The Tesla Legacy by Rebecca Cantrell Read Free Book Online Page B

nail into a giant shoe to fix it. If only it would be so easy to fix Celeste.
    “What the hell did you say to her?” That wasn’t Celeste. It was her brother, Leandro. Joe and Leandro had been friends for years, but he’d become distant since Joe moved into the family house underneath Grand Central, taking possession of the place Leandro used for annual parties.
    “Is Celeste all right?” Joe asked. She gasped out something in the background. He felt guilty for making Celeste waste her breath on him. She had so little to spare. Doctors still had no idea if her ALS would kill her in a matter of months, or if she might linger for years, like Stephen Hawking. They did know that she would never get better.
    “It’ll take her a minute to catch her breath,” Leandro said. “You shouldn’t make her laugh like that. It’s not good for her.”
    Laughter, not the best medicine. “It wasn’t a laugh line.”
    “Two laugh lines: not a Tesla and pigeon keeper,” Leandro chuckled. “Just when you think the mighty can’t fall any further.”
    Joe wasn’t sure how to take that, but any way he looked at it, it counted as an insult.
    Celeste came back on. “Sorry, darling, that was too funny.”
    “Don’t go letting the tragedy of my life’s circumstances cause you to work yourself into a state.”
    “Now you’re angry.” She cleared her throat. “But your ancestry is irrelevant. No less an august paper than The New York Times called you ‘the reclusive genius who revolutionized law enforcement.’ You are who you are and whether your great-great-whatever-uncle was a famous inventor or not, you’ve left your legacy.”
    “That makes it sound like I’m already dead.”
    “Aren’t we all?” She coughed again.
    “I have a surprise for you,” Joe said.
    “Tell me.”
    “Can you look out your window?” He’d already written the code to hack the smart lighting fixtures installed in the office building across from her apartment. The security on them was practically nonexistent.
    Leandro came on the line. “I’m moving her. It’s not easy, so this better be damn good.”
    “I’m at the window,” Celeste said.
    Joe pressed a button on his phone. It should run the code he’d set up a week ago.
    “Oh.” Celeste sounded surprised. “A heart.”
    He’d turned off every light on her side of the building, then turned on only the ones that would form a heart. He’d been saving it for some night, but Celeste often went to bed before the sun went down these days.
    “That’s lovely.” He heard the smile in her voice. “A little sappy.”
    “I thought you’d say that.” He pressed another button to change to a different set of lights.
    Celeste laughed again and then went into another coughing fit.
    Was it too much? He didn’t want her to hurt herself.
    Leandro’s voice again, and he was laughing, too. “Damn fine work, Joe. You showed my sister a heart, then flipped her off.”
    It had worked. Joe tapped another key to restore the building to its original lighting. “She knows what I mean.”
    “Thanks, dude.” For the first time in a long time, it sounded like Leandro meant it, but before Joe could say anything else, he hung up.
    Edison leaned against his leg and thumped his tail once (cyan). The dog knew he was upset, but how could he not be when he thought about Celeste? She was an incredible, vibrant woman—tough, reckless, and phenomenally talented. Although she’d never needed to work a day in her life, she’d struggled to become an admired artist. Painting was one of the first things the disease had taken from her.
    Just as his condition took her from him. They’d dated years before, but he had not been exciting enough for her, and she’d moved on. Now that they both were crippled, they’d become closer than ever, at least emotionally. But physically they would never meet again—she couldn’t leave her penthouse apartment, and he couldn’t get to it. He’d checked all the city plans,