Rushing Waters Read Online Free Page B

Sandy with awe over how devastating it had been. “They call it the Perfect Storm, you know, like the movie.”
    “It was pretty awful,” Ellen confirmed. “My mother’s building was very badly damaged. I wanted her to move uptown after that. But she wouldn’t. She loves living downtown.”
    “It sounds dangerous to me,” Charles said, watching the wind whip the trees as they sped along toward the city, but the rain had let up, and as they got into Manhattan, the wind didn’t seem as fierce. Charles was just grateful to be back on terra firma. And they spoke of more innocuous things for the rest of the ride. Ellen tried to pay for half the trip when they got to her mother’s building in Tribeca, and Charles wouldn’t let her.
    “Don’t be ridiculous—you’ll need the money for therapy for your arm,” he said, and she laughed.
    “My arm is fine. And you’re very kind to let me ride with you. I hope you have a wonderful time with your girls,” she said warmly.
    “And you with your mother,” he said with a smile, and seemed like a normal person, and not the basket case he had been on the plane, when he was convinced they were going to crash. “And I hope you’re right and there won’t be a proper hurricane while we’re here.” The driver got out, took Ellen’s bag out of the trunk, and handed it to the doorman, who smiled when he recognized her and hurried inside with the bag.
    “Thank you again,” Ellen called out to Charles as she smiled and waved at him from the sidewalk. The driver started the cab again and drove off, as Charles waved back at her. He was grateful to have been sitting next to her on the plane and was sure he would have lost his mind without her.
    All he could think of now was seeing Lydia and Chloe. He turned his cell phone on as soon as he thought of it, and called their mother’s number, but all he got was her voicemail. He left her a message to say he was in New York, at the Soho Grand, and hoped she’d call him back so he could see the girls over the weekend. And as he headed to his hotel, Ellen used her keys and let herself into her mother’s apartment. Grace called a few minutes later and promised to be home soon. Ellen went to unpack, and an hour later her mother walked into the apartment and put her arms around her with delight when she saw her. Grace wasn’t as tall as Ellen, but she was a striking woman, with red hair and green eyes, and features very much like her daughter’s. She looked distinguished and aristocratic, but in no way snobbish. She was wearing black slacks and a black sweater with her long hair in a braid down her back, which she frequently wore when she was working. And a little white Maltese had come in with her and was barking frantically at their feet as mother and daughter embraced and smiled happily at each other. It was obvious that Grace was thrilled to see her.
    “Take it easy, Blanche, it’s only Ellen.” The little ball of white fur was dancing around in circles, showing off for the familiar visitor. The dog was the love of her mother’s life and her constant companion. Blanche even went to the office with her, and Grace took pride in saying she had become a weird old lady with a little white dog, and didn’t seem to mind the image. Grace Madison was above all herself and made no apology for it.
    Ellen looked around the familiar apartment as they sat down in the living room on the enormous, oversized white wool couch she’d gotten for her mother. There were two large white hand-woven rugs on the floor, striking modern furniture mixed in with a few mid-twentieth-century pieces, and colorful contemporary paintings. Grace had designed the apartment herself, on two levels, and it felt more like a house than an apartment. And despite the modern feel to it, it was warm and inviting. She lit a fire in the glass fireplace, and the coffee table was a single block of glass that she had had made in Paris. It was beautiful, as was the rest of the