Page 94 of Code Name: Michelangelo

I held up my hand. “Don’t apologize. And, by the way, I took the liberty of picking up a few things, but I wasn’t sure what size diapers Linnea was in.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You are such a good friend, Penelope. As you’ve probably guessed, I wasn’t able to have many in my life.”

I hadn’t asked before, but since Tara thought someone was checking out the gallery, I felt like I needed to. “What about her daddy?”

I apologized when she covered her face with her hands and cried.

“He’s my best friend. I miss him so.”

Her words broke my heart. “I hope the two of you can find your way back to each other.”

“I do too.”

“After I help you get settled, I’ll come back and move your car. It’ll be in a garage, so anyone looking for it won’t find it,” I said on the ferry from Patchogue to Fire Island.

“Forgive me for asking, and you don’t have to answer this, but is everything okay with Brand? You haven’t mentioned him.”

I sighed. “He’s okay. Shortly after you left, he was called out of the country for work. We aren’t able to talk very often. In fact, when we do, we use the same app you do.”

“I spent every summer here, on the island, in a house that was built by my great-grandparents,” I said thirty minutes later when I pulled up to the cottage in one of the golf carts that always sat by the ferry landing. “It belongs to me now, so you don’t have to worry about anyone showing up unexpectedly.”

“The Butterfly Cottage?” she said, motioning to the sign.

“Every year, usually around mid-September, tens of thousands of monarch butterflies descend on Fire Island. They’re actually migrating from Canada to a mountaintop near Mexico City, so they aren’t here long. I try to visit every year to see it. I’m so afraid, with everything I hear about climate change, they’ll stop coming.” My heart hurt talking about it since it reminded me of Brand.

“I’d hardly call this a cottage,” DeDe said, taking in the property surrounding the two living spaces that were separated by a pool.

I chuckled. “Me either, but it’s what my grandmother used to call it. Compared to the size of the place her mom and dad owned in the city, I suppose they would’ve considered it small.”

Her eyes were wide when she took in the view of the ocean. “It seems so relaxing.”

“It is, especially at this time of year when no one is here. It’s very different starting from the Fourth of July through Labor Day.” I motioned for her to follow me. “The main bedrooms are this way.” I stopped at a closed door. “This is the nursery. I was the last to sleep here,” I told her, pushing the door open and walking over to the crib. “I hope it meets current baby-safety standards.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “It looks perfect.”

I looked inside the closet, stunned to see my old baby clothes folded on the built-in shelves. “I had no idea all this stuff was still here. Feel free to use any that fit. I mean, if you want to.”

DeDe picked up a folded dress and held it in front of Linnea, who reached for it. “I’m afraid she’ll ruin your things.”

“Please don’t worry about it. I want her to have them.” I smiled and stepped closer to the baby. “They’re yours now, sweet pea.”

Once again, DeDe’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re our guardian angel, aren’t you?”

“What I am is your friend and this little one’s fairy godmother.”

I stayed another hour and, after making sure DeDe and Linnea wouldn’t need anything else right away, decided to head straight to the airport from Patchogue rather than returning to the town house.

Going home would just make me miss Brand more, and if Tara was in California, that would mean I was the only member of the tribe here, on the East Coast. Getting out there too would at least keep my mind off him for a little while.

28

MICHELANGELO

Typhon made arrangements to have the paintings that had been acquired for the mission delivered to his villa in Tropea. Tomorrow, when I returned to the Sicilians’ compound, I’d have seventeen new masterpieces to paint. No doubt, they’d expect all to be completed by the end of the week—a physical impossibility.

The plan we’d put in place was for me to say I could paint no more than three, and thus, they’d move the artwork to another location, where the forger or forgers who’d created the pieces Penelope purchased could pick up my slack. I doubted very much that they’d put the two or more of us in a room together.

Chips that were too small to be seen by the naked eye and unable to be detected by any device other than the one recently developed in the States and given to MI6, were affixed to the originals so we could track them.

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