly followed by footsteps approaching. Then the door was pulled open, and we were greeted by an attractive middle-aged brunette with tortoiseshell glasses and a bright white-toothed smile.

A small, fluffy gray-and-white dog with antennae-like ears and of questionable parentage darted from around her legs and began sniffing our feet in earnest as George pulled on his lead with happy yips.

“Oscar,” the woman chided, “they didn’t bring you food.”

With an almost audible sigh, the little dog slumped and sat at the woman’s feet.

“Laura,” Colin said affably. “And Oscar, of course.” He squatted down and grinned with a warmth I hadn’t yet seen directed at me. The little dog jumped into his arms as if they were old friends. They looked at each other with mutual admiration, and I had to admit that witnessing it improved my opinion of Colin by a frog’s hair.

“Laura, I’d like to introduce you to Madison Warner, the journalist I told you about,” Arabella said, moving forward with familiarity to greet Laura. “She’s here to interview Precious.”

Laura nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve got the guest room all ready. Precious is in a bit of a grumpy mood today, but I know she’s looking forward to meeting you.”

Arabella waved her hand. “Oh, no worries. Maddie will get her feeling better in no time. Everyone loves Maddie.”

I chose that moment to pet Oscar, who was gazing lovingly up at Colin and licking his chin. The dog jerked his head in my direction and growled.

“Don’t take it personally,” Laura said. “Oscar loves Colin. He probably thinks you’re trying to separate them.” She held out her hand to me. “I’m Laura Allen, Miss Dubose’s nurse, although she prefers to call me her companion, since the word ‘nurse’ makes her feel old.”

She smiled warmly and I imagined if I had a need for friends, I’d like her to be one. I shook her outstretched hand. “Maddie Warner,” I said. “You’re an American?”

“I’m afraid so. We seem to be everywhere. I came over for what I thought would be a short-term assignment taking care of Colin’s grandmother Sophia during her last few years. When she passed, Penelope asked if I’d stay on to look after Miss Dubose. Although, as I’m sure you’ll discover, she doesn’t need or want a lot of looking after, even with her recent hospital stay and declining health. So don’t ask her how she’s feeling.”

“Got it.” I stifled a yawn with the back of my hand.

“You must be exhausted,” Laura said, taking my elbow and leading me inside. “I was just about to bring Miss Dubose her tea. Let me get something for you, too.”

We moved inside to a large foyer dominated by a mahogany fireplace that no longer appeared to be functional. The towering