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gently, her own breath ragged with concern. Grannie was so frail and so beautiful. Alex felt the prickle of tears as Grannie’s eyes slowly opened.
    “My ankle,” she whispered. “I think it’s broken….”
    “Don’t move,” breathed Alex. “Helen’s here. She’s calling for help.”
    “That’s nice,” murmured Grannie. Her eyelids dropped and closed. Alex signalled Helen over her shoulder. “How long?”
    “Five minutes.” The older woman held a small throw which she gingerly laid over her employer, carefully avoiding her twisted foot. “How’s her pulse?”
    Placing her fingers on the underside of her grandmother’s wrist, Alex counted out the beats. “Steady. And her breathing seems normal as well.” She smiled tentatively up at Helen. “Takes a lot to unnerve my Grannie.”
    In the meantime, arrangements had to be made. “Helen,” Alex asked, “could you alert the front desk, please. We need to let Cyril know what’s going on before word gets out. And Grannie’s friend…,” Alex frowned, forcing herself to concentrate, not to be distracted by the thin, cold fingers clutching her own. “Mrs. Taylor. Have Cyril arrange a car for her if she still wants to go on to the luncheon.”
    The woman waited, phone-in-hand. “I think,” Alex went on, “he should merely say that Grannie is a bit under the weather.”
    A soft sigh drew Alex’s attention. She looked down to see her grandmother watching her. “You handled that very well. Claudia Taylor can be a terrible gossip.”
    Alex felt her throat well up. “Honestly, Grannie. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.”
    “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be fine. Just tripped on the rug…” her voice trailed away.
    Alex looked up to see Helen heading for the door. The ambulance must have arrived. There was a flurry of movement and then two men entered with a stretcher and equipment.
    “The paramedics are here,” Alex whispered, giving her Grannie’s hand a light squeeze. Then she got to her feet and stepped back to give them room.
    She felt helpless, standing to one side as the paramedics spoke to her grandmother gently and checked her vital signs. Alex provided whatever information they asked for, but there was nothing she could really do other than accompany her grandmother to the hospital. They rode down in the large service elevator and went out the back way to avoid staring eyes. The staff could be relied upon to make sure everything at The Sadler ran smoothly in their absence.
    Grannie might be as tough as nails, but this was a harsh reminder, Alex realized, of just how old and frail her grandmother really was.
     
    This was the last flat he would look at that afternoon, Marc decided as he entered the white-stuccoed townhouse and bounded up the stairs. Thea Gosnell, his estate agent, trotted in his wake.
    It wasn’t her fault that her voice was beginning to grate; she was just doing her job, trying to remain chipper in spite of her client’s reluctance to join in the conversation. But after six viewings – Marc was done.
    Or, so he thought until he stepped into the flat’s impressive foyer.
    “…as you can see,” Thea was saying, “this second-floor flat offers a large reception room, dining room and gourmet kitchen, as well as three bedrooms. Its period features are truly exquisite...of particular note,” she droned on, “are the Georgian fireplaces.”
    Actually, thought Marc, tuning out the agent’s patter as his gaze roamed about the empty rooms, Thea was right. This flat did have everything he wanted, hardwood floors, high ceilings and enough space that he could use one of the bedrooms as his office. But what he liked most of all was that it gave him a blank canvas.
    Thea had gone quiet.
    Marc spun round. She was standing right behind him. “I like it,” he said.
    Thea glowed. She had purposely saved the best property for last, Marc realized, knowing it was the jewel in her current crop of listings and the one he was most likely