Note: This story is the sequel to a previous story I wrote, entitled Alexandre 3 that you'll find on this site as well. It also happens to be a prequel - very fashionable these days, I'm told - to another story I wrote and entitled Angel Can't Fly. It would be better to read these stories before you start this one.

Warning: This story is a work in progress - I will try and post updates as often as possible, but it is not completed at this time and I don't really know how long it's going to be yet. It also means you will see little working notes here and there in the text - try not to pay too much attention to them. Thank you.

Maybe you don’t like your job
Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep
Nobody likes their job
Nobody got enough sleep
Maybe you just had the worst day of your life
But there’s no excuse,
And there’s no escape,
So just suck up… suck up and be nice

- Ani DiFranco

Emma flew back to New York on the last day of January. It was raining in Paris when she took off and it was raining in New York when she landed. She got the feeling that the rain would never stop. Maybe it was because of all the tears she had shed that night in Paris, the night she met Benjamin on that bridge. Maybe it was because her spirits hadn’t been really up since that time. Maybe it was because the damned weather was so damned awful that year.

So Emma came back to New York and to her nice apartment on the 6th avenue that she had left only days before to pay her fiancé a visit. A few days, she mused, as she pulled her suitcase out of the elevator and rummaged in her leather backpack to find her keys. She opened the door and stepped in the quiet place. Outside, she could hear the traffic in the street, the honks, the city. It was early afternoon, but her body was still on Paris time and she was exhausted. She dropped the suitcase in the lounge and collapsed onto the couch, passing her hand into her long red locks. Still wearing her coat, she wrapped her arms around herself and stared into the void.

A few days… How can everything go so wrong in just a few days? She shivered. Then she thought about it all. Well, not everything. She was glad she met Benjamin, glad she could help him… but had she, really? Was he really gonna jump off that bridge?

She shivered again and suddenly remembered she had turned down the radiators before she left. It was pretty chilly in there. She did not remove her coat and finally got up. She dragged her suitcase with her in the bedroom and turn up the heating before doing the same in the other rooms.

Back in the lounge, she knelt down next to the main radiator, turned the knob and, as she got up, she caught the unconscious twitching of her left-hand fingers. She looked down onto her naked hand, where she had got used to wearing her engagement ring, and ached as she remembered she had got used to playing with it with her thumb. There was nothing to play with anymore.

She let her hand drop and sighed, her mind mostly empty. She glanced on her right and saw the blinking red light of the answering machine sitting on her desk, near her PC. She walked there and looked down at the machine. Nine messages, it said. She knew that at least three of them were from her friend Toby who no doubt had forgotten she was out of town for a week. As for the others… work maybe, her mother with her endless questions about the wedding… Emma took a deep breath. She didn’t want to think about that yet. And probably Gabriel. She let out a wry chuckle and shook her head. The damn angel had a way of always knowing… damn it, he even seemed to know before she did when she was going to have an upset stomach after too much spicy food, for crying out loud. This was just too big to miss for him.

She looked at it for a few heartbeats, then lifted her hand, and pressed the delete button. She walked back to her bedroom, taking off her coat that she dropped onto the bed. She needed a shower. She started to undress and raised her eyes towards the window. The icy rain had turned to snow. She stepped out of her jeans and went to the bathroom, getting a large clean towel from the closet in the hallway. She turned on the shower and waiting a few instants for the water to be hot.

A shower, then some rest. She had to work in the morning.

"Watch what you’re doing, for crying out loud!" Gabriel yelled after he had just ducked and avoided frontal collision with the big branch. He looked down and saw the branch fall on the frozen ground ten feet under him with a stump noise. Then he raised his head again. "Dan! You hear me?"

"I’m sorry!" Dan cried, looking down toward his boss. He was a few branches up in the tree and had been busy trimming the top of the oak. He had finished cutting the branch without warning Gabriel who barely had escaped disaster by pure luck. "Sorry, boss." He said again, taking off his construction hat to wipe his brow with the back of his gloved hand. He didn’t seem overly concerned. It was not the first time he had almost decapitated his employer and friend, and he had never got fired for that before. He did not see why it should change now.

Gabriel shook his head. "Jesus," he sighed, instinctively reaching for his helmet as a strong gust of wind and snow made the tree shake.

They had been busy on Mrs. Stewart’s property for the past few hours and the weather was getting colder by the minute. Snowflakes were getting bigger too, although they had been too busy to pay much attention to them so far. The wind had picked up and it was now too dangerous to work in the large tree. Gabriel heard his name called and looked down toward the garden. A petite figure was standing on the path, wrapped in a big purple winter coat that enveloped both body and head. Both booted feet firmly rooted to the ground, Mrs. Stewart was looking up toward them, holding an umbrella against the rapidly increasing snowflakes. They could hardly see her face from up there. "Time for a cup of tea, love!" she shouted in her piping voice.

Dan turned and looked down as well, letting a low growl escape his lips. He was not a big fan of Mrs. Stewart’s cups of tea. After working hours in that goddamned tree, he would rather have a nice cold beer. Or even a mug of good java. But all Mrs. Stewart ever offered was cups of tea, with too much milk and so much sugar you could make a spoon stand in it. Even in the middle of the summer. Gabriel did not like them more than Dan did, but he had developed a taste for the weird looking cakes that would usually accompany the sugary beverage.

Gabriel had heard Dan’s reaction, but nevertheless gave Mrs. Stewart the thumb up. "We’ll be right down!" he said. Then he looked up again and called: "We’re gonna call it a day, Danny! Get your ass down here!"

So they climbed down the oak, like two giant pandas in their big winter coats and landed unceremoniously on the frozen ground where the snow was starting to pile up. Mrs. Stewart nodded and padded up to the house as the two men stored their equipment away in the red truck. On the side, the name ‘Paradise’ was painted in white. And a phone number. Everyone in town knew what Gabriel’s job was and his father’s before him; but to the untrained eyes, it was a rather strange sight. To think that heaven was only a phone call away left more than one visitor puzzled – or envious of the small quiet town. As for Gabriel, he thought it was simple and straight to the point. The way he liked things. Not his fault his parents had decided to give the name of an archangel to a boy whose last name was Paradise… it made the whole matter so… holy sometimes.

They followed Mrs. Stewart fresh footsteps in the snowy path to the house and got in. Without consulting each other, they slipped out of their coats and hung it in the hallway, before removing their wet boots and stepping into the large kitchen in their socks. Mrs. Stewart was already in, and was finishing pouring the hot tea in flowery cups she put on the table in front of them.

Margaret Stewart had been living in this beautiful large house for the past 50 years, since she first moved from England to marry her foreign exchange university sweetheart and soon to be very successful lawyer Edward K. Stewart III. Her maiden name was Bennett and she used to have a thick Yorkshire accent she gradually lost in the course of her life in Massachusetts. Now she spoke with a mix of her native accent and definite Boston area’s intonation that Gabriel found endearing – never mind pretty weird.

The two men sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh and were presented with almost instantaneous cups of tea. "I made you some bread and butter pudding," Mrs. Stewart said as Gabriel poured three spoonful of sugar in his cup.

Dan looked up when hearing of the treat. "Sure sounds great," he said, rubbing his hands together. Dan was ready to stand a few cups of milky tea for a couple of generous servings of Mrs. Stewart’s bread pudding.

"We’re done with the oak," Gabriel said, sipping his tea. "There's no much more we can do right now, so we'll have to wait for the storm to pass to take care of the back garden."

Mrs. Stewart sat down at the table next to him, placing a large portion of bread and butter pudding in front of him – Dan always got his first. She shook her white head. "It can wait, duck," she said as Gabriel grinned his thanks. "That tree was my main concern... I didn't want that nasty old branch to fall on someone's head. The rest can wait."

"Good thing too," Dan said, his mouth full. "I was freezin' my butt up there." And he dug again in his pudding. Gabriel glared at him; he wished Dan knew when to shut his mouth sometimes. He knew that working in a snowstorm was not ideal and he could not blame his staff for resenting it, but he found unacceptable to mention that in front of the client. Some of his father's lessons must have forced their way into his mind, after all. Though I used to hate getting on top of those trees to give Dad a hand, Gabriel mused, choosing not to push the matter further.

Mrs. Stewart soon switched to her Small Talk mode and they chatted pleasantly for a few minutes, Dan mostly eating cake, until they heard a powerful horn outside. Gabriel recognized the touch and just smiled, but said nothing. Dan moved his heavy frame up and peeked outside through the kitchen window.

"It’s Shannon," he said, wiping his mouth with the provided paper napkin. Then he turned to Gabriel, an unspoken plea in his eyes.

His boss sighed loudly without even looking at him. "All right, then. You go…"

"Great, thanks boss! We were finished anyway, right?" Dan said cheerfully, already on his way out. He turned back to their hostess on the kitchen entrance. "Thanks, Mrs. S.", he said with a big smile. "The pudding was awesome, as always." No mention of the tea, as expected.

"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Gabriel, lifting his cup of tea. "She didn’t make it for you, you know!" he shouted, as Dan was disappearing into the hallway. Then he glanced at Mrs. Stewart and winked at her. She chuckled but did not say a word.

In the hallway, they could hear Dan put hurriedly his boots back on. Gabriel leaned back on his chair and turned towards the noise. "Hey, Danny Boy. No need to come over tomorrow. Looks like we’re gonna be pretty snowed in. I’ll check what the situation is and I’ll give you a call, how’s that?"

"Fine by me," Dan said, poking his head back in, a little out of breath. "Now I gotta run before Shannon decides I’m not here and leaves or snaps and try to drive into your truck!"

"Yeah, let her try," Gabriel groaned, his nose in his cup. Mrs. Stewart glanced at him and frowned disapprovingly. Gabriel chose to ignore it.

Soon, Dan was gone and the young man and the old lady went back to non-committal conversation – or at least Gabriel hoped so. He knew each and every one of his customers too well to think that Mrs. Stewart will not try to snoop around in his personal life. He did not mind that much, really. It’s not like I have anything to hide, he thought, as the old woman was pouring him a second cup of tea. Then he thought about that. Not that I have anything to talk about, he corrected mentally and a touch bitterly.

"They’re coming next week," was saying his hostess about her soon to visit family. "I hope they will be able to fly. Last time they came over at this time of year, they got stuck in Gatwick airport for ten hours because of the snowstorm over here."

Gabriel knew where the conversation was going. He smiled gently. No doubt Mrs. Stewart will soon mention her 28-year-old single grand niece Helen, who happened to be a very lovely and very intelligent young woman working in international marketing for a food company in London. And he was right.

"Helen is coming over too. She’s such a lovely young woman", was saying Mrs. Stewart as Gabriel was coming out of his musings. He could not help a laugh. She stared at him, puzzled. Which made him laugh harder. "I’m sorry, Mrs. Stewart," he said, laughing, shaking his head. "But you’re so transparent sometimes, you’re worse than my mother!"

The old lady mumbled something before sipping on her tea, under the young’s man amused eyes. "How is your mother, anyway?" she asks after a while, admitting defeat.

Gabriel shrugged. "Fine. Florida’s climate is doing her a lot of good."

Mrs. Stewart nodded. "You should go and visit her sometime… this weather is not good for you. And you can’t work much because of the snow. The Keys would be much nicer…"

Gabriel smiled. "I might just do that," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I’ll make sure I tell her in advance though. I think she has a boyfriend down there and I don’t want to embarrass her."

"Really?" wondered Mrs. Stewart, in an almost convincing tone. She had been Gabriel’s mother close friend for many years and, even if they did not see each other very often since she had moved to Florida, Gabriel was damned sure she knew about her secret boyfriend down in the Keys’ sunshine and clear waters. He could not bring himself to call him ‘lover’ just yet.

He chuckled. "Oh, come on!" he said, lifting his free hand. "Give me some credit here! I’m not an idiot!… I know she met someone…" He shrugged. "… and that’s great…I just wish…" He stopped and looked down, finding his mug suddenly incredibly interesting. "I just wish she told me herself, that’s all", he said in a quiet voice. Then he looked up to meet the old woman’s gentle blue eyes. "She thinks I’ll disapprove," he said, then shrugged. "It’s none of my business, anyway… but I don’t mind really." And as he said it, he realized it was actually true.

Mrs. Stewart shook her head slowly. "You can’t blame her for being a little scared and a little ashamed too. She loved your dad so much… you don’t forget thirty-five years of marriage that easily."

Gabriel nodded. "I know," he said simply, thinking he should definitely pay her mother a visit before the summer. Then he drained his cup and put it down on the table. "Well," he said a little more cheerfully, slapping both his thighs with the palm of his hands. "I’ve got to go. Lucy is making a cheese soufflé for dinner and she’ll have my head if I’m late."

He unfolded his tall frame and got up, as Mrs. Stewart looked at him thoughtfully. "Funny," she said quietly as Gabriel was moving to the kitchen door. "I thought your Mum would offer her to come with her to Florida," she said almost off-handedly.

Gabriel nodded. "She did." He shrugged as Mrs. Stewart looked up towards him. "Lucy told her she’d rather stay here… so, I kept her. I thought I could always use someone to keep the house running."

"Mmm." Mrs. Stewart got up as well and followed Gabriel in the hallway where he sat down again on a chair to put his boots back on. "Strange, this girl, you know," she said, looking down at him.

"Why’s that? She’s the best cook ever."

"That she would have no other ambition in life than to serve your every whim." A pause, during which she stared at Gabriel who had paused his lace tying. "Now, I can see how you would like that…" she added, a smile edging on her mouth.

"Lucy does what she wants," Gabriel said casually, putting his second boot on. "She likes it here. I’m not going to complain I have cheese soufflé for dinner. And she’s nice and smart. It’s nice to have someone intelligent to speak to when I go home." He finished tying up his second boot and stood up, reaching for his heavy coat that hung on the hook near the door.

Mrs. Stewart watched him quietly, then sighed a little. "Talking about strong minded…" she said, a little out of the blue, but not that much because she made Gabriel roll his eyes. "How’s your red head?"

Gabriel slipped his coat on, sighing. "Fine, I guess." He paused. "She’s just spent a few days in Paris with Mr. Right. She should be back by now… I tried to call her but she won’t answer," he said a little too quickly, revealing immediately to his hostess that he cared much more for this subject matter than he wanted to admit. He saw the look on Mrs. Stewart and knew he was busted.

"You don’t like him very much, do you?" she said gently, leaning on the kitchen doorframe.

Gabriel shrugged. "No, I don’t," he said, dropping the pretense. "I don’t think he’s right for her. He…" he cut himself, looked up at her then lifted a hand and waved it in a negative fashion. "Let’s not go there," he added, looking down again. Then he sighed. "Anyway, what can I say?"

"You could tell her what you feel, for starters," she said quietly.

He snorted. "Yeah, I’m sure that’ll work."

"Why not? Because she’ll think you’re just jealous?"

He was quiet for a second, standing before her in his heavy coat, his snow hat in his hand. Then he looked away, embarrassed. "Something like that, yeah."

She sighed and stepped towards him, patting him on the shoulder. "You take care, Angel," she said in a soft voice, using Emma’s pet name for him.

Continued in Part 2.