All colors, all sizes, some old, some new, brightly colored and often annoying to the point of offensiveness. Oh, the degree of torment I could inflict on Julia with them. “What’s so funny?” Carmichael said. “Just thinking.” He gestured to the fat chair in the corner. “You look like you feel better today?” I picked up a floppy hippo draped over one arm and sat. The legs whacked together when I shook it. “I guess I was tired yesterday.” “After painting for six hours straight, I can see why.” He steepled his fingers against his lips and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “Are you—” “Why toys?” I held up the hippo. I used it to point at the shelves and his desk. It was about as effective as a wet noodle. “I see you as more of an antique kind of guy.” “I have an impressive collection of matchbox cars going back to the fifties.
