Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno 4)

“I like to watch her sleep,” Gabriel mused. He continued to drive the Volvo SUV at a snail’s pace through the streets of Cambridge. “She’s fascinating.”

“You need to keep your eyes on the road, Daddy.”

Gabriel flashed Julia a look.

“Since when do you drive so slowly?” she teased.

“Since everything I love is in this car.” Gabriel’s expression softened as he made eye contact with her through the mirror.

Julia’s heart skipped a beat.

His enthusiasm for fatherhood had outstripped her expectations. She remembered the first night they’d spent in the hospital, after Clare was born. Gabriel held Clare all through the night and would not be parted from her.

Gabriel had said once that when he was an old man, he’d remember what Julianne looked like on the night they made love for the first time. She would remember the sight of her husband holding their baby on his chest for the rest of her life.

Tears filled her eyes and threatened to overflow. She bent over the baby in order to hide her reaction.

Gabriel turned the SUV onto their street—slowly, ever so slowly.

“What the hell?” His buoyant mood came to an abrupt end, rather like a ship hitting an iceberg.

“Language,” Julia murmured. “Let’s not teach the baby naughty words.”

“If the baby were awake, she’d want to know what the hell was going on, too. Look at our lawn.” Gabriel piloted the car toward the driveway, his eyes trained on the front of their property.

Julia followed his gaze.

/> In front of their elegant two-story house was a flamboyance of plastic pink flamingos. Plastic, shocking pink flamingos. A giant wooden flamingo stood next to the front door, holding a sign:

Congratulations Gabriel and Julia! It’s a girl!

The smaller flamingos were so numerous Gabriel could barely see the blades of grass beneath them.

It was an infestation. An infestation of tacky, kitschy lawn ornaments, clearly chosen by a fiend with an extreme deficit of good taste.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Julia.

“Language.” Gabriel smirked. “I take it you weren’t expecting this?”

“Of course not. I barely checked my email this week. Did you do it?”

“You think I did this?” The Professor was indignant. Surely Julianne knew his taste did not extend to plastic abominations of lawn ornaments.

But her comment reminded him of the email he’d received while they were still at the hospital. The contents of the message were urgent. He needed to speak to Julianne about them.

She distracted him by laughing. “Maybe the flamingos are from Leslie, next door? Or your colleagues at Boston University?”

“I doubt that. Surely they would have the good sense to send champagne. Or Scotch.”

Once again, he prepared to tell Julianne about the email. But as he pulled into the driveway, the side door opened and Rachel, his sister, raced out.

She was smiling ear-to-ear and dressed casually in a white T-shirt, jeans, and sandals. Her long, straight blond hair spilled over her shoulders, and her gray eyes were alight.

“I guess we found the culprit of kitsch.” Gabriel shook his head.

Julia touched his shoulder. “It was kind of her to do this. She’s been going back and forth between here and the hospital, helping out.”

Gabriel frowned. “I know.”