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“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m Vi. Remember?”
“I don’t know a Vi,” she stated. Turning to Ian, her voice shaky, she asked, “Do I?”
He stepped over to his mother’s side. “This is Vi, Mom. She’s our guest for dinner.”
A radiant smile broke over the woman’s face. She must have been quite beautiful at one time. “Of course, dear. Our guest.”
“I WON’T STAY,” Vi hissed. “I’m not qualified for this.”
“Sure you’re qualified. You think on your feet. And you know a mean half nelson.” Ian gave her a lopsided grin.
His poor attempt to distract her with humor almost worked. The fact that he had a sense of humor came as a complete surprise to Vi.
“That woman is a danger. To herself. To me. She needs professional help. Wh-what would have happened if she’d thrown herself through that window?”
His grin faded.
“She didn’t. And you were there. You handled it. Once you understand her a little better, you’ll do great.”
“Look, I can’t take care of a houseplant. Or pets. You’ve obviously overestimated my capabilities.”
Ian scratched his head. “It’s usually not this intense. It’ll take a little time for Daisy to adjust to having you around,” he said. “I’m sure you can handle it, or I wouldn’t ask.”
“There’s got to be somebody else. How about a private nurse? Someone who specializes in this kind of thing. I’ll help pay.”
He brushed his hand over his face. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Nurses don’t come cheap.” Then he named an astronomical figure. “I can’t risk using up Daisy’s nest egg. She might need it…later. And I doubt you’re willing to foot the bill.”
Vi’s heart sank as she mentally inspected her savings account. There was no way she could swing it—not if she wanted to send money to L.A. every month. And there was no question about that. It kept her conscience clean.
“I’ll stay a week. That ought to be long enough for the dog to get back up to par….” It was a stab in the dark, but she had to try.
“The vet said a month at the minimum. I’m not risking permanent damage to Annabelle, just to make life easier for you. You don’t have a choice. No Daisy, no driver’s license. No driver’s license, no job.”
There was a hard edge to his voice as he scraped mangled Tater Tots and smeared ketchup into the garbage. The remnants of microwaved hot dogs, stale buns and carrot sticks soon followed. The meal made campus food look gourmet.
“Look, I’ll buy you another dog. AKC, pick of the litter, whatever it takes.”
“Annabelle cost over fifteen thousand dollars. Even if you could cough up that kind of money, a dog like her takes a year and half to train.”
“Fifteen thousand dollars?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dog basket in the corner of the kitchen, where the subject of their discussion lay, head on paws, big brown eyes following every movement, every nuance. “That cost fifteen thousand dollars? Boy, did you get screwed.”
“That happens to be a member of our family. She’s worth every penny and then some. Believe me, by the time your four weeks are up, you’ll agree.”
“You never told me why this dog is so important. I can see your mother needs help, but, well, wouldn’t she be more comfortable in an institution? Where there are people trained to handle her problems?”
He crossed his arms. “Home is the best place for her. Annabelle has been trained to help keep her here. Wandering is a big problem.”
“That’s what I’ve read.” Vi mulled over her options.
“I can do two weeks. That’ll use up all my personal and sick time, but I think I can make it work. After that you’re on your own.”
“No deal. This mess is your fault. You’re here till Annabelle’s well enough to work. You leave and I’ll have the judge issue an arrest warrant so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
No counteroffer. That wasn’t good. This was his turf and his rules. It went against everything in her being to do it, but she had no choice but to bid against herself.
“Three weeks.”
He folded his arms over his chest, his mouth set in a thin line. “Uh-uh. Four weeks. And that’s only if Annabelle heals without complications. It could be six.”
Vi pictured her future sliding down the drain in six weeks. Jerry Jones could be well on his way to stealing her promotion.
But knowing when to concede was one of her better survival skills—she’d learned that at home a long time ago. She’d let Ian think he’d won, this time. “It seems I don’t have a choice.”
The man nodded, accepting her apparent defeat. A crooked grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. He had dimples. What a waste.
“It’ll be interesting to see who wins. You or Daisy.”
“I don’t lose. Ever.”
“Uh-huh,” he grunted, an eyebrow raised in speculation. “I’ll take the shift tonight. Tomorrow while Daisy’s at the center, we’ll discuss her care. You better get some sleep, you’ll need it.
VI FLINCHED. Her heart pounded. Some sort of noise?
She struggled to focus. It was dark, only vague shadows of heavy furniture against pearly white walls.
Where the heck was she?
A strange bed, high off the ground, a footboard with swirls of black against misty gray. Intricate, hand-worked wrought iron.
The noise. There it was again. Pounding, yelling, more pounding.
Daisy. The old lady. What was going on?
Vi burrowed farther under the covers, muffling a curse. With the bedspread over her head, she could barely hear it. Ian had promised to take this shift.
Sure enough, a muffled, “I’m coming, Mom.”
Something heavy thudded against the wall, then footsteps dragged outside her door. It was like something out of the Simpson trial. Had Kato been this scared?
She clenched a corner of the crisp muslin sheet.
More hollering. A doorknob rattled. The pounding resumed.
Vi couldn’t take it anymore.
Fresh air hit her in a cool wave as she pawed her way out of her cocoon. Throwing on her robe, she slid her feet into her slippers.
The door latch was cool beneath her hand, the door opened easily, silently. She sucked in a breath, rattled by what she saw—Ian, a pair of Arizona State University maroon-and-gold sweatpants slung low on his hips and nothing else. Shirtless, he was more Greek god than hulking monster.
Ian fumbled in his pocket and took out a key. He barely got it clear of the lock when a figure came through the doorway and bounced off his chest.
He didn’t grab the figure. Instead, he stood there, arms hanging at his side, talking. Just talking.
Daisy jabbered in rapid-fire succession. Not a word made sense.
Ian inclined his head as he spoke to Daisy, his voice low, reassuring. “It’s okay, Mom, I’m here. It’s me. Ian. Everything’s okay.”
The jabbering slowed to English. “I was trapped. Somebody kidnapped me and locked me in there to die.”
“No, Mom. I locked the door so you wouldn’t get lost.”
“I don’t get lost.” Daisy straightened, the top of her head barely reaching Ian’s chest.
“Sometimes you don’t remember so good.”
“I remember perfectly.” She smoothed her wild hair. Stabbing a finger in Vi’s direction, she shrieked, “She did it. She broke into our house and locked me in my room. She stole my paintings!”
“Shhh. You remember Vi, our guest.” He laid a hand on his mother’s withered arm. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the bathroom.”
“Yes, of course,” she murmured.
The two walked down the hall, hand in hand, one robust, the other tiny and confused.
Vi shook her head and shuffled back to bed, where she flip-flopped for more than an hour. What about this Alzheimer’s stuff? What was it she had read? Progressive, no cure. Eventually fatal. Not a pretty picture. The old lady would die. But what happened in the meantime?
Sighing, Vi contemplated the mess she’d made. Her futile attempt to outrun the past had sent ripples through three lives, four if she counted the dog. The thought of Annabelle with her bandaged hind leg and Daisy with her irrational tantrums made Vi want to crawl under the covers and hide. She’d messed up big time and turned life upside down for everyone involved.
Was she any better than her dad? Letting her emotions get the upper hand until she lost control and did something stupid? Something that hurt another living being?
Vi shook her head. She wouldn’t accept that. There was a world of difference between her and her dad. She intended to make things right for Daisy and Ian. But she wasn’t a trained nurse, or even a social worker. What if she screwed up? The woman could have gone through that glass panel today. If the fall hadn’t gotten her, the glass would have sliced her to shreds. This was too much for them to expect of her.
The decision wasn’t easy, but it was best for everyone involved. She would leave in the morning. Call her attorney. Have him explain everything to the judge. Sell her car, if necessary, to pay for a qualified nurse….
IAN POURED HIMSELF another cup of coffee. Thank God for the senior center. Tuesdays and Thursdays were what kept him going. The first few hours were exhilarating. Freedom beckoned, with endless possibilities. What should he do first? Read? Jog? Work at the computer? Sleep maybe? At nine in the morning, the world looked rosy.
But the crash always came. Along about noon, he’d come down off his high. The responsibility would drop on his shoulders like a rack of free-weights. By two o’clock his gut started churning, tying itself in knots. Fear? Disappointment? Dread for sure. Maybe even a little guilt. He could do better. Be more patient.
Vi staggered around the corner, interrupting his thoughts. Her pink terry cloth robe was belted haphazardly, her black hair wild. She scratched her head, leaving a big cow lick behind.
He shook his head. This couldn’t possibly be the same woman. He let his gaze rove from her face, down her neck, to where the nubbly fabric dipped between her breasts. The ratty old robe was an improvement over the power suits and country club casual stuff. Breasts?
Ian shoved his mind into reverse.
Breasts. The boardroom barracuda had breasts. Imagine that.
He shook his head, bemused.
“Morning, Vi,” he drawled, his gaze seeking out more visual clues, from her shaggy pink slippers upward. Breasts meant hips and a waist. But the bulk of her robe kept everything else hidden.
He stifled a sigh of disappointment. The deprivation was getting to him. Abstinence had never been one of his strong points.
“Morning,” she mumbled, shuffling past.
He winced as she slammed a cupboard door. So did she.
“Where the hell do you keep the coffee cups?”
“My, aren’t we cheery this morning. Upper left.”
She turned, briefly, to fix him with a bloodshot glare.
“Too much partying last night?” He hid a smile in his coffee cup. That’d get a reaction.
Vi grunted, noncommital.
Was she even conscious?
She poured herself a hefty cup of coffee and gulped down a good third of it. The woman might have nerves of steel, but her esophagus had to be cast iron. She closed her eyes and sighed with bliss.
“Cream, sugar?”
“Uh-uh.”
He raised an eyebrow. Impressive.
“Sorry about all the noise last night.”
She waved a hand and grunted as she shuffled past him, back the way she had come.
It was at least half an hour before she returned for her second cup. This time there was a little life in her step. And the light of battle in her eyes.
She poured another healthy cup and slurped away.
He waited. He was good at that. A fight was coming, he was sure of it. Couldn’t really blame her—who would voluntarily stay here? It was different for him. This was his promise to keep, not hers.
He’d hoped things would be different. Hoped her arrival would come on a good day. When she’d fall under Daisy’s charm before she realized what she was getting into. And maybe, just maybe, she’d stick with them until Annabelle could get around under her own steam.
Ian shook his head, amazed at his own gullibility. He could dream, couldn’t he?
At best, she’d last a couple weeks. He needed to make sure they got at least that. But how? He couldn’t hold her by force. Maybe appeal to her humanity?
One look at her straight spine and hard gaze and he gave up on empathy. The woman didn’t have much. Nope, he’d have to appeal to her sense of self-preservation.
“Where’s the dog?” a gravelly voice asked. He did a double take and, sure enough, the words seemed to have come from her. Maybe her esophagus wasn’t indestructible after all.
“I carried her out back. There’s a fenced yard, lots of shade. It’s the place where she knows she’s off duty. Fresh air and sunshine’ll do her good.”
