This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel (26 page)

“Hi, Alec.”

“Hello, Claire.” Alec brushed against her as he moved to open his mailbox. “Why is it that there are always only bills in the mail?” He shrugged, holding up a pile of bills.

“I guess it figures, since hardly anyone writes letters anymore.”

“You have a point there. Although, I must say that it is a big loss…”

“Why do you say that?” Claire could not keep the surprise off her face. The last thing she expected was to hear the slick tango dancer lament about the absence of letters.

“Years ago lovers would send each other letters. Now that’s something that makes checking your mailbox worthwhile.”

Claire blushed. This conversation was heading into the wrong direction, fast.
             
“Well, I’ve got to get going.”

“Have a good night.”

As she walked down the hall, Claire could feel Alec’s glance upon her, relieved that he did not get into the elevator with her.

Listening to the sound of Claire’s heels clicking irately on the tiled floor, Alec wondered what had possessed him to speak about love letters. It seemed that every time he ran into his downstairs neighbor, the most ridiculous thoughts popped into his head. Well, it was time to pull his head out of the clouds and attend to the pressing matters at hand – like shopping for groceries, which had been his intention before he spotted Claire in the mailroom.

Alec was about to head out the door when he noticed that Claire had left a thick, padded envelope behind. Quickly, he picked up the folder and dashed into the hallway, hoping to catch his neighbor before she boarded the elevator. The next thing he felt was his leather-soled shoes sliding against the slippery lobby floor, and in an uncharacteristically graceless flop, Alec found himself on the floor, the contents of Claire’s folder spilling all over him. Carefully, Alec scooped the papers from the floor, trying to arrange them in the original order, but the task proved to be impossible. The letters had fallen out of sequence, and there was no way of rearranging them in the right
order without reading the contents. Alec was about to put the papers back as best as he could when one of the letters caught his eye:
My Dearest Sophie
…

His eyes still glued to the letter, Alec gathered the contents of the folder and called the elevator. His grocery shopping would have to wait.

Chapter 25

Claire shut the door of her apartment and leaned against the wall. What was it about her upstairs neighbor that sent shivers down her spine every time she met him? Perhaps it was the dark brown of his eyes or his jet-black hair that fell across his forehead at all kinds of angles, or maybe it was his deep baritone or his broad, muscular torso or his cinched waist… It could have been any of these attributes, but the fact of the matter remained: Claire’s upstairs neighbor was too hot for his own good, or to be more precise, too hot for Claire’s good.

It might have been her imagination, but Claire could have sworn that every time she ran into Alec, she felt palpable chemistry. The way his eyes lingered upon her, the way he never failed to strike up a conversation whenever their paths crossed… She had denied the connection between them at first, but it was plainly obvious that Alec was flirting with her. If previously she had forced herself to ignore him on account of David, now there was nothing to prevent her from exploring this opportunity. Nothing but the fact that Alec was a womanizer and a player. Of course, Claire did not have any proof to substantiate her opinion of her neighbor, but his mere occupation was all the evidence she needed. Ballroom dancing hardly promoted fidelity.

At the moment, all Claire wanted was to take a relaxing bath and put the day behind her. With any luck, she might actually be able to put both her cheating fiancé and her sexy neighbor out of her mind, so that she could concentrate on more important things, like her work.

Copies of
Castelan’s
letters had provided all the information that Claire needed to prove her initial hypothesis – that the building in Tribeca had indeed been designed by the elusive Gaudi’s student, of
whom
little had been said in the history of architecture until now. Once the origin of the building on Leonard Street was unveiled,
Castelan’s
name would take its proper place in architectural archives.

Claire wanted to reread the letters one more time so that tomorrow she could begin drafting her report to her to boss. Some of the letters even had drawings. The proof was all
there – the inclined walls,
the
hyperboloid windows, the
par
aboloid
columns – the very elements that Gaudi was so famous for, lovingly applied by his faithful follower and student.

Claire reached for her bag to make sure that the le
tters were safe and sound. They
were
duplicates
of the originals, of course, but sh
e had neglected to make a second
set of copies, and she made a mental note to make another set of copies at work tomorrow.

When she looked inside her bag, Claire was startled to see that the folder with the letters was not there. She distinctly remembered putting the letters into her bag when she left from work. How could they be missing now? She focused on retracing her steps after she left work. She had stayed in the office late and took the longer walk home. After that, she went to check the mail, which was where she ran into Alec… Claire frowned. Something was missing… There, she had placed the folder with the letters on the shelf by the mailboxes in order to find her keys, which were all the way at the bottom of her bag. Then Alec appeared out of the blue, making her lose her head, as usual. Irritated, Claire bit her lip. It seemed that her every encounter with her seemingly amicable neighbor brought her nothing but headache.

She grabbed her keys and was about to head downstairs, hoping that the folder with the letters would still be where she had left it. Otherwise, she would have to call Professor
Barnardo
and ask him to resend the letters, which, of course, could be done, but would be embarrassing. The last thing Claire wanted was to give an impression of being a careless person. The letters meant the world to her; it was just that as of late, her world had been turned upside down.

As Claire was about to head out the door, the doorbell rang.

“Who is it?” Claire hoped that it would not be David. She could not face him now.

“Claire, it’s Alec, your neighbor.”

Well, think of the devil…
Claire flung open the door.

“I’m sorry to barge in unannounced, but I have something of yours…” Alec held up the folder with
Castelan’s
letters.

“Oh, thank God you found it!” Claire grabbed the folder out of Alec’s hands. “But how did you know it was mine?”

“I saw you leave the folder behind in the mailroom. I rushed after you, but you had already gone up in the elevator.”

“Thanks so much. I was going crazy thinking I’d lost them. These letters are very important for my work. I am doing some research on architecture… Speaking of which, I have a lot of catching up to do, so good night....” Claire moved to close the door.

“One moment, Claire.” Alec’s face reddened. “I have a confession to make. I didn’t bring the folder up to you right away because I read its contents. As I was running after you, I slipped and the letters spilled on the floor…” Alec halted.

Claire shrugged. Sure, Alec’s delay had caused her a few extra minutes of worry, but other than that, no harm was done.

“I didn’t know you were interested in architecture.”

“I’m not. That is, I love beautiful buildings, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“The letters are incredible, aren’t they? To think that a man could wait to marry a woman for three years, being so far away from her…”

“Yes, it is incredible.” Alec caught Claire’s gaze, and she had no choice but to look away. “It is incredible because my great uncle wrote to his bride for three years when he went to work in New York in 1918 to earn money to marry her.”

“It sounds like a wonderful story.” Claire smiled. “Did they get married?”

Alec shook his head. “No, he died during his return voyage
. H
is fiancée never married.”

“
What a sad story. I’m so sorry
.”

“Perhaps I’m not making myself clear. Claire, my great uncle’s name was Ernesto
Castelan
.”

Claire was too dumbfounded to speak. It simply seemed too impossible to be true.

“I believe that these letters were written by my great uncle. I have some family photographs upstairs that I think would be interesting for you to see…”

Claire stared blankly at Alec. If this was his way of trying to lure her into his place, he would have to come up with less transparent tactics.

“Of course, I could bring down the photos. It’s an old family album.”

Putting herself in Alec’s shoes, Claire blushed. Perhaps she was being overly suspicious. She would not want to give her family relics to an unknown stranger either. And if indeed Alec’s photos proved to be connected to
Castelan
….

“Sure, sounds great. I’d love to take a look.” Claire nodded.

“Great, it’s just upstairs…” Alec grinned. “But then you already know that.”

Claire grabbed her keys and stole a quick glance in the mirror. At least she still had her make-up on from the office, although, she could certainly use a refresher… She pushed the thought away. Her visit to Alec’s apartment was purely business-related.

“Please, come inside.” Alec opened the door.

Claire stood in the middle of the giant room, staring at the red wall with a poster of a tango couple on it. The man was leaning over the woman, and the woman had her leg on the man’s waist. The intense stance was both enthralling and intimidating.

“Please, have a seat.” Alec motioned to the couch against the wall.

Claire did as she was told, glad to be out of the tangoing couple’s sight.

Next to the couch stood a slim bookcase, and from it Alec removed a leather-bound book. The leather was worn, and the binding was cracked in some places.

Alec took a seat next to Claire, and she had to make a conscious effort to keep her breath even. She could smell Alec’s cologne and hear the sound of his breathing and, it even seemed to her, she could sense the heat of his body.

“My grandmother left me this album,” Alec began, opening the first page to a photograph of two children. “This is her and her brother, my great uncle.” More pictures followed, pictures of family and friends: bewhiskered gentlemen with stern expressions on their faces and corseted ladies looking down demurely. Alec turned to the page that had a photograph of a young man dressed in a strict three-piece suit. The man’s face was strikingly handsome: perfectly straight nose, sensual, curving lips, and a magnetic, piercing gaze.
Alec’s gaze
, Claire thought, as she looked at the photograph.

“This is my great uncle,” Alec explained. “And this is the building that he designed when he worked in New York. From what my grandmother told me, the picture was taken upon the building’s completion.”

Despite the passage of time, the resemblance was apparent. The interweaving, organic shapes of the structure’s design were identical to the building on Leonard Street.

“It’s a beautiful building,” Claire whispered.

“Yes.” Alec nodded. “It’s too bad it was demolished. The original owner intended it to be a library and a recreational center for his factory workers, but he passed away shortly after the building was completed. When his son took over, he told my great uncle to change the design. Apparently, the old owner had neglected to file for a building permit, and the building’s design was too revolutionary to receive approval. Outraged by the turn of events, my great uncle resigned, and the building was demolished.”

“How do you know that?”

Alec blinked. “Well, from the simple fact that this building is nowhere to be found. I’ve searched New York up and down, and I have never found it. And the fact that my great uncle wrote a letter to my grandmother about it before he left back for Catalonia – it was the last communication she ever received from him – he died from influenza during the trip back. As a boy, I would listen to my grandmother telling me the story, and I used to dream of finding my great uncle’s building someday. But, eventually, we all have to say goodbye to our childhood dreams.”

“But Alec, the building exists. I found it,” Claire burst out

Now it was Alec’s turn to be stunned.

“Let me tell you all about it.”

“Can this really be true?” Alec looked at Claire after she had finished her story. “I can’t believe you found my great uncle’s building… There were times when I thought that the whole story was nothing but a pretty tale, but now, to know that it’s real… I can’t wait to see it.”

“The grounds are closed to the general public, but I can arrange for a pass for you.”

“You could? That’d be great.”