3
Turquoise
Strangely — maybe because I’d been fairly caught using Connor’s laptop — I had no desire to do any more snooping. Instead, I wandered downstairs, found a glass in one of the cupboards, and filled it up with water through the refrigerator door. He seemed to prefer bottled water, but I’d always drunk water like this when I was at Sydney’s house and didn’t see the harm.
A clock of burnished copper on one wall told me it was now almost two-thirty. I wondered how long the transaction at the gallery was going to take. As long as it took, I supposed. Since I’d just purchased several large original pieces myself, I knew Connor wasn’t talking about a few hundred dollars here.
I knew I should just sit down on the couch and turn on the TV, and try to disengage my brain for a while. Th
