A Thousand Tombs by Molly Greene Read Free Book Online Page B

for half an hour.”
    “I can do that while I see what you’re working on.”
    He shrugged and led the way outside. When they passed the garden, Gen lowered the cold pack and raised her free hand in greeting and Luca returned it. He did a double-take when he saw the eye, but he didn’t comment or get up. Not much of a talker, that one. Stella rose to her feet and shook, dislodging bits of grass, then lumbered over to welcome her.
    Mack pushed open the door to the detached garage and flicked a switch on the wall. Overhead, banks of fluorescent light bars lit up the space. The walls were finished with gypsum board, then hung with spans of perforated Masonite that held individual tools hooked in position. There was space between each tool, and the outline of what belonged where was rendered in pencil behind it.
    It was the first time Gen had been in his work room. She was impressed. Everything had its place, and there was no doubt exactly where that was. Maybe she shouldn’t let him see her closet yet; he’d be appalled at her own lack of organizational skill.
    A sturdy table anchored the near half of the room, and atop it sat an unfinished metal figure. A welding torch and tools were at the ready.
    Okay, news flash.
    Mack was a metal sculptor.
    “Here I am, an open book,” Gen said, “but every time I turn around, I learn something new about you.”
    “I told you Jimmy taught me to weld,” he replied. “I started to dabble in stuff like this a while back.”
    Gen dropped the vegies on a countertop, then went to admire Mack’s work-in-progress up close. “I’d say you’re beyond dabbling. Those pieces in the house are yours?”
    “Yes.”
    “They’re beautiful, Mack. You’re really good.” She turned around and fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m betting you sell your stuff. That’s how you knew Damien Fleur, am I right? You’re deeper into the art clique than you’ve let on.”
    Damien Fleur was a well-known San Francisco painter. She and Mack had run into one another at a gallery show he’d held last June. Mack was with his previous girlfriend at the time, and the sight of them together definitely sparked the green-eyed monster in Gen.
    “It never came up, Genny.”
    Sure it did. Mack just wasn’t one to toot his own horn. “So tell me now,” she said.
    “I sell a few pieces. I like doing the work, and it helps put a little money aside.” He handed her the ice pack and pointed at her mug.
    That was all she was going to get out of him for now.
    Gen pressed the bag to her face, then moved away to amble around the room. The garage was composed of two bays. The first was his metal-working studio. The second, where she stood now, housed a car that was cloaked in a canvas cover. Only the wheels were visible.
    Mack walked up behind her. “Jimmy’s favorite thing in the world.”
    “What is it?”
    He flipped the material back to reveal the hood of a shiny, cherry-red sedan. “1969 Camaro.” His voice was husky, almost reverent. He brushed an invisible fleck of dust from the windshield, then cut his eyes to her. “We’ll take it out for a drive sometime, if you want.”
    She nodded. “I’d love that.”
    He flicked the cover in place and walked away, leaving Gen to wonder what else he hadn’t shared with her yet. Like much of his past, Mack kept the things he cared about shrouded from view.
     
    * * *
     
    Two hours later Mack fired up his big-boy grill, and Luca took that as a sign to quit. He rose from the last patch of weeds in the far corner of the garden and headed for the shower.
    Gen left the window and went out onto the wide back porch and ran her fingers down Mack’s arm. “What’s your plan?”
    “Rib-eyes and grilled zucchini and corn on the cob.”
    “Want me to slice the squash?”
    “Sure. How’s the eye?”
    “It smarts.”
    He tried not to laugh. “I bet it does.”
    “Like I said earlier, a good belt of whiskey would help, but I’ll settle for a glass of