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When her face colored again, he grinned smugly. “You do blush a lot,” he teased her. Then, lest he hurt her feelings, he told her the truth. “I like it on you.”
They walked to the door side by side, saying nothing, both feeling the tension of the moment. At the door Mitch took her oval face in his hands and rubbed his thumb along her lips.
“Can we share dinner again?”
Waves of feeling swamped her, and Melanie was unable to think straight. A noncommittal answer, that was the best.
“Maybe,” she temporized, unsure of anything but her surging heartbeat. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford it if I don’t win that contest. You eat a lot.”
He grinned. “Save your allowance then, because I’m going to hold you to it,” he promised. Mitch pressed one last kiss to her mouth. Then, sighing, he dragged himself away.
“Good night,” he whispered, and pulled the door closed behind his tall figure.
“Good night,” Melanie answered to no one at all. One slim hand touched her lips in wonder.
In a trance she moved through her nightly rituals, half dazed. Mitchel Stewart didn’t seem nearly as irritating as he had two weeks ago. Nor as angry.
What Melanie recalled was the way his bad-boy looks had made her heart thump. And the black lock of hair that tumbled across his forehead. And his lazy blue eyes with their hidden flames. And the soft, caring touch of his hands.
Yawning widely, Melanie plumped her pillow and promptly fell asleep dreaming of Mitchel Stewart.
“You think this fellow is this Jean guy? The same one that Hope Langford was engaged to?” Mitch stared at his grandfather in dismay.
“Not only do I think he is the one, I’m pretty sure he plans to marry someone else. I’ve had someone looking into things for me. On the Q. T. of course.” Harry Conroy rubbed his hand wearily across his stubbled cheek. “I’m stumped, laddie. I dursn’t tell Hope about this. She’s got her heart set on a reunion, and if this guy is what he seems, that isn’t going to happen.”
“What’s his name?” Mitch asked curiously, flipping through the reports covering his grandfather’s desk. “And where’s he been for the past thirty years? Why didn’t he let her know he was alive so she could move on?”
“I don’t know, son. Those are all good questions that I’d like to ask the man myself. You don’t go abandoning a woman like Hope without a darned good reason. Leave those papers be!” Harry sounded furious, and Mitch studied him with new eyes.
“You’re pretty fond of Miss Langford, aren’t you, Gramps?” he asked quietly.
“Fond of her? I’ve spent longer than I care to think about trying to get close to the woman. But she has this barrier she always puts up. Won’t let people get too close. Leastways, not me.” He frowned.
Harry Conroy peered at his grandson. Over the years he’d gained a pretty good knowledge of human nature, and he used it to good advantage now.
“I think you’re interested in Charity’s daughter, too. Aren’t you, boy?” The faded gray eyes sparkled with hidden knowledge. “I was afraid it would never happen,” he declared happily.
“It hasn’t,” Mitch assured him quietly. “I’m not looking to get married, Gramps. You know that. Neither is she. Sure, I like Melanie. She’s sharp and witty.”
“Not too hard to look at, either,” his grandfather added.
“No, she isn’t,” Mitch agreed with a grin. “But she’s dedicated to her career as much as I am to mine.”
Harry snorted. “Hogwash,” he bellowed with disgust. “You’re still thinking about your parents, aren’t you, Mitch?” He shook his head. “Those two didn’t have a marriage, they had a battle zone. That’s not the way it’s supposed to work, boy.”
“From what I saw at Mercer, Lloyd and Jones, that’s the way it usually works,” Mitch told him soberly.
“I knew you didn’t like Chicago, Mitch, but I always thought you liked your work.”
“I hated my work there,” Mitch said hoarsely. “Bottom man on the pole wasn’t the problem. I had to take whatever they assigned, and it was always family court.” He shuddered at the memory. “I still see the looks in the kids’ eyes, Gramps. So tired. And scared.”
“Well, I’m proud of you for getting yourself out of there, son.” Harry wiped a tear away. “It’s a sad thing to see a family torn apart, that’s for sure. But it doesn’t have to happen to you. All marriages aren’t bad. Your gran and I shared some pretty happy years.” Harry stared across his desk, his eyes focused on some memory Mitch couldn’t share.
“You never knew her, Mitch, but she was the kindest, gentlest woman God ever created.”
“Sort of like Hope, you mean?” Mitch watched, stunned, as his grandfather’s head reared back and his round belly shook with laughter.
“Good heavens, no! Hope is nothing like your grandmother. If she thinks I deserve it, she can tear a strip off me. Most times, it serves me right.” He chuckled.
“Mom must have taken after your Anna, then.” When Harry frowned, Mitch rushed to make his meaning clear. “You know what Dad was like, Gramps. He never had a decent word to say to anyone, Mom included. Most of the time he was screaming vile things at her. And she took it all without telling him off. Not once as long as I hung around can I remember a time when she would retaliate.”
“No, she wouldn’t have,” Harry whispered sadly. “That was our fault. Anna and I knew your ma saw the court cases come and go, and we were afraid she would learn that retribution often paid. So we taught her that fighting back never solved anything.” He stared at the picture of the young laughing girl on his desk. “I regret that now.”
“There’s no point in regrets, Gramps.” Mitch smiled bitterly. “We can only learn from the past, and what I learned from my old man and his successors is that marriage tears people up.”
“I’m sorry ‘bout that, too, my boy,” Harry whispered as the door slammed behind his grandson. “Because I think marriage is the best darn institution God ever invented.”
He sat staring at his oak-lined office for a long moment before rousing himself to action.
“I wonder,” he murmured, shrugging into his black robes for the last session of the day. He pressed the newfangled speed dial his secretary had shown him how to use.
“Hello, Hope? I need to talk to you about something.” He waited for her response, a smile curving his lips. “I thought maybe we could go for a picnic. Haven’t had one of those in years.”
When she started to protest he cut her off.
“I’m due in court now, my dear. Let’s just plan to leave around six. I’ll pick you up. Wear pants.” Harry hung up the phone with a huge smile on his round face.
Yes, siree, this was going to be an interesting date!
“Jessica, I cannot afford to reprimand you again. This is the last time.” Melanie watched as the young woman’s face turned sullen.
“But, Melanie, Mrs. Lindstrom was—”
“I cannot condone your actions regardless of what our residents do or say.” She cut her trainee off. “Your treatment of Mrs. Lindstrom was callous and disrespectful, and we do not allow that here.” She searched Jessica’s pretty face for some sign of remorse. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I guess so.” The voice was petulant.
Melanie refused to allow herself any softening. The bullying tactics she had just witnessed were unforgivable.
“I’ll make it perfectly clear, then, so that we both understand the way things go at Sunset.” She waited until Jessica’s sullen blue gaze met hers and then she laid down the law.
“This is your last warning, Jessica. Our residents are seniors, yes, and sometimes they need help. But force will not be used on anyone unless he or she is a danger to themselves or someone else. Okay?”
“But she was pulling my hair! Don’t I have any rights?”
Melanie sighed, knowing the teenager would have to be relocated.
“Jessica, please. You were forcing her into the bath. She hates water. She’s afraid.”
“Well, how was I s’posed to know that?” The young woman had shifted from cranky to defiant, her lip curling with disgust. Suddenly, Melanie was tired of the whole thing.
“I guess you would actually have to talk to her, like a real person, and then let her talk back to find it out,” she answered acidly, unwilling to go over the same material again.
Melanie knew she was venting some of her foul mood on the trainee, but Jessica deserved it. She would have dumped on Mitchel Stewart, too, if he had been around. He had been at the bottom of a lot of her problems lately!
She waved Jessica away tiredly as she raked a hand through her disheveled curls. Her secretary walked in with a cup of coffee and a commiserating smile.
“What happened to decency and courtesy, Bridget?” She sipped a mouthful of the refreshing brew and closed her eyes. When there was no response, Melanie opened them again. The woman just kept watching her. What now? she wondered.
“I’m sorry, Mel, but Mr. Northrup is slipping away fast. Hospital phoned to say you should come over if you want to talk to him once more.”
Melanie got up immediately and moved to the door. Jonathan Northrup had been at Sunset even longer than she had. He had been her inspiration and hope for so long. It would be hard to say goodbye. The only consolation was that they both knew they’d meet again in heaven. Still, it would be tough. She straightened her backbone and strode down the hall, not really hearing Bridget’s voice as she gathered her thoughts.
“Mel, there’s some fellow from Papa John’s Peanut Butter wants to see you immediately. He’s at the front desk.”
The last few words were hollered at Melanie’s disappearing figure. She need not have bothered, Bridget thought. She knew Melanie Stewart had her priorities straight. And Jonathan Northrup was certainly more important than some silly contest!
Half an hour later, Melanie closed the big hospital door. He was gone. Serene to the end, Jonathan had given her his final bit of advice.
“You have to get out and live, my dear. Old folks are selfish and depressing sometimes, and much as we enjoy all your efforts, you have to look after yourself. One day you’ll find a man who, if you let him, can give you so much.” He had stopped for a painful, wheezing breath. “Make sure you have enough left of yourself to give back. That’s all I ask.” His frail, veined hand had clasped hers one last time.
“Enjoy your life, my dear. You’ve given me so much happiness. See you in heaven.”
“Yes, in heaven.” A tear rolled down her cheek, but Melanie dashed it away angrily. She would not cry. Jonathan wouldn’t have wanted it.
A deep voice spoke from behind her left shoulder.
“Are you all right, Melanie?”
Turning, Melanie found Mitch’s tall, elegantly dressed figure behind her. He looked very handsome in his navy blue pinstriped suit, but it was his eyes that drew her. Dark and searching, they probed deep within, sharing her sorrow.
“He was someone special, wasn’t he?” he asked softly as his arm moved across her shoulder. His hand was gently soothing on her back, and suddenly Melanie gave way.
Turning into his arms, she put her head on his shoulder and bawled like a baby.
“Oh, Mitch. He was my best friend.”
He let her cry out her loss and feelings without saying anything. And as she cried, Melanie felt the stress and sadness slowly drain away.
“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the snowy white handkerchief he pulled from his pocket to wipe her eyes. She knew she had smudged her mascara, and her eyes must look like a raccoon’s, but Mitch never said a word. Gently, he took the fabric from her and completed the cleanup himself before stuffing the square into his pocket.
Then he tipped her face to look at his.
“Have you time for a coffee?” he asked. “I need to talk to you.”
His voice was so serious that Melanie stared at him for a minute before nodding.
“I suppose I can. I’ll just tell Bridget I’ll be in the cafeteria.”
“Actually, I thought maybe we could go outside for some privacy.” He pointed to a carafe and two cups. “And she already knows.”
Shrugging, Melanie accepted his outstretched hand and walked to the patio that nestled on a tiny bit of green lawn between the hospital and the nursing home. There were lounge chairs spread around, and she sank gratefully into one in the sun. She needed the warm sunshine and light to banish her gloomy feelings.
When Mitch handed her the steaming cup, his fingers brushed hers, and Melanie felt the sparks his touch always caused in her body. She watched as his intelligent blue eyes studied her face carefully before he sank into a chair.
“Okay,” he began, dark eyes probing hers. “I know my timing stinks, but I guess the best way to tell you this is to just get it over with.”
Melanie watched his chest expand as he sucked in a lungful of air. A wave of foreboding hung over her. What now, she wondered.
He began.
“A rep from Papa John’s was in to the office to see me today.” His blue eyes bored into her. “From what I understand, they were also here to see you,” he told her sourly. “Apparently they have come to some decision regarding their grand prize.” Mitch’s face was flushed, and he fidgeted in his chair uncomfortably.
“Say it,” she ordered, gripping the armrests. When he didn’t speak, she answered for herself. “I don’t win, do I?”
“Melanie, just listen to me for—”
She ignored his pleading. All her grand ideas, all her plans. She felt her dreams dissolving around her.
“I thought it was probably too good to be true. After all, I don’t even use their product. How could I possibly endorse it?” She turned to him, eyes glittering. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Melanie, can you be quiet for once?” The usually calm, deep voice was hard and strident. “Just let me speak, would you?”
Pursing her lips, Melanie leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. Her soft curls flopped across her cheek, but she was too angry to notice.
Mitch, however, noticed. He noticed only too well.
Thoughts of their evening together flooded his mind until he could almost feel her in his arms, feel her silky hair against his cheek, taste her soft mouth.
Shaking his head sharply, Mitch ignored the heat that was building in his brain and forced himself to concentrate on getting this right. It would not be easy.
“Melanie, they have both our entries now. And the home address you put on yours seems to be my apartment. Number 108. The winner lives at number 108.” He waited for her to assimilate the information. When she said nothing, he tried again.
“I said—”
She stopped him immediately.
“I’m not a child, Mitch. I know what it means. It means I don’t win, right?”
Her reddish gold head was tilted to the sun. As he watched, a single tear trickled from the corner of her eye.
“Not exactly,” he told her.
She studied him curiously, intrigued by his mysterious manner. When he said nothing, she punched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Explain.” She gave the command with all the imperious demands of royalty. He smiled at her dictatorial tone.
“I, er, I kind of told them that we lived in the same building. That, uh, we were roommates. Well, almost.”
