“Well, hello, darling,” Lucille gasped as though she hadn’t seen Ivy for months. She twisted a bit on the piano bench. “And who is this?” she asked, holding out her hand toward Bentley.
I should have warned him, Ivy thought. This whole idea of surprising him was a bad one. But Bentley surprised her right back. He took Lucille’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “My name is Ben. I’m very pleased to meet you. I heard you playing Gershwin,” he said, a word Ivy had no reference for. “That was beautiful. Do you sing, too?”
Did she sing, too? Ivy rolled her eyes. Lucille wouldn’t ever leave the piano now.
With a demure dipping of her chin, Lucille admitted to having sung a few times.
“What’s your favorite?” Bentley asked.
Lucille’s hands came together under her chin. “Oh, ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’ definitely. Do you know it?”
Within seconds, somehow Bentley Hollis was sitting next to Lucille at the piano bench, hands on the keys and asking her what key she preferred to sing in. Partway through the song, Ivy dragged her eyes away from the pair of them and pulled up a chair. She knew Lucille wouldn’t stop at one.
In fact, Lucille did not stop. She kept saying titles, and Bentley kept playing them.
How was it possible that Bentley knew these songs? Not just knew them, but had them memorized? Lucille, clearly smitten, would finish a song, graciously accept Bentley’s praise, rest her hand on his arm, and ask for another. Ivy was feeling fairly smitten herself at this point.
Midway through the fourth song, a jarring electronic bell tone rang through the lobby.
“That’s lunch,” Ivy said. “Sorry to break up the concert.”
Lucille smiled at Bentley. “You’re staying for lunch, aren’t you? Care to accompany me?” She slid off the piano bench and held out her hand. All three of them pretended not to notice the effort that went into the movements.
Bentley’s eyes met Ivy’s over Lucille’s head. The question written clearly on his face was, “Do you mind?” He was handling this better than Ivy could ever have imagined. He was a natural.
Ivy nodded. “Good thing you’ve got two arms,” she said, slipping her hand around Bentley’s free elbow. When he tugged her hand in tight, she felt a shiver go all the way up her arm.
Lucille kept up an unending stream of chatter as they walked to the dining room, which was a glorified cafeteria, but the residents didn’t have to stand at the sneeze guard to get their meals. A couple of young girls made their way around the room, checking for food restrictions and delivering plates.
Ivy settled Lucille into a chair and Lucille immediately got out a deck of playing cards. “Hearts?” she asked Bentley, a twinkle in her eye that might have actually been a wink. “Ivy’s Grammy and I used to play hearts every day while we waited for lunch. Melody. She was my best friend.” Lucille patted Ivy’s shoulder. “She’s the one who brought Ivy and me together, and I thank her for it every day.”
Ivy felt her throat constrict a bit at the mention of her Grammy. It was good to hear Lucille so eager to share her love and her stories.
When Bentley told Lucille he’d love to play, she dealt out a hand and Ivy lost spectacularly. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the crease in Bentley’s cheek when he smiled at her. It was only a few minutes of waiting, but Lucille took full advantage. She began an interrogation so unsubtle that there was no space for embarrassment.
Lucille chattered at Bentley. She told him tiny pieces of stories guaranteed to make him ask curious questions, which she chose to answer with vague references and promised to tell him more later. She was reeling him right in.
Bentley was in a perfect position to fall in love with Lucille just like Ivy had—just like everyone did. But Lucille wasn’t the only one who could be subtle. Bentley answered all her questions about his family, his schooling, and his current prospects without saying anything to suggest that he was a Hollis, and without revealing anything Ivy didn’t already know. She wished he wasn’t quite so good at that, because Lucille could ask him things Ivy wouldn’t dare. He wasn’t being evasive, merely humble. It didn’t matter, though, because he was charming the socks right off Lucille. They seemed to both be having a good time, and Ivy felt herself relaxing. Even though Ivy knew that if they were playing Hearts for money, she’d be broke.
Monday was chicken parmesan day, the surest bet in the Centennial Glen dining room. When the dining-staff girl stopped at their table, she asked if everyone would be eating. Ivy said yes, and the girl came right back with three plates and a paper receipt, which Ivy pocketed. There were a few other tables that had obvious non-residents at them, and Ivy explained that to Bentley.
“We can come and have lunch with our friends any day.”
Lucille interrupted, leaning over to touch Bentley’s arm. “You could come every day, if you wanted. I’d save a seat for you.”
Ivy laughed. “But,” she carried on as if Lucille’s harmless flirting had been unheard, “Monday has the best food. So, every Monday that I’m not working, I come and eat with Lucille.”
Lucille reached over and put her hand on Ivy’s arm. “We have a longstanding tradition,” she said, not mentioning Grammy this time. Ivy knew they were both thinking of her.
When Lucille picked up her knife and fork, she added, “But the tradition can’t stand much longer.” Ivy watched her brow furrow, creating an impressive set of forehead wrinkles.
Bentley must have seen it, too. “Why not much longer?” he asked, spearing a canned green bean.
“Some rich young business tycoon needs to become richer.” Lucille took a bite of chicken, chewed slowly, and swallowed, knowing perfectly well that her audience was hooked. “The property has been sold, and within a couple of months, we all need to find new homes.”
Ivy picked up her plastic water cup and tipped it toward Lucille, who clinked hers against it. “Here’s to Titus Cameron and his excellent business sense,” Ivy said. “May he sleep well at night,” she added.
“Cheers,” Lucille said, tilting her glass to Bentley’s. He hesitated, then picked up his drink and touched it to Lucille’s.
Bentley made a weird face that he tried to hide, like he had a sudden stab of pain. Ivy guessed that he was uncomfortable knowing about other rich people behaving badly. It probably reflected on the whole group of them.
She kept her eye on him for a few seconds, waiting to see the discomfort go away.
It didn’t.
Lucille kept talking between bites. “Not that this is a palace,” she acknowledged. “I wouldn’t mind finding something cleaner, or brighter, or with an ocean view,” she said, winking. Not much of an ocean view to be found in Phoenix. “But,” she continued, “you get used to a place. It starts feeling like home after a couple decades.” She looked from Ivy to Bentley. “You’re going to have to take my word for it.”
Lucille launched into a story about someplace she’d lived when she’d been young and fabulous, and Ivy watched her with a smile. It was fun to entertain without having to do anything but show up; Lucille was enough entertainment for anyone. Bentley didn’t say anything much more at lunch, but with Lucille holding forth, nobody else needed to.
When Ivy noticed him checking his watch for the fourth time, she pushed her chair back from the table. “Lucille, thank you for having us join you for lunch today. I have an appointment, so we’d better head out.”
The appointment was a lie. She could simply tell that Bentley was uncomfortable. He hadn’t said a single word in more than half an hour. He still looked sick. He hadn’t been rude, and he’d nodded and smiled at Lucille’s stories, but he’d been quieter than Ivy had ever seen him. Sometimes places like this had that effect on people. It made them conscious of their mortality or something. Time to get him back out in the fresh air.
“Can we walk you back to your room?” she asked.
Lucille agreed. She put herself between Ivy and Bentley this time, but they made eye contac
t over her head. He gave Ivy a smile that both reassured her that he was okay and sent a shiver across her shoulders.
As Lucille reached her door, she said, “Well, Ben. It has been a real pleasure.” Even though Ivy had heard Bentley introduce himself that way, it seemed strange for Lucille to call him that. “Next time you come, make sure there’s time to stay a while. We can talk some more and play some more cards.” Ivy knew that although they’d spent more than two hours in the Glen, it must always feel a little lonely to someone like Lucille when people left.
“Thank you,” Bentley said. “I’d love to come see you again.”
“If you bring a chaperone,” Lucille said, pointing to Ivy, “I’ll invite you in to my lounge.” She gestured into the small room, where a bed, a recliner, and a tiny table filled most of the space. Ivy saw him run his eyes over the room, and she wondered if he was measuring it against one of his father’s hotel spaces. It wouldn’t compare, Ivy imagined, although she’d never stayed in a Hollis hotel. Way outside her budget.
Lucille leaned her cheek up for a kiss from Ivy, and then did the same to Bentley. If he was shocked by her forwardness, he didn’t show it.
“Bye, Lucille. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, sweetie. Ben, you come back any time.” She let herself into her room and waved at them.
As they turned to walk back to the front door, Ivy was surprised to feel Bentley reach for her hand, his grip stiff and anxious, if a grip could be called anxious. She gave his fingers a squeeze, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. Maybe he wasn’t handling the place as well as she’d thought.
It wasn’t a romantic hand-holding. More like she was helping him. Like he’d fall over or be sick or something if she let go.
He kept her hand in clutch as they walked down the hall, past the front desk, and out the door. Ivy waved to Roxie as she left, and Roxie’s eyebrows raised in either appreciation or confusion, it was hard to tell from behind the monitor.
Once they got outside, Ivy expected him to relax.
He didn’t.
If anything, he got even stiffer as they walked to the bus stop a couple of blocks away. And his eyes darted from one building to another.
He was still squeezing her hand, and she was starting to lose feeling in her fingers.
“Did you,” she finally asked, “steal something?”
He looked at her, startled. “Do you mean, like, ever?”
She shook her head. “I meant today. Right now. Because you seem… shifty.” She mimed hunching over and looking from side to side. “I think I should get a warning if you’re planning to get apprehended by the authorities or anything.”
That did it. His neck released some of the tension, and he laughed.
“I’m certainly planning not to be apprehended by anyone in authority.”
“Huh,” she said. “I see how you did not actually answer my question.” She turned her head to look at him more straightforwardly. In a serious voice, she asked, “Is this your secret? Did your family make their fortune stealing spoons from elder-care centers?”
He shrugged as if the secret was out. “You guessed our secret. It’s all spoons, all the time.”
They went on laughing, but she noticed that he never actually told her what was bothering him. Well, that was his right. He could keep a secret if he wanted to.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bentley couldn’t keep a secret if he wanted to. As soon as he said goodbye to Ivy, he phoned his dad.
“Help,” he said. He knew he sounded desperate, but that was okay. He was desperate.
“What’s up?” Walter asked.
Bentley sighed. “I just visited Centennial Glen.”
Walter’s voice came through the phone sounding gentle and unruffled by this information. “Mmm. The care center on the renovation block?”
Bentley could feel his pulse quickening in opposition to Walter’s calm. “Dad. The people who live there. I can’t be responsible for kicking them out.”
His dad made a sound of encouragement, but he didn’t say anything.
“Tell me what to do.”
Now Walter gave a quiet laugh. “I know that’s not what you mean.”
“No, I know. But I can’t do this.”
Walter cleared his throat. “Hard choices.”
Bentley made a noise of exasperation. “You’re really not going to tell me what to do, are you?”
“I think,” his dad answered, “that you should ask Ivy what you should do.”
Bentley’s answer came quickly. “She’s too emotionally invested. And she doesn’t know anything about business.”
“You sure?”
“Dad, I know she’s charmed you. She’s charmed me, too. But this is business.”
Walter made another sound of polite agreement, but somehow it sounded as if it wasn’t agreement at all.
Bentley rubbed his hand along his jaw. “Okay. I hear you. Thanks for your help, Dad.”
As soon as he ended the call, he phoned Lex. “I can’t do this,” he said.
“Do what?” She sounded bored, but then, she usually sounded bored. It was, as she had been telling him for years, part of her “brand.”
“We have to pull out of the development deal. The new one in Phoenix proper. The flagship store.”
She blew out her breath in an almost-laugh. “Right.”
“I’m serious, Lex. It’s no good.”
“I beg your pardon, Titus, but might I remind you that it is very, very good indeed?”
He looked around, as if anyone in a passing car might have heard her call him that. “No. I mean it. I went there.”
Through the phone, it sounded like she sat up straighter. “You went to the site? And you’re saying it doesn’t look like what Gary showed us?”
It would have been so easy to say yes. But yes wasn’t true. “Not exactly. I went to the care center and it’s not okay with me to tear it down and displace all those people.”
He could practically feel the exasperated gust of air through the phone. “Bentley. Edward. Hollis. You did not. Tell me right now that you did not just go into that nursing home and announce yourself, fall in love with a bunch of old people, and ruin this deal for our company.” How could he deny it? Well, he hadn’t announced himself. And he hadn’t ruined any deals. Not yet. But he couldn’t say that. Somehow, he knew that would not cut it. Not for Lexus.
“Come on, Lex. What do you take me for? No. I went there on a date.”
She laughed. Then she said, “Wait. You are kidding, aren’t you?”
He thought about sitting with Lucille at the piano, trying not to notice Ivy watching him. She was a terrible distraction. “Not kidding. Not about any of it.”
“Back up and tell me all of it,” his sister demanded.
He did. “Ivy and I went to lunch at the care center. She works there. It’s her other job.”
Lex’s dry sarcasm slid through the connection. “What a coincidence.”
“You don’t have to like her, Lex, but you can’t convince me that she’s sabotaging us. She’s not.”
“Right. She’s an angel. In combat boots. So. You and the angel went to lunch at the crumbling home for the downtrodden elderly.”
He decided to let that slide. It wasn’t worth the argument.
“Yes, we did. And yes, I met a few people. And of course I fell in love with them. You would too.”
He heard a clicking sound through the phone, as if she were tapping her nails against a table. “Something I very much doubt.”
He breathed through his frustration. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for your best human impulses. You’d love it there. Well, you’d love the people. Okay, you’d love Lucille.”
“Getting off track,” Lex sang.
“Lexus, we can’t put these people out of their home.”
Lex cleared her throat. “Benny? Listen to me. Tell me you’re listening.”
Why did he let his younger sister boss him around l
ike this? “I’m listening.”
“Say it with me: The building is condemned.” She paused, but he was fairly sure she wasn’t going to make him say it. “We can’t stop it from coming down. But we can prevent that excellent property from housing an auto lube place and a state liquor store. We can be responsible for creating something truly wonderful for the community.”
She was using her PR voice.
It was working.
“Okay, but wait. Couldn’t we buy the block and renovate the care center?” he asked, stopping at the intersection to wait for the light to turn green.
“Sure,” she said, impatience weighing down the word. “Let’s just put up a big plastic sheet over half the building, shove all the old people into the other half, and fix it right up.”
How did she manage to take his good ideas and make them sound stupid?
“Look, Benny, you’re just feeling emotional. Step away from all of it for a minute, or a few hours anyway, and you’ll remember why this is such an amazing opportunity. And why it’s the best thing for the business.” She must have moved the phone, because he heard her earring hit the screen. “Okay. I have to get going. Don’t worry. This is the right thing to do.”
She made a kiss noise into the phone and hung up. Bentley stashed his phone in the console and shook his head. He really ought to learn to stand up to his sister. Or anyone, for that matter. Maybe he should start with someone easier than Lex: an eastern European dictator, for example.
Bentley walked down the sidewalk toward the parking garage, watching people walk into stores and businesses. On a Monday afternoon, foot traffic was moderate, but he could guess which shops were going to get which customers. It was a skill he’d always had. Even as a little boy, he could match a consumer with a product. One of his father’s favorite games was to point out a man or a woman and ask Bentley to tell him which car they’d get inside. He could do it with astounding accuracy. At least it was astounding to his father. To Bentley, it was simple. A combination of posture, clothes, accessories, and speed would give away the choice of transportation almost every time.
B is for Barista (The ABCs of Love Book 2) Page 11
